Mike Parker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lackey) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2015-11-26 11:16 pm
lackey) wrote in maskormenacelogs2015-11-26 11:16 pm
Entry tags:
[open] it's just me and the ground beneath my feet
WHO: Mike Parker (lackey), OPEN
WHERE: De Chima roadside
WHEN: November 26th, any time
WHAT: Piehaving
WARNINGS: Drug mentions, possible but not probable violence
[Mike Parker had made all the necessary arrangements the day before. First he'd hauled a small folding table and two chairs up the steep embankment from 'his' bridge to the road nearby and set them up there. Then he'd taped a piece of cardboard with PIE written on it in big, black letters to the front edge of the table. A quick run to the nearest bakery had produced the pie in question. One of the last ones left. Apple.
He'd taken it down under the bridge for safekeeping overnight, but the next morning, the pie, still tucked away in its box, is front and center on the roadside table. It's accompanied by a thermos, several mugs, a short stack of paper plates, and a smattering of plastic utensils. It's also accompanied by Mike Parker.
Mike lounges in one of the chairs, cleaned up and dressed up for the occasion: instead of his usual cargo pants and beater, he's wearing a new outfit consisting of dark wash jeans and a long sleeve v-neck shirt. His hair is braided, but the braid is still relatively neat, with only one stray strand doing its own thing in front of his right ear.
For the first time in a long time, he doesn't look like a homeless drug dealer. Even though, you know, he still is one.
Pouring himself a mug of coffee and lighting a cigarette, he sits back and watches the cars go by.
Right up until he decides he's goddamn tired of watching the cars go by.
The mug is set down, the cigarette ground out under the heel of his boot, and then Mike Parker is in the middle of the street lane nearest his table, staring down the next car headed his way. They probably haven't even had a chance to see the PIE sign, no, it's just some guy all up in their car's grill.
Possibly your car's grill.
Stop or be stopped.]
lackey), OPENWHERE: De Chima roadside
WHEN: November 26th, any time
WHAT: Piehaving
WARNINGS: Drug mentions, possible but not probable violence
[Mike Parker had made all the necessary arrangements the day before. First he'd hauled a small folding table and two chairs up the steep embankment from 'his' bridge to the road nearby and set them up there. Then he'd taped a piece of cardboard with PIE written on it in big, black letters to the front edge of the table. A quick run to the nearest bakery had produced the pie in question. One of the last ones left. Apple.
He'd taken it down under the bridge for safekeeping overnight, but the next morning, the pie, still tucked away in its box, is front and center on the roadside table. It's accompanied by a thermos, several mugs, a short stack of paper plates, and a smattering of plastic utensils. It's also accompanied by Mike Parker.
Mike lounges in one of the chairs, cleaned up and dressed up for the occasion: instead of his usual cargo pants and beater, he's wearing a new outfit consisting of dark wash jeans and a long sleeve v-neck shirt. His hair is braided, but the braid is still relatively neat, with only one stray strand doing its own thing in front of his right ear.
For the first time in a long time, he doesn't look like a homeless drug dealer. Even though, you know, he still is one.
Pouring himself a mug of coffee and lighting a cigarette, he sits back and watches the cars go by.
Right up until he decides he's goddamn tired of watching the cars go by.
The mug is set down, the cigarette ground out under the heel of his boot, and then Mike Parker is in the middle of the street lane nearest his table, staring down the next car headed his way. They probably haven't even had a chance to see the PIE sign, no, it's just some guy all up in their car's grill.
Possibly your car's grill.
Stop or be stopped.]
no subject
And he was driving peacefully on his lane until there is some crazy person who goes in the middle of the street with some sign on his hands that Kaneki didn't have the chance to read. He hits the brakes and the car stops before he hits the man, but the ghoul is left staring at Mike while the other cars behind him honk.
Oh my god. ]
What- [ wait, he has to pull down the window - ] What are you doing?!
no subject
Ignoring the angry honks from the cars piling up behind the stranger and his floating vehicle, Mike calls out to him. He's going to stay right where he is so the guy doesn't just drive off.]
Pie! [He gestures to the table off on the roadside.] C'mon, pull over, we're havin' pie.
[Just talking to Kaneki like they're old friends.]
no subject
well, this person, apparently. is he an imPort? Natives aren't usually this weird (yes they are...)
Kaneki looks at Mike, not entirely sure if he really just heard him calling him for pie, but, he sure did. The cars behind Kaneki eventually just move to the side to continue their driving, even though they continuously honk, and Mike doesn't move an inch. with his white head out of the window, Kaneki shakes his head ]
Do you really think this is the right timing to tell people to eat pie with you?!
no subject
No better timing!
[He turns his attention back to the guy he stopped and takes a second look at him.]
ImPort? [Mike tends to assume anybody who's even a little different-looking is an imPort. He's been wrong before, but nobody's ever taken offense to the guess, so.]
no subject
kaneki looks to the side at the cars honking and he can only bow his head politely to apologize and why is this person still in the middle of the street ]
Yes- [ he is an imPort ] and this is terrible timing!