:\404\not_found

it's not the spanish that gets him to stop. there are probably very few places in the united states where you'd find more fluent speakers than new mexico, and a phrase in his first language is rarely enough to get him to turn his head―unless, of course, it sounds distressed. he is working, after all, and the safety and security of the guests is his top ( only, it's his only ) priority. but this voice doesn't sound distressed, not really. at least, not in a way that might constitute an emergency on his part. he's heard people calling out for his attention because they can't find their child or they're having a medical crisis, or if they're trying to call him toward a fight. this isn't any of this, so jay doesn't plan to stop.

and then she says his name.

jay freezes in his tracks. she used his full name. his first thought is that she must work for the park, upper management. but what would she want to do with him? he's just a security guard. fuck, is he about to get canned because he let that guy come through with all his own food earlier? but she doesn't look like park management, and she's not wearing a badge. he narrows his gaze behind a pair of dark lenses as he turns to better face her.

❝ have we met? ❞ jay asks, studying her face in an attempt to find an answer and coming up short. ❝ actually, better question―is this important? and if it is, can you walk and talk? i'm working, so. ❞

Lucy presses her lips together for a moment, eyes narrowing almost reflexively at his question. Is this important? She knows what he's asking, or rather, knows the context in which he's asking, rather. Of course it's important. It's the most important thing she's ever done, she'd argue, and even if it takes 20 years, she will have her answers—the fact that the folk in Intercept seem so keen to move on without answers is alarming to say the least.

But she doesn't give into the flare of red hot that shoots up from her stomach and threatens to pour out of her mouth. Lucy clamps down on it, forcing it back into the furnace that keeps her moving ahead, and instead gestures for him to continue walking as her answer. "I'm aware, and I know I'm probably inconveniencing you, so I want you to know I appreciate your time and attention." Yes, being polite is better right now, no reason to immediately alienate a potential source by burning it out.

She pulls her business card out of her pocket, handing it to him. "Officially, I work for the Interceptor," she says, explaining the newspaper's name on the card. "But I'm not here for a story." There's a moment of hesitation as she calculates how to approach broaching the exact topic that she wished to speak to him about. "I read about your brother. I have... a personal attachment to figuring out what happened to him."

He arched his back in an attempt to get the stiffness out of it, but stopped when it started to feel like he was just working his muscles in a position they would refuse to get out of for the rest of the night. The last thing he needed was to be bedridden tomorrow. "I aged fifty years just now with your yapping. Eat your food." Mingyu chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck before reaching into the popcorn himself. "Shit." Sniffing his sleeve and towards his armpit, he visibly recoiled. "I smell like the sweatiest movie theatre I have ever smelled. It's like, half as bad as when you get out of the gym."

A fond smile pulled at his mouth. The comment was most likely the closest thing he would get to an admission that they had missed him, but he would take it. "Who else is going to eat all the leftovers I bring home from work every day? You're lucky I grew in height having to eat it all by myself while you were gone." He'd missed his friend. A lot, in fact. Part of him had been worried he'd never see them again — a therapist would call it trauma, but it had been a long time since he'd had his last meeting with a grief counselor. Mandatory bullshit to help with his anger issues and all that.

"Hmm, more fun for me." He stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth, relieved to finally sit down and get to eat something, even though his appetite for kettle corn had diminished greatly over the day. Especially with how many times he had burned his damn hand on the machine. "After the fireworks I need some real food, though. Am I allowed to pay for that, shorty?"

All Maisie does is snort at the pointed jab that they didn't help him get the stuff. They could've, certainly, but Mingyu hadn't specifically asked for help, and Maisie operates under the idea that if you don't ask, you probably don't need help. Of course, that all falls apart under the fact that they, themself, don't ask for help even when they do need it, but that's different. Instead, Maisie grabs a handful of popcorn.

"Oh, you're so funny, Gyu," they comment instead, rolling their eyes as they shove the popcorn into their mouth by the handful. Overall, Astroland has lost its lustre in their adulthood, only capable as seeing it as their place of work rather than anything magical, but even if the quality of the rides, games, and merch goes down, somehow, the food never does. Maybe partially it's because it's hard to really fuck up popcorn. "Lucky, am I? I call bullshit. If eating was all that's needed to grow, I would be a giant." Maybe they are, in their head, but reality insists on differential facts.

"I'm not short," Maisie insists, and not the first time in their friendship. "I'm just... vertically limited. Otherwise I'd just be too powerful." The grin on their face indicates bullshit, if the popcorn tossed at Mingyu's head didn't. "But like, you should drop by the gym once a week, man. I can help you with that old man back of yours."

"My hunt trip was a success, I bring food to feed my starving family!" Mingyu exclaimed dramatically as he walked up to meet his friend with a large popcorn and two Icees, careful to put them down before they could topple over in his arms. The blond sat down and stretched, his back audibly cracking. A busy day was nice for a change, but until now he hadn't had a single break and even Mingyu wasn't immune to exhaustion. "Maybe after today we can go on a trip somewhere — I made so much money in tips!" It would sound like a brag if it wasn't such an unusual day for everyone working at Astroland.

His hands started digging through his pockets and pulling out the crumpled up dollar bills he'd shoved in there. Though it most likely looked like a lot more money than it actually was, his mind was already racing with all the fun activities he might be able to do with it. His focus shifted back to Maisie, eyes sparkling with excitement, despite his exhaustion. "What do you think? We could even just get some drinks and rent movies!"

"Fuckin' finally, dude, took you a damn age."

Of course that isn't the reality, but Mingyu could've been gone for half a second and the complaint would've still been lobbed at his head. After all, it's not the validity of the complaint, it's the vibe of it. Sitting up from where they had been resting back on their arms against the table, Maisie grabs one of the Icees and idly starts moving the straw back and forth into a low-effort stabbing motion to break up the uniformity of the frozen liquid.

The audible crack of Mingyu's back at he stretches has Maisie scrunch their nose, finally pulling their eyes from somewhere off in the distance to their friend. "Holy shit, are you good? It's like one of my uncles is right next to me. You age like fifty years while I was gone, or what?"

They take a quick sip of the Icee, and before Maisie can even offer help with any back stifness, Mingyu is already running his mouth at lightning speed—it's not unusual for him, certainly, but it still takes Maisie a bit to readjust after the years of not having seen him so consistently. "Aw, man, almost sounds like you missed me or somethin'," they grin, pulling him over a bit to wrap an arm around his shoulders. "Yeah, sounds good for me, but I'm gonna pay my share, not gonna let a long stick man pay for my shit."

the gum in dixie's mouth had gone stale. she was leaning up against the bar beside the gate to the alien swing ride twirling the cheap chewing gum around her finger, just for something to do. it was the most boring ride to attend because it was just swings in the air for a little bit. no exciting music, lights, or fast motions. and the fact that they are ufos does not change a damn thing, either. she was just there to make sure everyone walking in was tall enough so they didn't slide through the seat when they lifted the swings up.

dixie was fucking bored out of her mind.

that is, until she saw one of her main girls nesrin turn the corner. "oh my god, nesi get over here, right now!" she immediately opened her arms for them so she could wrap them in a big hug when they got close enough, then a kiss on each of their cheeks, of course. "i can't believe you look that good right now! seriously, i'm so jealous. come keep me company? they stuck me on the dumbest ride for the first part of my shift." dixie rolled her eyes and pulled nesrin over to the barricade to sit with her.

In all honestly, Nesrin has a lot more to do than go to a—or the—theme park to spend the day having fun and taking in the sights. Their presence at Astroland has been few and far between since the park's revamp, the loss of their childhood's Adventureland still something that stings somewhere in the distance of their mind. But this is a special occasion, who is Nesrin, really, to pass up a party like this? There may not be explicit drinking and dancing and traditional partying, but such an occasion is a party nonetheless. Work can wait for a day―besides, the brewing chemicals don't need them to babysit them while they process.

She hadn't seen Dixie, hadn't explicitly been looking out for her—Dixie is her own person with her own schedule and life, after all—but the moment the familiar voice reaches her ears, her head snaps in the direction it came from, eyes lighting up at the sight of the blonde woman. "Oh, you're working" she exclaims, skipping over, barefeet painlessly brushing along the paved park path to make her way over to her friend.

Not one to deny a hug, Nesrin immediately ducks into the open arms to wrap her own around the woman, accepting the kisses without complaint, rather than a broad grin. The compliment comes as a surprise, regardless of how many times Dixie might compliment them, and the grin turns somewhat sheepish. "I don't know why you'd be jealous, Dixie, you're very beautiful." They pause. "If you want, I can get you something to make the shift go faster. Well, not faster, because I'm not a time wizard, but I can bring you things that increase dopamine to make things not so boring, and if things aren't boring, you're far less likely to look at the time, and poof! Time goes fast."

Sitting down next to Dixie, Nesrin gives her a wide grin. "Or we could make out, that usually helps me."

❝ wipe the scowl off yer face, ye miserable wee shite. yer gonna scare away all the potential customers ❞

there's a rare smirk lifting the corners of his lips as lindsay strides up to the games booth where his nibling must have been assigned for their shift ; he and santiago haven't been at the park for very long, but he's kept his eyes peeled for the younger o'halloran since they entered. with the sun slowly beginning to sink toward the horizon and flooding the sky with color, the midway has begun to come alive, all flashing neon lights against a deep fuchsia backdrop. lindsay has never been a fan of noise―auditory or visual or otherwise―but there is something strangely charming about the kitschy aesthetic of astroland.

( or maybe that's just what he's telling himself since he's already invested so much of his life in the city built on this place. )

❝ here, got y'this ❞ lindsay says, abruptly holding out a gaudy souvenir cup. he's sure they've got access to whatever concessions they want working at the park, but the truth is, he spent far too much on this unnaturally-dyed lemonade and if he's not going to drink it himself, somebody should. maisie doesn't need to know he took a sip first and nearly gagged before returning to the same stand to purchase a bottle of water. ❝ i was sent for information. when're ye getting off? santi wants to know if yer gonna be able t'watch the fireworks with us. ❞

While generally a ride operator, with the Independence Day thing and people calling out, sick or otherwise, Maisie had acquiesced and picked up the additional shift to cover. The idea of having to work another full shift right before their own actual shift isn't something they are too pleased about, but at the end of the day, money is money.

The upside is that the game they're minding isn't really well visited right now, even with or maybe because of the whole special thing happening right now, so they'd pulled out their GameBoy to play a game of their own when a familiar voice cuts through into their auditory receptors. Looking up from the small screen, Maisie furrows their brows in confusion as their eyes land on the cup held out to them, then up at their uncle, slowly taking the offered item.

"No you fuckin' didn't," Maisie argues, looking down at and inspecting the cup now in their hand. Turning off and pocketing the GameBoy, Maisie pushes off the side of the game booth to stand straighter—not that it did anything for their height—and takes a sip of the drink. The immediate hit of ulta-sweet hits both their nose and their taste buds simultaneously like a truck, the taste of it sticking to the back of their throat and the inside of their nose like a thick layer. "Fuckin' hell, man."

While trying to process the assault on their senses, Maisie wipes their mouth quickly, clearing their throat. "I dunno, dude, some cunt called out so I gotta cover a shift, got my own coming up in..." They pull their arm up to check their watch. "Like thirty minutes."

They shrug. "If he really wants me to watch it with you, you can hang out while I 'work'. Doubt anyone's gonna come by while the fireworks are goin' anyway. The fuck you here for anyway? Doesn't feel like your speed."

LOCATION: the wolfe's den. FOR: maisie o'halloran.

CALL HIM AN ISOLATO -- but remi has always felt he was at his best in his own company, even when it was something done in a social setting. such as, in this case, smashing back a couple of beers. he was feeling them in his system now as he leans against the outside wall, lit cigarette dangling carelessly between his teeth as he stares out into the night... that is, until they notice a figure standing rather still not too far away from him. he's always on his guard... but in his way of life, he has to be. removing the instrument from between his lips, he taps the ash from it before returning it to his mouth. who was this person, and what did they want? this... short person could very well just want to bum one themselves, or they very well could be his atonement for something he had done. he wouldn't be shocked either way.

Maisie is... procrastinating. They know hanging out at a bar isn't the optimal use of their time, or even necessarily healthy for them in their current mental state, but here they are regardless. Hands in their pockets, Maisie has been staring at the bar for the past ten minutes, debating whether to go in, and arguing with themself that they should move on and just go home.

Whether they would've gone in or ultimately gone home, the process of the decision is violently interrupted by a question being directed towards them.

For a moment, all Maisie can do is blink, then with one glance over their shoulder, they confirm that, yes, in fact, the question is being directed towards them. Narrowing their eyes at the rough-looking giant—though, compared to Maisie, everyone's giant—Maisie slowly approaches, looking at the cigarettes offered.

"Sure, if you don't attempt to kill me. I'll take your dick out in the process, so you know. We'll both lose," they warn, folding their arms across their chest.