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Holy Sh*tsnacks, Batman! // Early February// Open
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 If she's stuck in this weird out-of-date after school special, she can at least have a home she can be proud of.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.
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.
every cloud...
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
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?
no subject
She huffs a sigh and sets her burger down. This place is impossible.
"I hate trying t'fit in here! It's impossible!"
no subject
Oops.
Aziraphale holds his hands up, begging her pause, please don't — be that upset, give him a second, let's all be cool.
"I'm sorry. I should not have stared at you and made you uncomfortable. What I meant by that is, well, the people here are rather... set in their ways. Stuffy, perhaps, even, which I realize is rich coming from me. I'm a — "
He hesitates.
" — dick. I apologize."