undergrounds | [open] bright as the day fresh as the moon and stale as the hay

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[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.]

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You must not know the clerk.

[Coward knows he shouldn't bother the young man. Especially when he looks so relieved to have managed. But he also can't help but want to pass on a bit of wisdom. Especially since it will only really help in specific situations.]

A phone call to her is usually all it takes to get her to print the documents out to give to the judge.

[Of course, he'd established the privilege to do so. Lots of free coffees.]

[Finnick's groceries primarily consist of pretentious, organic ingredients for home cooked meals along with Annie's favourite snack foods, but every once in a while he finds himself craving something that just screams poor diet, and this is one of those days. One of his guilty pleasure is a name brand cereal which can only boast 300% of your daily intake of processed sugars, and so it's in the cereal aisle that Finnick comes across Connor. He's a human, like just about everyone else in the store, so there's nothing particularly notable about him other than he's standing in front of the cereal that Finnick has been craving all day, which presents him with that awkward opportunity to engage in human contact or just to wait it out.]

[No, he's not waiting it out. He's almost 450 years old goddammit he's waited long enough.]

Excuse me.

[Finnick's voice is smooth as he reaches around Connor to grab a box of the offending breakfast food, leaning into his personal space for just a moment before he withdraws with his prize. See? He can be polite.]

[He'd sent a text earlier. There soon, bringing dinner. Connor Walsh was Soeki's first real friend he'd made in London since he moved here, even if it had been under less than ideal circumstances, considering his little ghost issue. That bond had, miraculously, stuck, through Soeki introducing him to Circle Midnight and through whatever else the universe threw at either of them. These nights in with their respective books to eat dinner and study in each other's presence aren't uncommon.

He shows up outside Connor's flat about when he said he would, bags of takeaway in one hand and a couple of thick, musty-smelling books under his other arm. Soeki is dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie, damp from the light drizzle.]

C'mon, open up, it's wet and miserable out here.

[Most nights, Natasha wouldn't have noticed Connor. Or, she wouldn't have noticed him any more than she would have noticed any other young, attractive warm body. He might have been anyone out at night—coming home from the grocery store?—something like that anyway.

Tonight, it's not so much him she notices at first either. It's his tail.

The vampire looks about twenty, and even if he plays dress up like he's straight out of the 70s London punk scene, she doesn't think he's much older than he looks. There's no sense of age about him. The appearance is a conscious affectation, not habit. An older vampire would know better. So at best he's young, and at worst, he's young and stupid.

And a young, stupid vampire openly following a young, attractive warm body down the street in the dark? That does get her attention. At this point, Natasha's not looking to pick fights with the local nests. As far as vampires go, her goal was to keep as low of a profile as she could for as long as she could. But now it's her job to protect humans from supernatural depredation—which is as good of a reason as any to explain why she doesn't hesitate to follow along, keeping an eye on both of them.]

[Five minutes to spare, is it?

There's a young woman standing outside the courthouse, leaning against a wall near a pack of smokers, and as Connor rushes by, bolting into the building, a few loose papers slip through the briefcase, scattering at her feet. She looks at them for a moment, takes a drag off her cigarette, and then leans down to collect them. Some kind of legal mumbo jumbo, she can tell immediately, but she's got little to no clue beyond that.

Another inhale of smoke, another few lines of meaningless text. But he was in such a damn rush, they must be important.

Okay. Fuck. She puts out the cigarette, with the slightest roll of her eyes, and goes inside to seek him out.]

Hey. [Once she finds him, holding up the papers.] Lose something?

[If they happen to be important, he now has three minutes and thirty seconds to get them where they need to go.]

[It's hardly the first time Connor's asked him for help with his work and really Oliver is more than happy to do it. It doesn't take much more than a mention of the possibility from Connor for him to agree. He's already set up by the time he's due to come over. He just has to wait for him to arrive.]

[Simon isn't 100% certain what day it is. Probably Wednesday, but who knows? Juggling his classes and an increasingly full-time position as a Guardian means sleep isn't something he gets a lot of. He's coming off an all-night investigation in the City, and with £6.28 to his name (because of course he'd leave his wallet and credit cards in his other jacket), lunch is going to have to believe a sandwich and as much caffeine as he can afford before heading straight to a 2 pm lab. Assuming it's Wednesday.

Therefore: Tesco.

He makes a beeline for the prepared foods case, too sleep-deprived to pay too much attention to the other shoppers around him. He doesn't notice that he's about to collide with another man until it's too late.]

"Watch where--sorry. My fault."

Edited 2016-03-11 16:43 (UTC)

[Well if it isn't the budding criminal defence attorney. Eames is here picking up a few things for dinner, (and a couple of bottles of wine, gotta keep stocked up,) and it's pure coincidence that sees him in the cold section next to Connor while he debates on which cheese to buy.]

[Eames-- well, "Stephen" his name card had said, currently has two different brands of feta in his hands when he turns his head to address him.]

Connor, was it? [Well certainly not the Tesco own brand cheese. That's going back on the shelf.] Small world.

[ Like an asshole is right, thanks, Connor. Matt's powers alert him to the young man running his way but being that he's in public, he can't exactly dodge in time to make it seamless. He avoids knocking him over with his cane (a tempting thought,) and only just brushing shoulders before Connor continues on his way. Wow, he must've been in a hell of a hurry to not notice the dude he bumped into was blind, way to go.

I mean, Matt doesn't think much of it. He's already spoken to one of the clerks, though in his case it's to request some braille copies of a few legal documents, which he knows that's going to take a while. So he came early. Unlike some people.

But he won't hold it against him or anything. It's not like Matt could tell who bumped into him, nope. He's blind. Got the glasses and cane and everything. ]

Long day?

[Bars were nothing unusual. Nancy had been working in them for far too long. It's the lawyer crowd that's new. Honestly, she tended to stick to dive-bars, though a few of her clients were of a much higher class. Still, she wanted something new, so here she was, leaning up against the bar as most courts and offices closed for the day.

She wasn't looking for Connor's type- her thought was the older, angsty lawyer facing a nasty divorce and craving some company, but she was always willing to be surprised. She just happened to slide into the bar next to him, before ordering a gin martini. After a moment, though, she had to go forward and speak to the handsome man to her left.

Turning her head, she pushed her hair behind her ear and smiled before addressing him.] D'you know how the martinis are here? They're expensive enough they've got to be.

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