Dirty laundry

[cutenonny]

the LAUNDROMAT

Perhaps you live in a dorm or an apartment that hasn't seen renovations since the eighties. Maybe your luck has really dried up and your washing machine at home broke the night before a job interview and you haven't done a load of laundry in two weeks. Whatever your story is you've ended up at the local 24-hour laundromat. It could be creeping in on midnight or three in the morning. Either way, the place is a dead zone. Leaving you floating in a liminal space where reality has been stripped down to the sounds of clattering quarters and the continuous thrum of the machines under the buzz of neon lights. This would be a horrible time to bump into someone you know, or worse - a complete stranger while you're staring into the middle distance in nothing but your American flag boxers reading a paperback.

HOW TO PLAY:

+ Comment with your character, preferences, etc.

+ Leave the comment blank or be daring and write a top-level starter

+ Comment to others and play out all those awkward run-ins or strange chance meetings

Comments

[staring_problem]

He shook his head at the mention of eating souls, nose wrinkling a little, "Nah, not enough nutritional value in souls, definitely not worth the effort."

He just leaned back against the edge of the table, not bothering to sit on it himself, nodding at the book, "That's a good one, too. Enough of a story to keep you entertained, but not so complicated that you'll forget what you're doing." A half-amused little scoff, "And not so dense you get confused or bored and give up on it." He shook his head, "Made the mistake of bringing the Canterbury Tales once, not annotated. That was a 'sit and stare at the wall' trip."

[coulddowithoutdreams]

"I am fairly sure no one eats souls for nutrition, but you do make a good point." She said as if this were fact, and in fact, it might BE fact. Funny that.

Resting her hands on the edge of the table, she leaned there, a moment, listening to him as she stretched her back. Her hand came to rub along her upper thigh as if to work a kink or sore out. She had a soft hum in her voice as she spoke. "Chaucer, hmm? Aye, my wee English heart. That is a classic, but even I don't want to wade through the original non annotated works. The key to reading his work? Read every letter. Silent letters meant nothing back then." She paused, then a smile spread just barely visible on her lips. "It is fun when you get the blokes at the pub to try to quote it through a drunken state."

[staring_problem]

He snorted a laugh, "How did you know that's how I got interested in it?" A little shrug, "Couple of the guys I served with would trade off lines when they were drunk enough." A head shake, "I'm actually surprised they only got told off for it once."

Though it was probably because it wasn't always Chaucer that Dugan and Falsworth -with occasional interruptions by Dernier and Jones- would get drunk enough to recite. He'd even questioned Dum-Dum about it once, how he knew Chaucer because he didn't seem the type. He didn't remember the answer, only that it had been good-natured annoyance, which was generally the best to hope for with Dugan.