kid wonder.

“That your cat stuck in a tree?” The question was posed with a smile, and Alec turned back towards the tree that the whole fire department and EMT services had been called out to. He was just there to make sure the cat was alright, but it wasn’t like he was qualified for that, either. “When I first became an EMT, I thought this shit was fake. Turns out it’s real.”

Looking up at the tree and the commotion that had surrounded it, River picked up a spoonful of frozen yogurt as one of the responding officers stood beside him. “No, sir... I don’t have a cat,” he told the man, putting the spoon into his mouth. “I’ve got a bunny named Ray Gun and ant farm to tend do, but no cat of the sort.” He lowered his gaze then, to finally meet the eyes of the person he was speaking to. “Did they really call you here for this?”

         Exiled Records wasn’t one of Evangeline’s favourite places just because it was a store filled with the best thing in the world: music. The store also happened to employ one of her favourite human beings in the world: her Uncle River. She texted him earlier this morning to let him know that she was stopping by to see him for a visit. It was safe to say that a big reason Evangeline moved to Seattle was to be closer with her aunt and uncle. Her mother was a shell of a human being meanwhile Ryanne and River were the closest people in the world that reminded Evangeline of her own father. Maybe that was selfish of her, but it brought her the source of comfort she’d been missing. “Uncle Riv, I’m here,” Evangeline calls as she enters the store with a brown paper bag filled with assorted cookies in one hand and an iced coffee in the other. Spotting the check out counter empty, the blonde sets down the brown paper bag and immediately begins using her free hand to flip through a few vinyl records. “Did you see Elon Musk’s tweet last night about his internet-satellite thing working?” Evangeline asks outloud, assuming that wherever River is, he can hear her. “Pretty cool, ain’t it?” She actually had no idea what half of the article meant, she really just wanted to hear her uncle’s opinion.

RIVER GRISSOM.

He was organizing the stock of vinyls and CDs in the back room, dusting them off, wiping the covers, even though he knew he should probably be sitting at the counter should someone come in and make a purchase. But that was just the thing: he hated talking to customers, and Victor wasn’t around to do that for him. Still, if someone really wanted to buy something, they’d call him. 

Which, someone did, but not the kind of person he was expecting. Uncle Riv, I’m here told him everything he needed to know about who this was. His niece’s random visits into the store would always be the highlight of his day whenever she’d come over, and while he generally detested surprises (the very idea of them seemed ridiculous and something only humans could ever come up with) seeing such a familiar face that wasn’t his twin sister always made his day better. Patting his hands together as he came out of the stock room, he greeted Evangeline with a quiet ‘hello’ as he approached the counter and squeezed out a few drops of hand sanitizer that he took the liberty of placing there. “He’s just preparing everything that we need to survive when everyone eventually moves to Mars,” he said in reply to the news his niece had brought. “If you ask me, that’s his real agenda. Which I’m not complaining about. I’d quite like to live in Mars.” He eyed the paper bag on the counter and had half the mind to see what it was, but thought that he should ask first. “What is this?”

Immediately the offer of a sandwich put her back up, that was the girl’s initial reaction, because what kind of person offered a stranger a sandwich? Then again she was starving and maybe that was the issue here. It was entirely possible Casey wasn’t getting unwell at all but she was just hungry instead, it was worth a shot, playing the odds. “Uh, no it’s your lunch. I can buy my own, I’m not homeless.” The lawyer finally replied in a clipped voice, eyes darting around to try and locate somewhere she could buy her own sandwich instead of pilfering them from other people. “Sorry, what the hell possessed you to come and offer a stranger your lunch? No one is that desperate for friends are they?”

This wouldn’t have been the first time that someone had reacted adversely to an act of kindness from his part, mostly because what he considered ‘acts of kindness’ might come off as creepy to other people. And as he retracted his hand, bringing the paper bag back onto his lap, he tried to see where an offer of food to a strange went wrong. Surely, it couldn’t be that weird, could it? He would never poison her or put something weird in her food— then again, she had no idea who he was. Maybe that was where the fault lie.

No, no, that was ridiculous. “I didn’t say you were homeless,” he said, mildly annoyed that she would assume that was how he saw her. “And I have friends, I just... wanted to offer you food. ‘cause I saw you were upset about something, I wanted to do something nice... forget it.” He shook his head, turning his head away to continue nibbling at the sandwich that he did have open, retreating back into his side of the bench. “Could’ve just said no,” he mumbled under his breath, though he wasn’t sitting that far away from her that she still probably would’ve heard it.

Casey felt terrible, she was aching all over, hot and cold at the same time, and her nose wouldn’t stop running. It was becoming increasingly obvious she had caught whatever flu bug was going around but that wasn’t going to stop her from carrying on with her work day. She did have to take a seat on a bench for a second though, catching her breath which was something she never normally had to do. Paying no attention to anyone around her the brunette wasn’t sparked out of her own head until someone spoke to her, at least she thought it was her. “What? Sorry were you talking to me?” She asked in a tired, drained voice.

Noticing the brunette on the other end of the bench he was having lunch on, he noticed how she was sniffling and figured that she must’ve caught a virus going around, and thought back on how miserable he’d be if he was sick. The woman did look like she could use some cheering up, and far be it from him to initiate conversation with someone he didn’t know just to be nice, he offered half of his tuna sandwich to her, first extending the paper bag in her direction, then mumbled a question that sounded a lot like he was asking if he wanted the sandwich but was too reluctant to speak louder. When she acknowledged him after a few moments, he cleared his throat and further extended his hand. “I said, would you like this sandwich?”

@rivergris

Ryanne didn’t bother knocking as her fingers curled around the knob and turned it silently. From there it took only a moment for her to slip into the apartment, and just another few seconds to find her brother, his back turned to her as she slumped down onto his couch. “I hate everything.” She announced, with an overly dramatic sigh, hues glancing over his silhouette. “Everything except you.”

He’d arrived home from work not more than an hour ago, with the first item in his agenda to make himself that ham turkey sandwich he’d been craving all day. He was preparing his meal on the counter with a movie playing in the background, some cheap action film on Cinemax that he didn’t care for, but only wanted as background noise for how quiet his apartment was, when he heard a voice from behind him. Thinking it was from the TV, he didn’t pay any attention to it until the distinct sound of someone landing on his couch was heard, startling him. Holding up the bread knife as he turned abruptly to meet the intruder, he released a slow, deep sigh when he saw that it was only his twin. “Stop doing that!” he said, seemingly annoyed, but when would he ever turn down his sister’s company? Returning to spreading a bit more mayo on the bread, he turned his back towards her once again, letting her talk and talk and talk like she usually would if she needed to.

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺  𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺  𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩  𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘦  𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 ,  𝘸𝘢𝘹  𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳  𝘪𝘯  𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳  𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥  𝘵𝘰  𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘦  𝘪𝘯  𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 .  placing  the  baked  good  into  the  bag ,  they  set  that  next  to  the  register  and  turn  to  begin  making  the  drink .  

“  i  don’t  think  it’s  literal  so  much  as  it’s  maybe  paying  homage  to  the  city .  though  i  don’t  know  why ,  we  don’t  really  have  sea  monsters  here .  a  lot  of  fish  though ,  maybe  that’s  what  they  were  going  for ? ”

His eyes followed the movements of their hands as they prepared the beverage he usually ordered, happy that they remembered what he liked to get, though it was probably their job to. “Maybe they want to scare their opponents, too. Though, I don’t know why they would be, krakens aren’t real.” He glanced at her just to make a brief eye contact before bringing his eyes back to his wallet, only able to produce a twenty dollar bill, a couple of bucks extra what the amount he needed to pay was. Handing the money to them, “You can keep the change, Delilah,” he said, an awkward half-smile appearing on his lips.

Ethan furrowed his brows, giving River an odd look as he took the napkin from his grasp. “What the hell is this?” he grumbled, inspecting it front and back as if it was some sort of foreign object he’d never seen before. His eyes flickered over to his friend, tossing the napkin on the middle of the table. “So, what, you think giving it to me is a good idea? What am I supposed to do with this? She gave it to you, not to me,” he attempted to explain. “Not your type?”

Even though giving the napkin to Ethan was essentially just throwing it away, too, the sight of it lying inanimately on the table made him feel guilty. “Hey,” he called out softly, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth to pluck it off the wet spot it had landed on and shook it in his hand as if that would dry it. He slid on over opposite Ethan to take his seat and smoothed the napkin neatly on his side, in case either of them would change their mind. Is this what the dating scene has come to? “She was nice,” he told him. “And she was pretty. But… I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say when I call her. Why couldn’t we just talk about what she wanted to talk about right now? And why do I have to be the one to call her? I hate phone calls, I hate them.” He reached for his glass of water, half-empty now, and he wanted more, but he was just waiting for Ethan’s to run out so he’d be the one to call them for him. “I thought maybe you might like her instead.”

“Here,” River said, presenting a clean napkin to Ethan, holding it in his hands, like he were offering excalibur to King Arthur, his head bowed slightly. He’d just come from the bathroom and had every intention to head back to his and Ethan’s table when a girl had chatted him up near the hand dryers and, one thing led to another, then she was jotting down her number on a piece of napkin. Which he now was passing to his friend. “I don’t want it,” he added, urging Ethan to take it, thinking that he might have better use for the female’s company than him.

His hip hurts, a hell of a lot worse than it has in some time now   –   which is probably what he gets for flushing the pain meds that he’d hated so much, but oh well, he can deal with it. 

That is, until that’s suddenly no longer in the cards as the hip and leg in question suddenly decide to give out on him as he leaves the bookstore, sending him staggering back against the brick wall.  “ Oh, fuck, ”  he groans, reaching out to steady himself before he loses his balance entirely and makes a total fool of himself.  “ Fucking hell.”

He vaguely knew the guy from his trips to the bookstore, but they didn’t talk much besides River asking where to find this book or that. Sometimes, he was even hesitant to ask, finding the other male’s presence in the room to be ominous in some way. Today, he planned on stopping by the store after closing at work, but it seemed that it had closed earlier than expected. What also surprised him was the sight of the guy that worked there, squirming against the wall near it, profanities leaving his breath in mumbled curses. Approaching slowly, River blinks at the man, gripping the strap of his bag tightly as he did. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked, his choice of words not having been the best, but his intentions were good. “You don’t look so good.”

That brought Isaac to a screeching halt. He knew he preferred the shapes, but which one? He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, deep in thought about what the right choice was. After a full minute of silence he spoke again, “Pumpkins.” 

He thought he had him cornered, thought he might win this debate after all, but then Isaac just had to answer him with what was a perfectly reasonable choice. His own response buffering in his head, he frowned at the younger male. “Well, then... that particular shape just has more peanut butter than any other shape, but that doesn’t mean that all of them are better than the regular cup ones, based solely on your argument that the shapes versions have a more appealing ‘peanut butter to chocolate ratio’, because that’s-” The interruption from the waitress was the only thing that allowed him a pause for breath, getting way too heated for such a mundane argument. Beverly, or whatever her name was, asked if they wanted anything more to order, maybe even a cup of coffee or some pie. “Yes, I’d like for him to get a hot plate of common sense.” He shook his head, already gathering up the papers scattered over his side of the booth. 

╰ ♡ ✧ 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 !!

𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘺 .  they’ve  cleaned  and  cleaned  again  the  coffee  bar ,  the  glasses ,  the  bake  case ;  all  of  it  ,  over  and  over ,  and  all  that’s  left  to  do  is  wait .  so  when  they  finally  look  up  to  address  the  customer ,  their  mouth  hasn’t  quite  caught  up  to  the  customer  service  standards .  it  helps  that  they’re  familiar  with  this  person ,  a  relieved  smile  curling  across  their  face .  

“  welcome  to  grind  house ,  your  usual ?       also ,  when  this  hockey  team  moves  into  the  city ,  what  are  the  odds  that  the  general  populace  changes ?      we’ll  have  more  stars  than  we  know  what  to  do  with .       or  krakens ,  if  twitter  polls  are  to  be  believed .  ” 

He didn’t normally talk to baristas besides having to tell them what he wanted to order, but the first time he’d put together the fact that this was the same person who worked at the café and the bookstore he frequented, he just had to ask if they had a twin. That would be the more logical reason, wouldn’t it? But then it turned out that they didn’t and they really just had more than one job, he left it alone. Somehow, though, that made them his favorite barista, only on account of them being the only barista he’d ever chatted with about anything other than ‘I’ll have, uh...’ or ‘Can you put ice on my hot chocolate so it’s just a chocolate drink or are you required to sell it to me hot?’ 

Today, he was back just like any regular Tuesday, already craving for a blueberry scone and a glass of warm milk. "Yes, please,” he said, smiling. He reached for his wallet to pay them the amount he already had memorized in his head, when they spoke again. “Um... I’m not sure I’m following you. What do krakens and hockey players have in common?”

“Okay, I can see where you’re coming from. but all I’m saying is that Reese’s shapes are definitely better than regular Reese’s simply based on the peanut butter to chocolate ratio. I don’t really see how you could argue with that.” 

"Yes, but that’s a fallacy— not every shape has more peanut butter or has more chocolate. I’m just asking you to be more specific. What shape?” Maybe he could be spending his afternoon more productively than arguing about chocolates with Isaac, but they’ve fallen into this pit and haven’t been able to get out for thirty minutes.

“How do you fucking work this thing?” Jude fumbled with the speaker in his hands, sitting on the bench outside the clinic he worked at. He felt around for the on switch, flipping it to hear the loud screeching of the speakerphone adjusting. He played with the volume before he cleared his throat, hearing someone walking up to his left. He couldn’t help but be an asshole while trying to do some kind of good cause, so he turned directly towards the person who had walked up and shouted at them through the loudspeaker, “Adopt an animal!”

River winced, bringing his hand up to cover the ear closest to the megaphone. “Why!” he asked, not about adopting an animal (lord knows it might take him a few dozen more visits before he’d make up his mind) but about how loud he was being. Maybe that was the result of someone who’d been deprived of his sense of his sight, it meant everything had to be twice as loud. “No one’s gonna come here if you keep yelling at them, Jude.”

“No, no, no. I am not bored.” Fiona tried to stop herself from yawning again. “Please continue.” Although her face was telling the opposite. “I pulled an all-nighter. Clearly, a bad idea as you can see.”

River was going on and on about this strange paragraph he encountered in one of the books he borrowed from the library for his research, how it contradicted another paragraph he read in another book, when he saw Fiona’s mouth opening wide in a yawn that she tried to stifle. Now, he was no expert, but from his experience, that could either be that she was sleepy or she was bored. Or both. “Well... why? You know it’s fundamental for the human adult to get at least seven hours of sleep. A shortage will affect the cells and hormones in your body. Maybe that’s why you’re so small.”

@rivergris

“Hey, uh — do you work here?” He questioned after roaming through the aisles of the record shop, realizing how long it had been since his last visit. Normally, he could just convince Vic to bring him a surprise record, usually not being disappointed in the choice. Drawing his eyes back to the other, he scrunched his nose at the obvious answer, “Shit, that was stupid. Can we just pretend I didn’t ask that?”

He didn’t usually talk to the customers. It was always Vic who got that covered for him. However, his coworker was currently not in the for the day, which made River anxious and had even considered calling in sick just so he wouldn’t have to be left alone. But that would’ve been largely irresponsible of him and he prided himself in always telling the truth. Most of the customers that came in so far barely talked to him, anyway; they’d just grab a record, bring it to the counter, pay for it, and then leave. He could close the store with just this routine, until this brunette male that has been roaming between the aisles for several minutes now broke the silence between them, his voice unmistakably speaking to him over the music. He barely heard him the first time, though, until the second time around. “Didn’t ask what?” he said, though not to adhere to his request of pretending not hear whatever it was he did say. “Are you having trouble looking for something?” he asked, bringing his eyes back to the little equation he was scribbling on the back of some receipt.