#diego 001

Where: Masquerade Ball

When: NYE

The last year had been rewarding both in his personal life as well as his occupation. He had ended the year off as an engaged man, and was throwing his hat into the ring for District Attorney. So he had plenty of reasons to celebrate, even if that meant with those he didn't necessarily know so well. "Cheers," Leo replied as he lifted his glass before taking a sip of his drink. "Got any resolutions for the year?" He asked, his hands surrounding the glass containing a cold beverage.

The Flea Market's always a wild ride, though the looming project coming with the full moon next week has her a little on edge. Just that, and then it's free and clear, an escape from this city, even if only temporary, has her excited. An escape with her girlfriend? Well.

Still, Morgan's mix is only going to get them so far, and while she'd suggested the Flea Market because of the vinyls - something Diego had been looking for - she's thumbing through the CDs herself. Already she has a small stack growing in her hand; Cat Power's Wanderer, Secondhand Serenade's A Twist In my Story, and a scuffed up copy of When the World Comes Down with a cracked cover along with a few things for Aria; Breaking Bejamin and Linkin Park; things she'd mentioned liking before everything.

"Finding anything?" She asks, looking up to her compatriot. They'd mostly been quiet, largely only offering the occasional blurb of conversation as they browsed. It's the kind of hanging out she's built for, that she doesn't mind. "What was it you were looking for?"

Briar sits, cross-legged, across from the counter, eyeballing the boy behind the sales counter with a discerning eye as she regales Diego with stories of the shift she's just ended. "T'was a passing boring evening, nothing more than usual; much talk of this great big party coming up, though what that all means I do not know or care."

Then, with aplomb, she stuffs taco, halfway into her mouth, and takes it off as if she's not eaten anything in months. Truth be told, she's just riding a wave of mellow energy left over from one of dear Chamomile's famous favors. What better way to follow magical medicine than with magical food? "And what of it here? Tell me of the fussocks, I do love to hear a good scratching."

WHERE: Rocky Ridge Hardware, Countryside of Merrock.

WHEN: Sunday, May 22, 2022.

So far, so good. That was what Cage told himself when he stood back to look at the pollinator garden that he and Colton had been working on since the Flower Festival began. There were already bee and bird sightings, and he had been lucky enough to see a hummingbird come in and land on one of the bushes, which had really brought some excitement to his day. But now the brilliant idea had come to mind to build a couple of birdhouses nearby, and while he had the wood... he needed a few screws and hinges that he just didn't have laying around in the garage. Surprisingly. Besides, he could always pick up some birdseed while there.

Which is where he was right at that moment, a basket full of screws and a few other odds and ends that he had picked up -- stuff he knew he would use at some point, anyway -- and the other rubbing his knuckles through stubble, looking over the option for birdseed. "Pardon my reach," he murmured to the person next to him, reaching up to the top shelf to pull down a bag and reading it over, nodding to himself, "they make so many varieties of this stuff, don't they?" he asked, half to himself, half to the person nearby.

She'd finally started to leave her apartment building for more than just the mail. Or a (slow) walk around the block. She'd spent the past two weeks traipsing around town, familiarizing herself with all the local spots, actually buying her own groceries instead of getting them delivered. And it was exhausting. Hopeful, in a weird way, but still exhausting. Neela needed a rest day. Time for her broken body to recover. The fibro fatigue felt worse than a hangover, and it usually took several days of nothingness to get her back to her baseline level of functioning. Hah. "Functioning."

She stayed in bed for as long as possible before Greg, her French Bulldog puppy (her Thanksgiving present to herself!) stirred and needed to be let out to be relieved. Too bone-tired to change out of her pajamas—a ratty old shirt and a pair of bright pink pants with cartoon lemons on them—Neela stood outside of her apartment building with little to no shame about it. Once Greg had done his business, and her back had cracked while bending to clean up his mess, Neela led the puppy on his leash back inside the apartment complex. She took the elevator up to her floor, and was greeted by the sight of Diego, one of her neighbors, upon the doors opening. Her cheeks flushed brighter than her pajamas, suddenly (finally) self-aware of her attire. Not that it really mattered too much; Diego had only ever seen her as a complete and utter mess. Crying because of Izzy, or hearing them fight through thin apartment walls. Neela's hair a matted mess, in the same clothes as yesterday during her self-imposed isolation, when he'd catch her rifling through her mail in the lobby. Her looking so disheveled probably wasn't anything new for him, huh?

Neela tried to swallow the feeling of embarrassment and waved hello to him, Greg's leash twisted around her wrist. "Hey, how are you?" She asked, finding her voice. Smiling. He had a stack of fliers in his hand—the sight of the rainbow flag quickly captured her attention. "What d'you got there?" Neela angled her chin in the direction of his project, curiosity replacing her chagrin. Better to talk about that, or Diego in general, than the state of herself or her outfit.

Where: Diego's place

When: June 2024

After meeting Diego not long ago after attending something for Devrim with Hazal. Archie seemed to like Diego, thinking he was a cool dude, and plus he knew hot work on cars. Archie thought it was always good to know someone who knew about cars in case something came up with his. After hearing Diego was fixing up his house, Archie offered some help. Bringing a six pack of beer, he couldn't just show up empty handed. "What's up dude?" He asked and gave him a nod, then holding up the beer. "Figured if the house thing doesn't work out, at least we can shoot the shit and enjoy the day." @diegoocastro

They'd said the material would be ready to go. Ready to go. She'd read the email again to make sure she was right. She did tend to doubt herself but no, black on white with blue light on top, there is was. Yet, it wasn't. And believe it or not, it is quite hard to make brain imagery and mapping without the proper material. Like she couldn't do the job they were paying her for. Not properly. Of course, the research was barely starting since she arrived only a few weeks ago, but it was still needed. "Are you sure you can't do anything about that?" She ask, hand on an older laptop that what she'd have liked. The answer was negative. She sighed and packed up her stuff. "Ready to go my ass... " She said when she left the store.