#bdrpal

@alzcomicbarn

Louie needed a job. Well, he needed money really, and while he’d collected a decent amount of money via bribes from his brothers and the occasional birthday or holiday cash, he still wanted more. He wanted to become the successful businessman he knew he could be. And that meant finding himself a job and starting to save something up.

He’d looked around a bunch of places, but a lot of them seemed like they’d be too much work. There was a delicate balance of laziness and wanting money, and Louie was sure that he’d find the place that was just right. It only took a couple day’s, but Al’s comic book store would be perfect!

So he marched on into the store, head held high and a determination that he rarely had to actually do something productive. Some might say it was historic. As he stepped into the store, he was briefly sidetracked by some of the comics he might actually want to read. Tempting, but not today. Today he’d get a job.

“Hey Mister Al? I’m here about a job. And before you say anything, you should know that I’m obviously the best choice because I actually like comics and stuff.”

@alzcomicbarn

There was an edible arrangement on Lady’s desk when she walked into the office after grabbing some food to eat from Hatter’s for lunch. 

She was very glad that Apollo had gone off with that weird sister of his for lunch and wasn’t back yet. He would laugh at her. Or shake his head and tsk-tsk about how she was “leading Al on.” 

For the record: she wasn’t! Al had texted her a few times. Lady had not texted back. In the vernacular, she was ghosting him. Which was much better than telling him she wasn’t interested. Lady didn’t think, physically, that that was something she would be able to do. 

So, she stared and stared at the edible arrangement.

Picked off a grape.

It was really good.

The card was cute too. He’d made some pun that she didn’t understand, but he’d obviously put some thought into it. 

How was she supposed to tell him she wasn’t interested?! He was sweet. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings!!

So, reluctantly, she pulled out her phone.

@alzcomicbarn

After Cruella, Al was his next target. A bit harder to talk to, since video games and comic books were so far out of Phoebus’ comfort zone. The Order did not believe in such technological pastimes, especially for young men and boys. They should be outside, playing at swords, not playing at pretend. It was for girls to day dream and read. 

Of course, Phoebus had read avidly as a child. He still did. 

It was never graphic novels. 

Also, Phoebus could not flirt with Al. Which would honestly just make everything much, much easier. 

Phoebus was not deterred for long. With Christmas coming up, it was a perfect time to go under the guise of looking for a gift for his nephew, which, he did have. Even if his nephew would be getting a beautifully crafted leather sheath for his dagger from Uncle Phoebus this year. A gift befitting a newly thirteen-year-old boy. Not a video game, but he could pretend.

Strolling into the store, he spotted the man of the hour right away. “Excuse me,” he said, politely, “I was wondering if you’d be able to help me out? My nephew wants new video games for Christmas and I’m hopeless at this kind of thing. He’s thirteen, likes...action...y...stuff...” 

@alzcomicbarn

“The first lesson of economics is scarcity: there is never enough of anything to fully satisfy all those who want it. The first lesson of politics is to disregard the first lesson of economics.” - Thomas Sowell.

Simba had a problem.

That problem was the rent of the shoppes on Main Street. See, Main Street was aptly named, because before Swynlake had grown and grown and grown, it was the only street in town. Everything else had been farmland and estates. Once the university went in during the late 1800s, the town expanded towards the university. It wasn’t until the middle 1900s that the Woods was commissioned and built, a few shops springing up along the road on the way there and out towards the lake. 

Argo, InterPride aka Simba’s family, owned all the buildings on Main Street, with the exception of the ones that had been donated to the town--Town Hall, the hospital, sheriff and fire departments. 

Now that InterPride was transitioning into a nonprofit, the rent of those buildings were going to be a huge cashcrop for InterPride’s income. Which meant--it was possible in the future that someone could try to take advantage of that fact and jack up the rent. Which was what Simba was going to try and avoid. 

Which meant that he needed a small business owner to be his personal adviser to this whole deal he’d be writing into the board of trustees contract. He had considered Belle at first, but was worried that that would be seen as showing favoritism towards another board member, involving their significant other. Mickey crossed his mind too, but he didn’t technically own a business, let alone one that InterPride had control over. 

In an interest of extending an olive branch, Simba had requested a meeting with Al. It was, after all, part of his platform. And, while Simba disliked Al for that rhetoric--his slander had not been near as bad as Hatter’s last year, and, even moreso, people liked him. Which was obvious by the fact he’d been voted onto the Board. So, here Simba was, standing up as Celia let Al into the office, smiling at him and stepping around his desk to shake his hand.

@alzcomicbarn

Lady had a stack of old newspapers that she was bringing to Fairy Godmother down on the first floor because she had some sort of collage type thing she wanted to do for some fundraiser or another. (The woman talked so fast that sometimes even Lady, belle of the South, couldn’t understand her motormouth.)

Nevertheless! She was happy to help. Which meant carrying a stack of newspapers so tall she could barely see over them, calling for an elevator ride.

The doors dinged open and Lady only took a few steps outside of it, rounding the corner to head down the hall when--

SLAM!

Papers everywhere!

“Oh my goodness gracious, I am so sorry ‘bout all this!” 

@alzcomicbarn

The incident with the strangely powerful man had unsettled Shego. It had brought her back home again and again. It terrified her, the way that this man seemed to share an ability with her brother. He shared it, and apparently, he used it to do the same harm that her brother had. It made her sick. It terrified her, and she wasn’t going to allow some terror to roam the streets of the town unhindered. 

Apologies weren’t good enough for her. Her collarbone still ached. It was still healing, and jostling it still gave her a fresh wave of pain. Her arm was in a sling still, but she needed to reach out. Someone had to know what had happened to her. But she couldn’t go to the cops. The cops....they were a risk. They were always a risk for Shego. And they weren’t one she wanted to take when she was the one who was injured.

So instead, she made her way to Al’s comic shop, despite her extreme disinterest for the place. Well, it was the most likely to have the guy in it, and she didn’t want to have to scour the entire town for him instead. Her hair was kept loose, as the effort to tie her hair one handed was just irritating. Everything she wore was easy to put on, which meant...well. Shego was dressed in a green tank top and black sweatpants. a coat was slung over one shoulder, the other went uncovered. It was nowhere close to the way she had dressed for their dinner date. But now wasn’t the time to fuss on seducing him. She needed his help.

Shego stepped into the comic shop, barely glancing at the items on display, moving further until...”ah there you are. Al, do you have some time to spare? I need to ask you for a favor.”

The crisp air wrapped around Vitani’s body, her skin prickling against the sudden chill. She was stumbling down the street toward... Honestly she wasn’t quite sure. After “nights on the town” Vi liked to just wander around the streets to sober up. That was probably how she had ended up in the woods that one time. She’d always been amazed at her ability to maneuver her alcohol-ridden body around in heels, but when she was done trying to catch flies in her trap the blasted things typically ended up in her hands.