maskormenacelogs | A Weekly Routine

Entry tags:

A Weekly Routine - OTA

WHO: Rude, OTA
WHERE: Around Nonah
WHEN: Throughout June
WHAT: Work-outs, Bakeries, Plants, and Books
WARNINGS: Nothing.

FItness Man
Gym memberships turn out to be pretty good. Rude ultimately selected one in Nonah for his early morning workouts, which was why he was here now, at five in the morning. Some days he just needed the fitness to get himself awake. Today was one of those days, with Rude moving slowly throughout a morning routine. Curls with weights, a few different machines, some time on the treadmill. Really, the only weird thing about it all was that every single thing he did, even as he laid down to do some bench pressing, is done with his sunglasses in place. What man ever does that? Definitely a conversation topic, possibly.

Creepy Cookies
Lunch. And a cheat day at that. Normally one to go for a wrap and fruit salad as a light meal, Rude instead let himself splurge today, heading for a local bakery. It had been a while since he’d had any cookies or anything else like that. So this was definitely something he was looking forward to. The bakery was even along his morning jog route, so he hadn’t hesitated to pop in today. The cookies called to him and as he looked through the display cases to see what he could get, Rude froze.

Rude was no stranger to sugar cookies that had been cut into shapes and covered with frosting. What he wasn’t used to seeing was faces on them. Some of which he’d seen on the network. These… we imports. The guy with the blue hair who messed up his house. Some black guy with yellow sunglasses. A dude that had been powdered to look like gold. Sephiroth. Okay, maybe he takes a picture of that last one.

“These common?” he asks the next customer coming to look at the case. If so, that’s distressing.

Plants Matter
His bedroom needed something nice to it, Rude had decided. And since he knew he now had a neighbor to be certain he didn’t kill any of his plants right away, there was no better time than the present for Rude to add a bit of color to his life. Color in the form that brought him to a local nursery, poking and prodding through the tropical plants section. Of course, he’d never taken care of a plant before, not really. Nothing but a spider plant. Which meant he was a bit overwhelmed. How was he supposed to tell which worked best for his window sill? How often was he supposed to water them? Did they need any special supplements in the soil? The man in the sunglasses frowned intensely at the plants, as if that could make them give up their secrets.

Stocking Shelves
Part of properly preparing one’s living space is to make sure there are plenty of books around to enjoy. Rude had finally finished building his last bookshelf the night before, and that meant it was time to start acquiring books that were not foisted off on him by his superiors. But, not knowing exactly what would and wouldn’t be good, Rude decided spending a lot of his limited funds was a bad idea.

Which was why he was here. Twice Loved was the name of the used bookstore, and it was cluttered and cramped and it smelled of books and it was heaven. Rude paused when he walked in to take a deep breath, and then grabbed a basket to load selections into. Any area with fiction was fair game so he could get a feel for writing here. Though, if someone came close, he wouldn’t hesitate the flash the book title at them.

“Know if this is any good?”

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

"Eep-!"

Cecelia wasn't expecting to be addressed right then and there. And, sure, maybe she had been giving a couple furtive glances the man's way prior to deciding to try and move past him down the aisle, but...but of course she would! Look at him! He looks like a movie hitman!

And so, now frozen in place save for the occasionally-twitching ear, Cecelia is addressed...by a maybe-movie hitman.

"Um."

She has to force her gaze down to the book title. What do her half-elf eyes see.

They see a very interesting romantic novel about a pirate and the stow away they came to love.

"I'm sorry. If you don't know it, it's okay."

Look, he may look like a movie hitman and that may be because he's totally a hitman of sorts, but that doesn't mean he isn't kind. That he isn't a nice person.

"Oh, well, um..."

Gods help her, she absolutely knows that book. But does she admit it? Is this a test? What is a guy who looks like that doing shopping around and targeting a title like that?! Look, just because they say don't judge a book by its cover doesn't mean one exercises a bit of good old-fashioned scrutiny in judging outward appearances!

She blinks, realizing she's letting her endless internal monologue spiral well and far away from the present and the logical, brought back with the realization that regardless, she could just...leave?

Or set him on fire if things got wild.

Not everything is an attack, her older self had written. It's good advice to keep to heart.

"Actually, I, ah...I do know that one, yes." She clears her throat, painfully aware of the nervous warble in her voice and hating it. "But it...depends on...what you're looking for? I guess? I can't just. Just say good or bad and expect that to be clear. You see."

"Want to try a lot of things," Rude shrugs. And his basket definitely has a legal thriller, some sci-fi, a dash of medical horror, and even a rather thick fantasy. Hell, there's even some teen stuff.

"Just moved here, trying to refill my bookshelves. There's time for fine literature later. Need something trashy to read after work."

Well, then.

"Then that one will definitely satisfy your need for trash," she replies, nodding sagely. She doesn't let that linger long at all, because she has the presence of mind to quickly add on to it and clarify.

"That is-- it's go no decent moral, wanders aimlessly in the second act, and no one genuinely earns anything for good or ill. It's simply sensationalist gratification.

"...Skip any page where you see attempts at poetry appear, though. It's appalling."

The idea of bad poetry earns an actual grimace from him.

"Is there a better suggestion for the genre that you might have? Slightly more quality?"

Something worth sinking his teeth into?

Bart wasn't really shopping. He'd mostly stepped in because bookstores, especially used bookstores have an atmosphere about them. It's something he never saw in his VR chamber, and something he only learned to appreciate as he was forced to really grow up. Even reading an entire library hadn't quite prepared the speedster to fall in love with books.

But he had, and while his tastes tended towards either the utterly pulp trashfic of this or another era, or much more grounded and realistic non-fiction, there was still something to be said for actually holding a book in his hands. He wonders what happened to his signed first edition of Mark Twain sometimes.

But when a guy in shades who looks like he's trying out for the Matrix shoves a book at him, he steps back, eyeing both the book and man warily. "I...think that mostly depends on how you define good."

Bean didn't used to be much into working out. When he was in Battle School, it was required of them, so that they wouldn't lose muscle mass in the lessened gravity of the station. After the war, when he returned to Earth, he stayed active by training with his elite squad of Thai commandos while they tracked Achilles' every move in India.

On this Earth? There's no war, no artificial gravity. His life is a breeze, and it's all too easy to fall into inactivity. So, he makes a point of joining a gym in Nonah where he now lives, going there first thing in the morning to get a workout in before he starts his day.

If he has any problem with the man on the treadmill next to him wearing sunglasses, he doesn't mention it. He just hopes the man doesn't have any problem with an eleven year old working out at five am.

No, no problem with it. Yet, even with the sunglasses to hide his eyes, it is obvious the man keeps glancing over at the boy. And perhaps speeding up his treadmill because pride. Pride is still at thing that matters to him.

Is it silly, yes? But he doesn't care.

"Fun to read, even if it's not great," Rude stipulates. "But if you don't know the book, then it's fine."

Bean notices the glances, from the corner of his eye. And he notices the way the man speeds up his treadmill. It makes him laugh sardonically. Does this guy really feel threatened by an eleven year old?

After enough glances to sufficiently distract Bean, he steps onto the non-moving sides of the treadmill, reaching for his water bottle and staring blatantly at the man while he drinks.

"Going fast enough?"

"I know the author, but I haven't read that one, yet," Bart said, holding out his hand for the book. "The publisher really has an issue with deceptive cover art, though."

"Along that vein, you mean?"

Hmm...

Cecelia peels her eyes away from the man and his suspect selection, giving the array of spines before her a glance-over. This is her first time in this particular building, so she has yet to truly acquaint herself with what's in stock, so it's as much a quest for herself as it is for him!

Yet she does recognize a few titles.

"Well, this one isn't as bad--" She pulls a doorstopper of a title out, offering it out. A similar, gauche, airbrushed type cover greets him.

"I mean. It's still bad, but more palatable overall."

Well, with that statement he takes the offered book and puts it into the basket. Still, he nods and looks at her expectantly.

"You familiar with books here? Read a lot?"

"How deceptive? Are there not actually pirates in it?"

Because Rude definitely wants to read about pirates. It's not as big of a thing in his world.

"Could go faster," Rude answers, but he doesn't pump it up further. "Need to work on speed as well as stamina."

What? That's believable, isn't it? Totally not. But he'd been taking an easy morning and having a kid upstage him doesn't feel good.

Bart grabs the book, an appears to flip through the pages, his eyes scanning them at superspeed. "Well, yeah, definitely pirates. More than a few utterly unrealistic naval encounters and swordfights, and plenty of hot and heavy innuendo because apparently pirates have to be sexy."

He's not going to mention the love scenes or the purple prose, because that should be obvious from the cover art. "I just meant that they literally ask the authors to fill in a multiple-choice questionnaire regarding the hero, heroine and setting, and based on those results, someone does cover art of scenes that may or may not even be in the story. But it's a romance novel, and they're all pretty much equivalent."

A pause. "Well, until you get into the really kinky stuff." But he offers the book back.

Wait what? Rude stares at the man.

"You've read it before?"

He seemed a bit confused about it earlier.

"No, I just read it. It's a mass-market paperback, it's not like they take that long, even at normal speeds," Bart said, shrugging. "But I figured it might be easier to answer questions with more than the blurb on the back."

Another pause, then he adds, "I'm a speedster. Gives a whole new meaning to speed-reading."

But it makes it impossible to actually keep up with his reading appetite if he does that all the time.

Just. Just read it. Rude stares.

"Speedster?" he asks, because the word means NOTHING to him. He frowns and picks a random book off another shelf, this one having what looks like a man and an elven woman on the cover. He thrusts it at Bart.

"What's the twist in this one?"

"Superspeed? Faster than a speeding bullet? It's my big power. One-trick pony, but it's not bad."

He takes the book, thumbing through it in the same manner. "It's a generational story. And he's got a normal human lifespan."

One-trick, but truly a unique one so far as Rude knows.

"Generational? What do you mean by that?"

Nope, he's intrigued. Keep talking kid, you've got his full attention.

"The story covers what would be multiple generations of the same family, including the consequences of having different lifespans on them and their offspring," Bart said. "It's not a common storyline, especially outside of science fiction where interstellar distances mean that unless you can somehow change the properties of distance to allow for shorter transit times, it would take several hundred or thousand years for most people to go from Planet A to Planet B."

He shrugs. It's a weird concept, but sometimes it works. "I don't make the rules."

No, that's good. Rude takes the book and puts it in his basket before returning his attention to Bart.

"You're different than people I've met. Even than Reno. Can you do other things fast?"

"You're not the first person to say that. If it weren't for my evil clone, I'd be one of a kind," Bart said, trying for a joke. "And I can do a lot of things fast."

There's a slight stir in the air as Bart vanishes, taking a split second to run around the aisles to get behind the guy. "Not all of them are very, uh, Flashy."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 8

A Weekly Routine - OTA

stocking shelves

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Stocking Shelves

fitness man, meet fitness boy

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject