all jobs is bad

[mossbuds]

Who: Lars and whoever! OPENNN
What: Rampant mundanity.
Where: Around the carnival; rides and food court specifically; then his own trailer!
When: Mid day, dusk, and early evening
Warnings: Lars's potty mouth.

---

on shift; mid day
Lars leans back against the box that operates the ride he's stationed at—carefully, so as to not accidentally bump any knobs or whatever, but enough to take some pressure off his feet. He stares dully into the distance, feeling like his brain is going numb. And despite that, he still manages to look surly, his brows knit together.

This is only his second day on this job, as he'd racked up a handsome debt—one be was tempted to just bail on, because this carnival was clearly weird, sketchy supernatural bullshit. But it was clearly more fucked than he'd originally anticipated, so Lars was not eager to find out what would happen to him if he he didn't repay the debt (plus, the thought of home was too humiliating right now). He'd probably be cursed, he decided. People were freaky around this place—especially the other carnival workers, which he hadn't put a lot of thought into. Until today, really, during this long lull.

Groaning, Lars rolls his head wayyy back, his chin facing the sky as his posture melts backwards against the console, one of his feet slipping forward as he sinks—oblivious to any recent approachers, absorbed as he is in his own angst. Why did all this lame spooky crap always happen to him?

after work; dusk
Somehow, this job was even more boring than what he did at home. Even if he and his coworker in Beach City weren't always super talkative, even just having some company made it a little more bearable... Of course, sometimes they would flirt and goof off, which was also super helpful. Here, he couldn't even get any reception on his phone to pass the time—he would probably have to resort to reading a book like some kinda friggin' uncivilized caveman. Anyway, the drole of it all had Lars totally beat. He sits, hunched over one of the tables in the food court or the carnival, barely able to tuck his knees under it. He apathetically eats whatever garbage he'd purchased.

Once finished, he balls up the foil and greasy paper and tossed it blindly over his shoulder. This, of course, unfortunately bops your character on the head. Wrong place, wrong time.

at "home"; evening - closed to Kadin
With needlessly dramatic flourish, Lars throws open the door to their trailer. "Ugh!!"

Somewhat clumsily, Lars attempts to heel off his right hi-top sneaker. He stumbles, growls, and gains balance by flattening his palm against the wall near the door. "This place sucks!! Watchin' paint dry would be funner than takin' tickets, watchin' all those weirdos waddlin' around..."

Lars honestly doesn't even know if Kadin is home, when he enters; the yelling just kind of happens immediately. A natural reflex.

Comments

after work

[faking]

Alois Trancy can be a pretty gracious person. Most people may not think to agree, but most people are only introduced to the choppy tides of his bad moods. Okay, it's true that Alois is often disagreeable, but in some unassuming ways, he's known to be magnanimous.

To a certain point, at least. But luckily for Lars, that point is here and now. Alois pats the spot on his head where the wrapping had caught him, making sure there aren't any terrible grease spots on his pretty blond hair. It's because he's left unmarred that he's even capable of being magnanimous... That is to say, he doesn't freak out. He doesn't openly lose his temper, either, just simmers gently, the roiling deep instead of a surface-level storm.

"Not a bad choice for dinner," he says, slightly saccharine. He is dressed in a pair of brown shorts, maybe a tad too short, and deep emerald green stockings. His shirt is a button-up in brown and white flannel. How he's dressed is only important because it makes him seem like he feels at home; if not for the exhaustion in his face and the sharp edge of his second-guessing smile, he'd look pleasant and glad. But he continues, prodding at Lars' wad of paper with the toe of his boot, "Not bad, but if you throw trash at me again, I'll hit you in the mouth."

He's still smiling and genial, at least.

[mossbuds]

Lars pauses. As Alois initially speaks, and Lars turns to face him, he squints at the guy dubiously—he figures by his attire, actually, that Alois must be a performer. It's clear that Lars is sizing him up, because he rudely doesn't quite make eye contact—until the gentle threat.

Lars scoffs. "No offense, buddy," he says around his final mouthful of food, thumbing some crumbs from the corner of his mouth. "but ya don't exactly strike me as the most threatening freak under this wacky circus tent. Besides, I didn't even hit you on purpose. Ain't like I have pretty boy ESP," he goes on to explain, waving his fingers to indicate the vibe of supernatural nonsense as he rolls his eyes. "Just waitin' around for some lil twink to strut behind me, ripe for gettin' hit with the gentlest hate crime of all time."

[faking]

During many catty conversations—and believe me, Alois has a lot of them—there's a marked progression of anger which plays out across Alois' face: a furrow of eyebrows, a wrinkling of the nose, and the sour, teeth-grinding twist of his foul mouth. At a time like that, he glares through his eyelashes and dimples his angry-pink cheeks with a sneer. Alois is really good at conveying when he's pissed, and how pissed he is.

In a twist, though, that's not what happens here. Rather than flaring up into eye-glinting fury, Alois is looking more incredulous by the second. The play of his face is more genuine than most times, the creasing confusion of a pure-hearted boy. He's stopped trying to be a haughty adult, and instead acts his age in his ignorance.

Basically, he doesn't know what the word "twink" means. "ESP" gets only a passing understanding; the term wasn't even coined until recently, where he's from. So most of what Lars says and alludes to doesn't make sense to Alois, and oh, man, Alois hates people who don't make sense to him.

"I'm not the most threatening," he says, for once without bravado; right now he's just genuinely irritated, nothing for show. He knows he isn't as scary as some of the other folks here—his own marked faerie changes amount to some pretty gemstones on his skin (stereotypical?), fae-like ears, and some glowy spots here and there—but most of the time, he doesn't want to be scary. He wants to be very pretty, except when someone's pissed him off.

He exhales. "But a fist is a fist. Other than that, I've no earthly idea what you're bloody on about."

thanks, mobile, for eating half my post

[mossbuds]

"What I'm sayin' is," Lars implores, turning to face Alois, his elbows resting on the table behind him. Lars crosses his legs. "it was an accident, so don't get your fancy knickers in such a damn twist. Bet your punches feel like kitten kisses, anyway. How old are you, even? Six?"

It hardly surprises him that no one around her looks normal—and it does well to concern Lars. But as far as circus freaks go, it's true that Alois is a relief to his eyes. If becoming an increasingly irritating flounce. But a good first impression is rare with Lars, anyway—mutually speaking, worth noting, and most people were terrible besides.

mobile's desperate attempts to stop this dumpster fire before it starts

[faking]

"I'm fifteen," is Alois' frigid but flat-falling insistence, because he's pretty sure he might be, by now, and if he's not, he will be soon. (He hasn't been fervent about keeping track of the time while here with the Carnival, if only because he's too flighty to commit to it.) At any rate, he can't hide how defensive the question makes him feel. "And I beg you reconsider your assumptions."

But regardless of whatever violent intentions he claims he'll entertain, Alois has his arms folded, no springing stance in his posture. He just grinds the toe of his boot against the ground and watches the miniature flare of dust, sullen. Then he flicks his eyes back up to Lars, a little too tired to properly be a scowl. "Anyway, just keep it in mind. You mustn't be careless, especially since I'm not the most intimidating person around here. It's no good to get into a tussle, either." That, at least, is partially a reminder to himself. He shouldn't be getting into fights because the master of a lordship isn't supposed to do stuff like that, and also because the Ringmaster is scary as fuck. (Alois was suspicious of faerie nonsense from the start, even before coming to the Carnival, so the Ringmaster's nature cows him, frankly.)

it's too late, mobile. it's too late......

[mossbuds]

"Yeah?" Lars inquires suspiciously. He's reckless, spoiled and has a bad attitude, and could probably use an ass kicking to learn him some manners. However, it makes for an oblivious type of shithead; Lars isn't as concerned as he should be by Alois's warning. He's more curious by his lattermost comment. "Why's that? Some kinda corporal punishment?"

Lars actually looks mildly concerned. MAYBE IT'S CURSES AND THEN HE'LL BE A FREAK

[faking]

Reckless... spoiled... bad attitude........

Unfortunately, Alois fulfills all of these qualities as well, which makes this a two-for-one shithead bonanza. He turns his head a little, like he's distracted by someone off in the distance, but then his eyes—just his eyes—slip back to Lars. His eyelids are a bit low, and his eyebrows are drawn in slightly.

Maybe it's stupid to be more concerned about curses than having the snot beat out of you, but frankly Alois is in Lars' camp, at least in this. Alois purses his lips, exhaling through his nose. "I'm just saying, I wouldn't want to slight her. I mean, look at all of us already."

after work

[nowingsyet]

NONA1 doesn't necessarily eat like a normal human would. She goes to the repairman every week to collect her supply of oil to consume every week. She still likes going to the food court. It's nice to have company around to ask things to and talk to. There's still so much to know and see and experience....

As dinner is being finished, as she walks back to her trailer a balled up piece of paper is thrown at her head. Knowing nothing, she picks it up and walks to Lars.

Excuse me, but I believe you dropped this.

[mossbuds]

Lars jumps when NONA1 approaches him, or more specifically, when she speaks. He turns, expecting some kind of random wacky shit like a cleaning droid (because seriously, nothing could be surprising or make any less sense at this point), and his expression falters when he finds instead the visage of a disturbingly beautiful girl.

"Uh," he says stupidly, then sort of meekly—and quickly—plucks the trash from her hand, as if she might bite. "Yeah, that was—on purpose." He just drops it onto the bench with a soft, papery thud, where it rolls onto the ground. His fingers are spread and splayed in place. "I-it's, you know, it's just trash."

just like u lars

[nowingsyet]

Meanwhile NONA1 is clueless to the nervousness of the young man, and she tilts her head at this. So it was mistake. It's understandable. It's a bit unsightly to look at though. My people believe in treating nature with reverence.

[mossbuds]

Lars smiles uncomfortably—perhaps sarcastically, hiking up his shoulders. "Good for them," he responds unsurely. "I personally don't really give a shit about what my people believe."

wow yes Lars ur so wise

[nowingsyet]

Are you in disagreement with your people? The people that created me was... they thought, I wasn't natural. Therefore I had no place. Bless her metal heart...

Wild Boss Appears! Mid Day

[dorkypantsuit]

"Hey, new guy, don't slouch on the job!"

Where did that voice come from? The sky apparently, since that's where the Psionic is flying right now. He's glowing the usual purple, but that all stops once he lands on the ground.

damn. lars isnt used to havin actual bosses around

[mossbuds]

Lars jolts with a loud yelp, almost losing his footing—he scrambles, using the console to right himself as he gets fully onto his feet. He scowls and scoffs in the direction of his superior indignantly, and wraps a hand around one of the levers of the console's handle.

"The hell am I supposed to do? Polish knobs?" Lars, unfortunately, doesn't realize that passing innuendo. Lost opportunity. "It's slow!"

[dorkypantsuit]

"You gotta sell it when it's slow, make people want to come take a ride on it." he explains, still smiling even as he berates the new employee. In his mind it's less berating though, and more like mentoring. He's just being helpful, obviously!

"But I guess you could clean the consoles if your feeling intimidated."

[mossbuds]

"I ain't feelin' intimidated!" Lars snaps defensively. With an impatient thrust forward with his arm, Lars gestures to their immediate surroundings. And, also, he leans back a little on the console—clearly, perhaps, based on his behavior and posture, a little too comfortable. "And look, barely anyone's around. What am I supposed to say, anyway?"

Lars straightens up, cupping the shell of his hand near his mouth. "Step right up!! If you're lucky, you won't break anything, incur a massive debt, and maybe get cursed or somethin'!"

Thankfully, he isn't actually shouting that...

[dorkypantsuit]

The Psionic's joking grin turns suddenly stern at the joke. He looks turns his head to the side, slowly scanning the crowd as though nervous about who could be watching.

"I understand you're angry, but shouting things like that can get you in a lot of trouble and I would strongly advise against it."

[mossbuds]

Lars scoffs at the drama of their scene, simultaneously crossing one twiggy leg over the other as he folds his arms across his chest. He glowers, narrowing his eyes. "Who's shoutin'? Chill out, man, I'm not gonna actually do anything like that." But he knows he still probably won't be a convincing sales person—maybe if he's sarcastic enough, it'll seem sincere. This is the greatest ride ever! You won't hate it at all! You also totally won't feel ripped off! ... Okay, nah.

[dorkypantsuit]

Psiioniic's eyes narrow as he looks the boy over.

"What's your name?" he asks suddenly, tone still serious, uncharacteristically so.

after work

[drrdrrdrr]

Amethyst sits up and turns around when the balled up trash hits the back of her head. She turns around, and a slow grin spreads across her face as she scoops up a handful of chili off her own plate.

"You lookin' to start something?" she crows – and doesn't wait for a response before she hurls that handful it at Lars.

[mossbuds]

Lars wasn't trying to start anything, as he's just obliviously eating, so by the time he processes Amethyst's words, well—surprised doesn't... wholly cover his reaction when the lukewarm, gritty slap of chilli gets the bottom half of the back of his head and the upper half of the top of his neck.

There's a long, but compact stream of explicit curses as Lars jumps up, jostling the table he'd had his knees stuffed underneath. He turns to face Amethyst, looking furious—then surprised; taken aback—then furious again.

Great. The hot one, who also incidentally fucking destroys everything. Well, they all did, but especially the purple one. "You!! Ugh!!" He winces, wiping chilli off his neck and shaking off his hand, clumsily reaching for a napkin afterwards. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

[drrdrrdrr]

Amethyst blinks, wiping her hand off on... her stomach? On her tongue. On the tongue coming out of her stomach. It's just licking up the chili off her hand. Gross.

"Whoah, wait – donut guy? The guy from the donut store? When did you get here?"

[mossbuds]

Lars is too transfixed on her gross stomach mouth to correct her with his name, his repulsion clear. He makes a little sound of disgust, but seems to move on; he turns to face her.

"Like, two days ago," he says with an eye roll. "I broke one of their dumb games so I gotta be their slave for a minute or somethin'. When did you get here?"

Lars is still idly wiping off the back of his neck, shaking off his hand each time; he wipes his hands off on some of the napkins he'd grabbed earlier, and then gives his head and neck the same treatment.

[drrdrrdrr]

"Uuuhh, like a couple years ago I guess." She shrugs -- after a moment she takes pity and passes him another paper towel. It's kind of grubby, but it's the thought that counts, right? "Man, Steven's gonna be psyched to see you. What's RM got you doing?"

[mossbuds]

Lars isn't a perfectly cleanly boy, so he doesn't really object to the sort-of dirty paper towel. So he goes ahead and starts to wipe off the remnants of the chili with that, then... goes ahead and tosses it on the floor with his other trash. What a good Samaritan.

"Eh, just takin' tickets for rides. Gotta make the rides seem sexy or whatever."

He perks up, eyes widening a little. He looks at Amethyst, blinking.

"Steven's here?"