Absotively Posilutely

Zarina's favorite time of the week was when whosits and whatsits had new stock. She had made a deal with a clerk awhile ago that if there was a good tip she would supply cupcakes and they had come through majorly this week.

Handblown glass perfume bottles and a set at that!

Zarina was almost vibrating at the excitment. "Do you want to smell this? I think there are hints of lavender? I'm hoping this other one might still have some citrus notes."

"You're out here sniffin' history like it's a fine wine." he teased, a wonky but well meaning smile on his face. He leaned in, giving it a cautious sniff, like he half expected it to leap at him, trying to bite. "Yep, that's lavender alright. Smells like a grandma's garden, don't it? Let's hope the citrus' got some zing left." He took another quick whiff before leaning back, crossing his arms. "You've a nose for the good stuff. What's the deal with these? You collect or you gonna work your magic on 'em?"

The insincerity in Dodger's tone, while clocked, doesn't feel mocking. Rather, it feels like the other man is going along with the joke. Which is why Winston laughs, grinning, and shakes his head.

"We have. It was th' reason I came back here to help the county. If you haven't noticed, the town can be a bit...touchy."

And that was barely scratching the surface of it.

"Plus, I also grew up here, so it was...nice to come back, give back to the town a bit. But, ah, if you weren't here for it, we had th' forest encroach into the whole town. People couldn't get in or out."

"Hold up, though. Forest takin' over the whole town? Trappin' people?" He let out a low whistle, hooked on the story but unsure if he believed it. "Now, that's the kind of wild I expect this place to be deliverin'. But, still. You're out here savin' the day from rogue trees? Respect." He shook his head, bot amazed and thoroughly entertained by the mental image of Winston wrestling branches like some action hero.

"You're proper noble, you know that, don't you? One afternoon in your world makes my whole life sound like a snooze. How'd you clean up all them trees, anyway? Or was they magic trees what just…disappeared, when they knew they'd met their match? No, no, let me guess, gigantic magical woodchipper? It could happen, y'know."

"Oh, I got a theme song already," Winston shoots back, grin widening and going lopsided. Endearing, almost, in a way. He sways with the nudge from Dodgers' elbow, but doesn’t mive otherwise. Instead, he waits until the man gains his feet then nods toward the mouth of the alley.

"Ah, no. Nothin' like that. I run a company. DevTech? We, ah, work with communities to repair infrastructure after Magical and Mundus disasters."

Which, really, was the long and short of it. Winston wiggles the box in his hand, chuckling quietly. "This'll be one o' th' quarterly meetings, so - boring. Like I said, least I could do."

"I think you're makin' the right move. Pastries over paperwork's never set me wrong in my life." Sure, he couldn't read and worked at a bakery, but, surely that only made it more true. "Alright, Winston, I'm holdin' ya to that tour. I don't want some intern showin' me the coffee machine and callin' it a day. You're giving me the full VIP experience, yeah?"

Toby glanced down at himself, as if somehow the man could actually see the stories he was referencing. Like he had accidentally carried the copies of the Swynlake Squire with him, one stuck to the bottom of his shoe or something instead of a strip of toilet paper. But no, he was as he usually was these days– black shoes, black trousers with a black belt, white long-sleeved button up, and a black tie. He had left behind his messenger bag and camera at home, having no need for them on this little mission of his.

He looked back up as the man introduced himself. Dodger. What a neat name! Neat name for a neat individual!

"I'm Toby," he replied, holding out his hand for a shake. Only he realized he'd put up the one that was opposite to the hand that was moving his lighter into his pocket and switched to the other one right quick. "It's a pleasure to meet you. And yeah, I've got loads of stories! Granted most of them are not my own, but I have them nonetheless."

It didn't occur to him that this might sound strange without the added context of him being a writer, so he did not tag on that information.

"The best stories are always the ones you choose to carry with ya, ain't they? Ain't too often anything worth sharing over a campfire happens to me, at least." He shrugged happily, voice warm as he lead the way, motioning for Toby to follow. "You a man of many lives, or a gossip? Usually the main ways someone like yourself has a personal library."

He shot the other a sidelong glance, waiting to see if there was perhaps layers to his personality. A facade, if you will. Something Dodger knew a thing or two about, himself. "C'mon then, gimme a taster. One story. Don't even have to give names; real classy. I'll match ya with one of my own once we're sat down. Deal?"

Winston hears the question, sees the smirk, and promptly huffs, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Mm, maybe. Also far less messy, so I hear. Best course o' action, innit?"

The man grabs his hand and Winston yanks, tugging him up easily and not even disturbing his box of baked goods. "Oh good. I'd jump for joy, but, yah know, might throw somethin'," he intones, hungry dry as his grin curls around the edges of his eyes.

When he gestures at the boxes, Winston glances at them. "Mm? Oh, ah jus' an order for a meeting I'm running tomorrow mornin'. Least I could do," he says, shrugging slightly.

"Mettin' grub. Fancy. What kinda of meeting needs all them treats? Don't tell me you run a secret society too? My man, you are a mystery." He was genuinely curious as to what was going on there, but, he also sort of assumed the reality would be much more mundane than what he'd come up with. So, he was happy to sit with the fantasy long enough to enjoy it. "Guess I picked a good day to need company then, huh? Though, if we hit it off, do I really gotta wait until Thursday? Or do I get some kind of membership card?"

"Well, a one off spell won't do the trick." She said simply. "It would have to be something more permanent. "Of course, the old saying goes it takes 21 days to make a habit. I'd start with a charm -- a confidence charm, probably. Easy enough to charm an item of clothing, or jewellery, something you carry with you. Eventually, the charm will wear off, and natural confidence should take over."

"Alright, alright, real talk. You ever charm something for yourself? 'Cause, me? I'd do it all the time. Or, is that one of the rules? That you can't. Cause wouldn't everybody? It makes for a lot of thinking."

"Well, there's plenty of boxes that need hauling, so I'm sure you'll be kept busy." And if it meant Marie didn't have to do any heavy lifting, she was glad to have him here, whether it was his scene or not. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled, saying, "I am, as it happens. I'm playing Velma Kelly. It's nice to be the antagonist for a change, honestly."

"Haulin' boxes is more my speed anyway. Keeps me out of trouble. Well, mostly." He grinned, there was always box related trouble to be created, if and when the situation called for it. "But, I'd admit, all this theatre buzz is growin' on me. You lot make it look like a real party." He lopped his head to one side, curious. "So, Velma, what's the best part about bein' you? You get to break some hearts? Chew the scenery? Gimme a spoiler here."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said dryly. "If your supervisor or your boss have any issues with correct organization, give them my number and I can discuss it with them." Picking up one of his business cards, he slid it across the table.

He tucked the card into his jacket pocket, tapping it for dramatic safe keeping before giving Maximus a mock salute. "Bins'll be parade-ready next time. Promise. But, if that dumpster fairy starts causing ruckus again, I'm calling you first. Out of my pay grade, is what it is." He winked, stepping back toward the door. "Appreciate the chat, officer. I'll keep my nose clean…mostly." He flashed a grin and tipped his head, sauntering out and already plotting how to spin this encounter into a story for the bakery crew when he got back.

Toby had still been going through the back log of the town's newspapers, reading from the years where he had been writing for it and all the things he did not remember witnessing over the years. It strange, how there could be weeks and weeks of nothing but articles about farm animals or a local dance recital and then bam, something earth shattering would happen– sometimes literally.

At present, he had read the articles about the local pub burning down, and the other stories about the place and its owner leading up to it. He had come down to look at the still empty plot of land, wondering if he had ever spent time inside of it. He couldn't imagine he had, but who knew?

At the sound of someone's voice in the back alley he was lurking in he jumped, startled, and turned. He spotted the man sitting against the back of the bakery, and quickly had a look around himself to confirm that it was Toby he was addressing. Since they were the only two people there, he assumed so.

And, oh, he was inviting Toby for a drink! Wow!

"Uh–" he said, so stunned was he at being asked to spend time with a stranger for seemingly no reason, before shrugging and smiling. "Nah, yeah, sure! Where to?"

He slung his bag over his shoulder, snapping the lighter shut and pocketing it. "Alright, man. You're in. That's the spirit." His voice was warm as he turned, jerking his thumb to point down the street.

"There's a dive down thattaway I like to frequent. Cheap and cheerful, nobody cares if you're on top of the world or draggin' it behind ya." He looked Toby over. "You look like you're carrying a story or two there. I'll trade you a good one for a beer. Name's Dodger, by the way. Makes us less strangers."

As she walked in to grab a couple of things for her and her Granddaughter, she heard someone talking about their day. A faint sympathetic sigh came out of her which was her way of saying, “ I feel your pain. “

That’s when the stranger offered her to drink along with him. “ I don’t drink with strangers, but, you seem like good company!” She admitted while grabbing her treats. “Maybe we can hang here for a bit instead.”

He threw his coat over the back steps, trying to make them more comfortable before offering her a place to sit down. "Name's Dodger, by the way. Figure if we're chattin', I ain't a stranger no more. So, what's your story, huh? Somebody's birthday, or are you just eatin' your feelings? 'Cause, I could get behind that idea."

Well, Mr. Dad wasn't wrong. Jack did feel and look like freshly microwaved shit. His tongue was rough as sandpaper, his throat even worse-- like he'd swallowed fucking cat litter. He kept trying to chase the faint taste of piss and misery with a series of liquids: first, water, then, coffee (black), then vanilla syrup (ft. coffee), then a peanut-butter-and-toffee milkshake he'd picked up at Chippamunka from a perky misplaced Abercrombie model.

The milkshake was nearly done. He slurped the last toffee chunks through his straw, hand shaky, as he eyed this stranger trying to get friendly.

"That isn't a euphemism for sex, is it?"

"You look like you got some demons to chase away, won't hold them back much with that sludge." He crinkled his nose at the milkshake, "You'll chase 'em to the toilet maybe, but, that's about it. Ditch that, and come with me. Place I'm going? They don't care if you're lookin' like you just lost a bet with a blender. Hell, they might even take pity on you, get us somethin' free."

Winston had gone out the back of the bakery, after picking up an order for tomorrow's early morning meeting. The staff deserved a pick-me-up for the summer months, especially with the uptick in work they'd be getting.

Newrly stumbling across a man with a lighter, speaking to himself, hadn't been part of the plan, but Winston also wasn't the type to leave someone alone like that. When the guy offers cheap beer, Winston arches a brow and shuffles the box beneath an arm.

Then, he offers a hand down to the man.

"Alright, you got yourself a deal." He nodded, feeling lighter already. "My wallowin' days are behind me - for now. Say, what you got there, anyway?" He gestured to the other's order with a quick motion of his head. "Ain't somethin' that goes well with day drinking, is it? C'mon, it's like you've been sent here on a mission to play Good Samaritan. Don't tell me you're this generous every day?"

Angelo hadn't particularly meant to intrude on whatever maudlin wordplay was happening behind the bakery. He just...kind of had. He'd been taking a short cut, really, and figured it would save on time for him to hightail it over to Pixie's.

Instead, he stops and listens to a complete stranger tell him, virtually, that he'd been this close to leaving himself in a walk-in.

Like. Been there, but damn.

A crooked grin takes over Angelo's face, and he rocks back on his heels checking the watch he had strapped to his wrist. "How 'bout I do yah one better an' i make yah a few drinks, on th' house, yah keep tellin' me what's botherin' yah, an' then wr see about th' cheap beer? I've got a shift in a few minutes."

"You always this generous with strangers, or do I just look that pathetic? Be honest now, I can handle it."

But there were the good things. Like Taylor Swift finally owning her music! As she deserved! The excited shout she had let out and then immediately had to tell the girls was absolutely necessary. And if they all belted out some of Taylor’s earliest hits then who would blame them? It was a victory for a great artist! 

This good news was able to boost her a bit, and she wandered through town with one of her earbuds in playing Love Story. A smile spread across her face and she did a little twirl at part of the song even though she was out in the middle of main street. So what? She was off duty and she was celebrating what could be celebrated. She quietly sang along and continued to dance for herself until she spotted someone staring. “Oh don’t mind me. Just practicing for prom. Haven’t really done the dance thing much you know?”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then squinted slightly like he was trying to decide if she was serious. "Prom?" He parroted, voice rough around the edges as he hadn't spoke aloud in quite some time. "Ain't you a little...? You know what, never mind. Good for you." Dodger didn't keep up with the town's comings and goings, and it was times like these he was sure he was better off for it. 

He cocked his head a little, hands still in his pockets. "That what they're teachin' you at the academy now? How to two-step your way through a felony stop?" It sounded rude, but, there was no real bite behind it, not really. Just curiosity, a little pinch of jealousy that she could be so seemingly happy for no apparent reason. 

He’d just picked up his food and started down main street when there was a commotion, what sounded like a yell, and something heavy knocked into him. Shit! Shang stumbled and nearly fell over, dropping one of the bags he was holding. 

“Ahh… not the dumplings,” Shang grumbled as he rushed to pick up the bag before he could grumble at the person who had done this. “What do you think you’re doing?”

"Hell. Man, I'm..." he looked down at the guy, catching sight of the dumpling bag and wincing. "Ah, damn. Not the dumplings." He repeated, not really knowing what else to say. He knew he had no right to snap back. 

"What I meant to be doin' was walking like a normal human being, but clearly I took a wrong turn into 'bull in a china shop' territory." His hands hovered uncertainly, wondering if he should help out but also not wanting to make things worse. 

"You good, at least? Nothin' squashed but the dinner, I hope?" Then, after a short pause he added. "I swear, if there's something sacred in there, I'll pay you back as soon as I have the cash. I'll make it right."

"There are many fairies who are employed here in town. However, the placement of the dumpster bins is the responsibility of the police department and the fire department to ensure safe and clear roads. If this continues to be an issue, there is a potential of fining the business who is unable to maintain proper safety."

He rocked back on his heels, considering everything for a moment before speaking again. "Truth be told, I ain't runnin' the place or nothing. I just scrape the plates and keep my head down. But, if it means keeping folks off our backs? I can make sure them bins are lined up like soldiers next time you pass by." Then, after a little moment of silence, that crooked smirk settled right back in. "Though, if one of 'em ends up a little wonky, you'll know it wasn't me. Must've been that rogue dumpster fairy after all."