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"If it's the kissing booth, I'd probably want my money back if I paid anything more than a nickel," he retorted in that easy, dry way he had, lifting the can passed over in a gesture of gratitude for the receipt of it. Cranberry added slightly more bitter notes to the apple cider that he appreciated. It wasn't a drink that he'd take consciously if given other options--he really did prefer the IPA the bar carried, but it wasn't as if there were any convenient cans of that hanging around. He'd make do. Cracking it open, he took a sip, a little relieved from the drier air of the fall breeze that had been drying out his lungs all evening. "Keep this one. It'll be popular with the husbands that want to drink something tolerable that their wives will steal half of anyway," he noted, before he leaned a slender hip against the bar stand, testing the sturdiness of the construction before he focused his gaze on Luis once more. "Also, that's the first time I think I've ever heard, and ever will hear, our Town Hall be called 'fancy.' And I've already managed to mail off most of my important registry documents for records. Until Monday, I'm a free man." Not that meant that either of them believed he'd actually stop working the minute he made it back to his desk at home.

Luis couldn’t help but marvel at just how similar The Gates resident’s were , when it all came down to it. The pack was falling apart at the seams, dead witches were turning up in the bay and they’d all, by some silent agreement, decided to pretend that nothing was wrong.

Of course, he was doing his part to contribute to the effort; had dragged himself and the bartender that had lost the furious rounds of rock-paper-scissors the night before to town square at the crack of dawn (noon) to get the Deadman’s Booth set up. Now, with a lull in the crowd he’d finally found time to scroll through the pictures they’d taken that morning, searching for the perfect balance of good lighting and subjects that didn’t look semi-feral.

So far, he hadn’t succeeded.

“Depends…Is it the kissing booth or the lemonade stand that has you racing for your wallet? You could probably get at least one of those outta me for free if you asked nicely.” Laughing, he was already setting his phone aside to dig through the cooler housing most of their stock, Na’im’s familiar footfalls and the scent of his cologne picked from the crowd seconds before he’d appeared in the flesh. He smirked as he slide a can of cranberry flavored apple cider across the counter, sweeping an assessing gaze over his friend. That he thought the other man was incredibly overdressed went without saying. 

“Didn’t think they allowed you out of that fancy cage of yours this early. Do they know you’ve made a break for it?”

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His hands remained on her only for long enough for him to make sure that she was steadied, and not a second longer. It may have been fast enough for some to take it offensively for how quickly he wanted to stop touching someone if it weren't for the fact that he hadn't done so to keep her from a tumble, though he did leave his fingers a second longer on her bag to tilt it further upright, too, making sure that nothing spilled from the contents within. "I don't know about hero," Na'im answered, the corners of his lips quirking. "Maybe I'm just really bad at first aid, and this was the better alternative to letting you fall?" It's a wise-ass enough joke, but not one that seemed to be delivered with any genuine malice. "They've been spraying down the sidewalks a little more to keep them cleaner for the stalls for the Festival. Want me to walk with you so there's no more incidental tumbles? I'm heading as far as the coffee shop."

Wide eyes peered over the stack of baked goods Irina was carrying, silently cursing herself for failing to pack them better, huffing about the delivery person she paid decided to no call, no show on a day she needed them most. Never mind her anger she needed to make it to the harvest festival in time to at least show her face, play her part as dutiful daughter, active member of her community. Kicking the door open with her foot, Irina shimmied her way into the hall, eyes darting over the person who couldn't be bothered to hold the door, making a mental note of their face before resuming her cumbersome trek to deliver her last orders for the morning. Her stack shrank into something more easily managed as she left box after box with their buyer. A small business card reminding the patrons of the inn's lunch being open to all, not just the guests who had a room. The lighter the load the more improved her mood, so long as she didn't linger on the impending reality of shifting from one responsibility to another.

Hands finally free Irina had time to run home and change before she was expected to meet up with her father, maybe enough time to grab a suitable bite to eat. Fantasizing about her precious few hours alone when her phone cut in shattering her fantasy. Digging into her bag Irina looked away for a moment, a moment long enough to feel as if she missed a step. The ground was suddenly pulled from under her as she felt herself falling to the unforgiving pavement. Hands out to catch herself, protect from the harsh bite of the ground when a pair of arms looped around her waist. Opening her eyes once the impact didn't occur, Irina pushed their hands away from her waist, tucking hair away from her face as she straightened her back. "Thank you," she exhaled, eyes landing on the boxes with a frown. "That could have been a nasty spill. Thankfully you were there. A regular small town hero."

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pmedica

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where: outside post office, harborview heights when: 19th, morning open starter: x/1 With his arms emptied of the packet of legal documents he'd been hoisting from his office down to the Post Office that day, Na'im found himself with a wealth of opportunities for things to do afterward. Granted, this was after he'd taken his six AM run, made his first coffee for the day, dressed, and left the house. He should have probably gotten some breakfast. If 'should have made a good decision but didn't' was a chance to change anything in his life though, he'd be arguably living much better overall--not that he'd admit that his experience currently was anything short of ideal. Drawing the fit of his long coat a little further up his shoulders, adjusting it to where it should rest on him properly, he turned his way back down the sidewalk in the direction of the coffee shop. It is not his ideal haunt to frequent; he is a man of few great pleasures, but one of them is his pickiness in how he drinks. It is no great disrespect to the owner, but he is picky enough to only stop by when he isn't ready to go back to his office or settle into home for the day. With the Harvest Festival in full swing, he wasn't inclined to do either at that moment. What he was more inclined to do was catch the sight of someone tripping over a package that had been left in one of the building's walkways on the main thoroughfare, moving just in time to circle his arm around their waist to steady them from falling to the pavement below. "Easy there," he cautioned, brows lifting. "It seems one of our delivery drivers hadn't thought to not leave that out of sight."

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"Why do you look like you've been voluntold for the kissing booth back in high school?" It had been a long time since Na'im had had the evening free to indulge in the festivities of the town, but considering the events of the Bonfire Night, he felt it was somewhat... pressing to at least show his face. The town's lack of crime had felt like something fragile that had been too easy to shatter with a murder practically at their front door. Still, seeing Luis manning what someone clearly designed to be a 'miniature' version of the other's bar was almost comical. It was enough to plant a little smirk across Na'im's features as he leaned on the corner of it, at least, and he planted his palm on the counter. "Or maybe this is a childhood lemonade stand a few decades too late?" Regardless of his idle torment, he was already reaching his free hand back to fetch his wallet from his back pocket. While he hadn't left his office with the intention of drinking, he wouldn't torment his old friend without giving him some business in the wake of this. He wasn't entirely sure if Luis had planned on doing this himself or had somehow failed to get one of his bartenders to cover the booth, after all.

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Instagram credit: chloejg

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Welcome back to The Gates’ Community Center, NA’IM RAVIV! Or should we say THE SKEPTIC? As a resident of BAYVIEW ESTATES for SIX YEARS, we are sure you need no introduction. However, we’d like to confirm some information for our community directory. You are FOURTY FOUR years old, correct? And the DISTRICT ATTORNEY at CITY HALL? Wonderful! We are so pleased to have someone who is RESOLUTE, STALWART, and WITTILY CHARMING within our community. Of course, we’ve also heard that you can be OBSTINATE, CYNICAL, and OVERLY CRITICAL… but you can’t believe everything you hear, right? Anyone who reminds people of THE FEELING OF WARM SUNLIGHT ON A FROSTY MORNING, THE SCENT OF ROASTING COFFEE BEANS, AND THE TOUCH OF INCENSED SMOKE is welcome in The Gates. Biography name: Na'im Raviv date of birth: July 27th faceclaim: Alexander Uloom species: human gender: cis male, he/him pronouns residence: Bayview Estates, previously New York City, and further previously Maplewood Meadows

"Snooping through my files, are we? Trust me when I say I'm an open book. If you wish to know something, simply ask... ask me, that is. Small-town gossip is usually worth a defamation charge in a court of law. Half of the citizens of this town swear they hear howls at the moon. Take everything with a grain of salt here; there's something in the water."

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a tag dump post