Holy Sh*tsnacks, Batman! // Early February// Open

[sploosh]

Who: Pam , the Wayne family, and you?
When: Early morning in the Wayne household / throughout the day in town
Where: The Wayne Household / Shops in town
What: Waking up in Santa Rosita and getting the lay of the land
Warnings: Warnings for Pam-typical levels of obscenity


Home Sweet Hostage Situation

The sun is streaming through the window. The birds are singing. There's the soft rumble of car engines warming up as the men of the town head out to work. It's a beautiful day in Santa Rosita..and it sounds NOTHING like the big city, so Pam can't sleep. She tosses and turns for a while, fighting the obvious discord all around her, but it's just too much.

The blond sits up in her twin bed asking "why's it so bright?" to no one in particular. That brightness gives way to the obvious problems with the location, though. This room alone is bigger than Pam's whole apartment and none of these things belong to her. Did she get hammered and pass out in a stranger's bed? No. None of her one-night-stands live anywhere this clean. Not unless it's a serial killer. She sees the photo of herself and Bruce on the nightstand between the beds. Yep...definitely a serial killer if they put in this kind of effort, but a damn handsome one. Pam grabs the lamp off the little table and carries it with her as she makes her way through the house in her nightgown, taking in all the photos and looking for her kidnapper so she can smash his very pretty brains in.
"Hello? Ridiculously good looking stalker? Anybody?"


---------------------------------------------

Making it feel like home...

Pam doesn't think of the money she has as "stolen". Bruce is her husband, after all. It's their money. Besides, she's using it for their house! She's going to make it so much better!

She's going up and down the floors and ailes of Honeybees looking for just the right items. If she's stuck in this weird out-of-date after school special, she can at least have a home she can be proud of. For now, she's trying to add some color...and some liquor. She has some tiki torches sticking awkwardly out of her buggy nearly a full rainbow of fiesta-ware.

Finally, in frustration, she just stops the next person she sees.

"Excuse me, but have you seen any liquor bars for sale? Especially something that works as with a tiki theme. I woulda thought the house would have a built in wet-bar, but no such luck...Indoor or outdoor, I'm easy."


________________________________________

Every cloud has a sugar lining

Shopping is hungry work. Work that calls for two burgers and a large chocolate shake. This place is a weird and terrible fever dream, but at least it has an old timey diner in the middle. If this milkshake isn't the best thing she's ever had, Pam is calling shenanigans on this whole thing.

She sits at her diner table all alone, but she's certainly open to company. Please just ignore the mess she's making with that burger. There is a distinct possibility that she was born in a barn.

Comments

prompt ii!

[inpersonation]

"Er- Sorry. I don't think I've seen any bar installations for sale here, ma'am..."

Noelle isn't sure how she got dropped into this conversation - she was just looking for some towels, for fuck's sake - but she knows skipping out of a conversation wouldn't fit the nice girl image she's been trying to build. And to lose it over a tiki liquor bar? Hell no.

So- Going along with this it is. "I hope you don't mind me asking, ma'am but..." She tries to think of what else to say and something so ridiculous pops into her head and she rolls with it, "Wouldn't it be better to start slow and steady? Accumulate your favorite alcohol and then decide on a theme? What if you end up wanting to switch the tiki theme for something else but can't? That's quite a commitment!"

[sploosh]

"Aww, dicks... I was really hoping to get a sort of luau thing goin." Pam sighs, but she isn't surprised if the place doesn't super promote drinking. She'll get around it somehow, but she might have to find someone handy to help her build some things.

"I get what yer sayin. I mean, I'm more of a whiskey and high-proof liqueurs gal, personally, than a rum fan... I think the theme for that is a lonely cabin in the snow or a sad gutter, though, so I'm goin with the fun, tropical option." She picks up some carved palm frond wall hangings she found and frames her face for demonstration before returning them to the cart.

[inpersonation]

Okay... Noelle needs to press a hand against her mouth to smother a snicker, the demonstration actually pretty funny. Also, someone else who appreciates a good whiskey? Nice.

"If you really want a tropical theme for your new addition, I think it's possible to buy a plain-looking bar and then making it your very own." She chances a proper look at the accumulated pile of party decorations, trying to get a sense of style that's going on here. Is it casual tiki or full-frontal tiki? "That way, you can make as tikiesque as you like. Some work but... I could help you with it if you'd like, ma'am."

[sploosh]

"Yeah...pretty sure that's what's gonna have to happen. Might even need to make a dresser or a console table into a bar, since this place is kinda anti-booze."

She shrugs and looks at her cart of supplies.

"Ah well, you're right. It's nothing a little paint and DIY won't fix. I love crafts, anyway. You're welcome to help, if you want! I'm hoping it can be a gathering point for...you know...those of us who're new to town."

[inpersonation]

"I would love to help," chirped Noelle, deciding she might as well commit to her bit. "I really like the idea of us having a place for us to gather around. Maybe discuss things of importance without worry of eavesdropping or something."

That and easy access to alcohol is nice. She beams up, doing her best to project a sunny and 'we can do it!' attitude. "I'm Blossom, by the way! It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. It sounds like there's some work that needs to be done but I'll do what I can to help."

every cloud...

[undiagnosed]

Like any diner in the middle of the day, the Blue Moon does not sell any kind of alcohol. As a result, Archer doesn't really care to visit it, other than for the occasional morning coffee which he loads up with bourbon. Today is not one of those days, but he does see Pam going HAM (ha) on a burger.

It is probably for the best she doesn't notice him almost mash his face into the window to make sure he's not imagining things, then staggers through the double glass doors. One of the waitresses who's seen him a few times before might attempt to suppress a small groan, if she were capable of feeling that way.

"Pam?" It's incredible how he moves when he's motivated. It's like he doesn't need that cane, suddenly. "Pam!"

Archer flops into the opposite seat, grabs her smoothie and takes a long drink out the straw.

You know what's coming.

"Paaaam!"

[sploosh]

It's a dirty shame she misses him nearly smooshing against the glass. Even more regrettable that this place has left her without a cell phone to capture such shareable moments. Ah well.

"Archer?"

She can't help but brighten up at the sound of his stupid voice. She hasn't seen him move this fast without gunfire as a motivator since coma-o-clock! She's beaming for a second. Then he sits and steals some of her milkshake.

"And there it is..."
Oh well, she's still happy to see her friend. She reaches across the table and takes hold of his hand, whether he likes it or not. He's lucky it isn't a hug...yet.
"Archer, you shake stealing son-of-a-bitch, how'd you end up here?"

[undiagnosed]

Archer's always been better at expressing himself with physical actions, and the fact he doesn't yank his hand away from hers probably says more than any I missed you possibly could. He even uses his free hand to thump his chest to burp the milkshake out rather than use the one she's holding. Might as well get down on one knee if he keeps going this way.

"Woke up here with Gilette in those creepy bedrooms," he starts, then stops, blinks slowly. "No, wait, I didn't wake up with with Ray. I mean-- he's around here too. Got himself a stabby little wife. You'll like her!" he snorts.

"Dec...ember? I think. I'll be honest, I've been on the grain alcohol pretty hard."

[sploosh]

"Aww...I was excited for you and Ray as a couple."

It really is surprising --almost to the point of being concerning-- that Archer hasn't retracted his hand. He must really be having a rough time of it here. She wonders how well Ray is coping.

"I just woke up here....married to Bruce Wayne." She gives a 'yes, that's his actual name' pause and snorts a laugh. "How can you guys have been here since December if you've been back home this whole time? Jesus..This is the most fucked up Schützenmeister induced nightmare yet."

Making it Feel Like Home

[fanoperator]

Huaisang overhears the question, peeking around the end of the aisle as he overhears the townsperson she's asked laugh like it's a joke and brush her off with a "How silly! That's not very family friendly!" before walking away.

Turning into the aisle once the townsperson has left, Huaisang briefly makes eyecontact with Pam, then pulls his cart up next to hers, seemingly considering the different brands of pasta as he speaks quietly. "They're very disapproving of alcohol around here. There are liquor stores to be found, but they're very quiet and you don't want to be recognized coming out of one."

Murmuring the address of the one he uses, Huaisang glances over and gives her a tiny smile. "If you need more help, see if you can contact Sterling Archer or Ray Gilette. They're also not from this world." He taps his watch to indicate that's the best method of contacting them.

He genuinely has no idea that the woman in front of him might recognize those names. To Huaisang, they are simply the two people he's met here who can be relied upon to always have quick access to a drink. Well, them and the police chief, but he's heard some reports of people being tranquilized after crossing the police chief, and that makes him all the more wary.

[sploosh]

"It's for cocktail parties, lady!" Pam calls after the woman who disapproved of her tiki bar. "That's how you make families!"

The long hair on Huaisang ...and the ethnicity...really don't mesh with the setting. Pam's picking up on the fact that not everyone in this town fits the cookie-cutter mold the place is trying to present. She isn't the only one here who doesn't belong.

"Thank Christ." She breathes in relief when he says there are liquor stores. The way he started, Pam was worried that this was the dimensional equivalent of a dry county.

"Wait....Archer and Ray are here? Holy shitsnacks!" She beams from ear to ear. It's a bummer that they got stuck too, but at least she's not alone. "They're my friends! ..... How long have they been here? I guess you're not from this crap hole, either?"

[fanoperator]

Huaisang blinks at her enthusiastic reaction. Most of the people he's met are from entirely different worlds, and he had no expectation that she would know those two names. Maybe it makes sense--the commitment to drinking was exactly the reason he brought them up. Their shared world must have a large amount of drinking. And for some reason the power that brings people here is more active in their world, too.

The jargon she uses is utterly foreign to him, but he gets the gist of her meaning. "They've been here since December, same as myself, though many of us also remember shared dreams of October. I'm from... Ancient China, or a version of it." He offers a polite little bow, arms in a circle with his palms facing toward his chest. "Nie Huaisang of Qinghe greets you."

[sploosh]

"Ancient China...so..." She lowers her voice. "They're taking us from all over time? That's nuts!"

This whole place gets weirder and weirder. At least she's learning more about it as she goes, but a lot of it seems to just make things more confusing. She's going to need that liquor store.

"I'm Pam Poovey. Pleased to meet you....Nie?"

home sweet hostage situation

[the_caped_crusader]

Downstairs.

[ the deep, disembodied voice calls back from downstairs. when he comes into view, bruce is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in his hand; another cup sits across from him. ]

Coffee's fresh, if you're interested.

[sploosh]

Pam makes her way down the stairs, lamp still raised and at the ready. She sees Bruce --looking non-threatening-- and his fresh coffee waiting for her.

"Hey! Don't think you can just handsome your way out of this! Who are you? Where am I? And what's with all the creepy photos? And is there creamer?"

[the_caped_crusader]

I'm Bruce. There's creamer in the fridge.

[ his eye drifts down to the makeshift weapon clutched in her hand. ]

Mind setting the lamp down now?

[sploosh]

She...lowers the lamp. Putting it down still feels a little too open to attack, but Bruce doesn't look ready to jump at her just this moment.

"I'm Pam. Where are we? Why are we in pictures together?"

Pam picks up the coffee mug and carries it to the fridge. She looks at her full hands and sighs, setting the lamp down on the kitchen counter.

"I haven't ruled you out as a kidnapper just yet...so don't try anything."

Home sweet hostage situation

[purplejaguareye]

[Kipo was heading downstairs to make herself breakfast, when she's interrupted with a woman equipped with a lamp.]

Whoa! Put the lamp down slowly, I'm not a threat!

[sploosh]

Pam lowers the lamp and cocks her head. She's seen the girl in the photos, but figured she was just pulled from the internet or something.

"Wow. Yer just a kid. Did you get kidnapped, too?"

[purplejaguareye]

Yeah, I did and... whoa! You're in the pictures now too!

[There's definitely a picture of Pam and a much, much younger Kipo at what looks like Kipo's 1st day at school.]

Are you... my mom?

[Well... "mom".]

[sploosh]

"I guess whoever put us here has cast me as your mom....yeah. So..uh. That's weird."

Pam isn't entirely anti-kids, but she didn't expect to just step into already having a pre-teen daughter one morning.

every cloud...

[bibliophilicbells]

Aziraphale is, as a rule, polite. Most of the time, anyway, and especially here — lest he offend one of the neighbors and get tranquilized. Or drugged. Or both.

Or worse, even.

The good thing is, his demeanor and dress have lent themselves well to this era, this place; he blends in so well that without his accent, he'd easily be mistaken for a local. And he likes them well enough, is the thing, except for when they're being creepy. But nobody's perfect, and his experiences back home... may have contributed to a slightly twisted sense of what The Powers That Be should or shouldn't be able to do.

Anyway, the point is: He's usually polite, except for sometimes.

Like now.

As he stares openly at Pam from his own seat, fork in hand, one eyebrow arched high.

[sploosh]

At first, Pam doesn't notice her audience. This is good food and she is eating to enjoy it, not to meet anyone's standards. This is Pam time. This place is stressful enough. She deserves to take her little joys where she can find them.

After a moment or so, though, she feels Aziraphale's eyes on her and looks over. She grabs a napkin and wipes her face, her nose scrunching up with her indignant frown. She feels like she's back at the lunch table in high school.

"You got a problem, mister?"

[bibliophilicbells]

Automatically, now that he's been caught: "I — no, I do apologize. Just — "

He can save this, he thinks, and can do it without outright lying.

"You might not want to — draw so much attention to yourself."

Who knows what this place is willing to tranq people over?

[sploosh]

"...how is having lunch drawing attention to myself?"

She huffs a sigh and sets her burger down. This place is impossible.

"I hate trying t'fit in here! It's impossible!"