connor walsh. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iustitiae) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-03-07 08:49 pm
iustitiae) wrote in undergrounds2016-03-07 08:49 pm
[open] bright as the day fresh as the moon and stale as the hay
i - @ the supermarket
at your favorite tesco (but probably in city of london or enfield), at any time during the month
[look, everyone's gotta shop for groceries. connor's lists have gotten undeniably weirder in the last few months, offering to pick up things for his witch friends ("friends" - friend, in the singular, that's soeki) while here's there. most of this stuff honestly feels like a joke (candles and sage and he's honestly wondering if they're going for eye of newt and toe of frog next), but connor's a good friend and if he's going to be at tesco anyway he can pick up stuff for his buddy.
along with, you know, the usual - good looking produce, the atlantic, condoms, new lightbulb for the broken fixture, cold cereal, pasta, eggs. if you need help reaching something on a shelf, just want random commentary on your life choices, or happen to recognize connor from somewhere (his tinder account? maybe you already know him? the possibilities are endless) this prompt is for you.]
ii - @ the courthouse
city of london, towards the end of the business day.
Shit --
[this is connor, running through a crowd like an asshole, trying not to bump into anyone (but offering "sorry!" if he does, i mean he's not devoid of manners). he's carrying a briefcase with a brief from his boss/professor in it, one that the deadline is approaching, in about thirty minutes, says a quick look at his watch. according to her it was their fault the brief was running so late and despite the wonderful world of the internet, this particular magistrate believed in hard copies, thank you so they'd drawn straws and connor had lost. "good luck with rush hour foot traffic!" yeah, thanks.
he manages to compose himself enough that when he hands the papers off to the clerk (with five minutes to spare!) he doesn't look like a total wreck. mission thusly accomplished has a minute to take a break, relived that he managed to not screw this up and get in her bad graces.
another day, another crisis, right?]
iii - wildcard
[you probably know how this one works! if you want a specific prompt by me let me know that, too.]
at your favorite tesco (but probably in city of london or enfield), at any time during the month
[look, everyone's gotta shop for groceries. connor's lists have gotten undeniably weirder in the last few months, offering to pick up things for his witch friends ("friends" - friend, in the singular, that's soeki) while here's there. most of this stuff honestly feels like a joke (candles and sage and he's honestly wondering if they're going for eye of newt and toe of frog next), but connor's a good friend and if he's going to be at tesco anyway he can pick up stuff for his buddy.
along with, you know, the usual - good looking produce, the atlantic, condoms, new lightbulb for the broken fixture, cold cereal, pasta, eggs. if you need help reaching something on a shelf, just want random commentary on your life choices, or happen to recognize connor from somewhere (his tinder account? maybe you already know him? the possibilities are endless) this prompt is for you.]
ii - @ the courthouse
city of london, towards the end of the business day.
Shit --
[this is connor, running through a crowd like an asshole, trying not to bump into anyone (but offering "sorry!" if he does, i mean he's not devoid of manners). he's carrying a briefcase with a brief from his boss/professor in it, one that the deadline is approaching, in about thirty minutes, says a quick look at his watch. according to her it was their fault the brief was running so late and despite the wonderful world of the internet, this particular magistrate believed in hard copies, thank you so they'd drawn straws and connor had lost. "good luck with rush hour foot traffic!" yeah, thanks.
he manages to compose himself enough that when he hands the papers off to the clerk (with five minutes to spare!) he doesn't look like a total wreck. mission thusly accomplished has a minute to take a break, relived that he managed to not screw this up and get in her bad graces.
another day, another crisis, right?]
iii - wildcard
[you probably know how this one works! if you want a specific prompt by me let me know that, too.]
no subject
no subject
no subject
It's okay. We'll deal with it.
no subject
[It's not said with any particular conviction, but he seems all right. He's made it this far, at least.]
Is it much further?
no subject
no subject
[Her eyebrows climb a little higher, as though she doesn't entirely believe what she's about to say herself.]
It's kind of my job.
no subject
no subject
The kind of job where you keep people from getting involved in things they're better off not knowing about.
no subject
[they make it to his building! success!]
This is me. Thanks again. [then, he tacks on, a little lamely:] I'm Connor. Maybe I'll..see you around? Hopefully not in this capacity.
no subject
[She offers up a small, encouraging smile at the last sentence.]
Hopefully not in this capacity, no. Try not to get eaten.