Post by Robin on Oct 13, 2015 13:13:30 GMT -5
there are more things in heaven and earth, horatio,
C as had a skip in his step. How could he not, after returning to his apartment (still whitewashed and empty, who would’ve thought a lack of money could do that to a place) and finding a letter, slid through the slot in his door. It contained a single sheet of paper with an official-looking logo at the top and a signature at the bottom. “Congratulations, Cassius! Your money and boredom problems have been solved! No longer shall you roam the streets, looking in vain for something to do other than find and fill out job applications. Starting tomorrow, you are a journalist!” He was paraphrasing, but still. When they had called him earlier, asking him for an interview, he had been beside himself. Out of all the jobs he had wanted and applied for, this was easily in his top three. Apparently they’d really liked his sample essay on the problems the potholes caused by pokemon battles on the way to the pokepark were causing for commuters. “Public works never get the attention - or funding - they need,” the kind lady with short, straight hair and peach perfume interviewing him had said. “It’s always so and so beats so and so else or something about this discolored gyarados I’m not even convinced exists. What we need isn’t the latest thrill but community, like the rooftop berry farms, or that fancy tea shop with the delicious oolong tea.” Cas, of course, nodded happily along with his interviewer, whom he had apparently set off on a topic she’d been holding inside for a while now. He took it this newspaper wasn’t the most formal of places. But, at last, his search had come to an end and today he was going to treat himself. He’d managed to pinpoint the location of this tea shop the kind lady had spoke of. The air of the shop smelled like all good tea shops. Also like all good tea shops, The prices listed on the board struck Cas hard in the gut. No, today he was treating himself. It would be fine to spend… 400£ (was that the cheapest one?) on a single cup of tea. Cas approached the counter. The smell only got stronger, deeper, as he neared the place the tea was made. Wrestling with his still unwilling wallet, Cas pulled out 400£ to set on the counter. “Pumpkin Spice... Brulee?” Cas asked of the man at the register, squinting at the menu. |  |
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| ooc: None! | |
| Kaneki | |
than are dreamt of in your philosophy