person man, person man, hit on the head with a frying pan

[jacksonian]

WHO: Mark and whoever
WHERE: Everywhere!! But mostly De Chima and Maurtia Falls
WHEN: Throughout November
WHAT: Catch-all for November with stuff. Hit me up!! Please!!! Open prompts below; PM me if you want something that isn't these things.
WARNINGS: Mark's life sucks; I'll edit this header if any particular suckiness comes up.


1. dog dog dog dog dog dog dog; De Chima/Maurtia Falls
[ In De Chima or in Maurtia Falls, you might find a rather strange sight: a small stocky man walking an enormous stocky dog. This is Mark walking his dog Captain, a scarred and warlike pit bull that pulls at the leash and constantly wags his tail. Mark's expression is still a forbidding glower, but Captain's doggy face is open and bright-eyed and happy; there's no one he doesn't want to make friends with.

And Mark, unfortunately, doesn't know good leash technique, and also (in spite of his own roundness) doesn't outweigh his dog by that much. And so when Captain wants to make friends, Mark is dragged along behind him. And that is why, if you're walking around, you might be approached by a dog trailing a very sour-looking little man who's hissing - ]

No, don't - stop - heel -

2. come make $$$$; Maurtia Falls
[ PKE, LLC, up in Maurtia Falls, is beyond luxurious. The office is appointed with a sort of brushed-steel-and-pine classiness, like it's furnished from the expensive part of Ikea; the receptionist out front is attractive and aloof, and people who are waiting get offered mineral water from glass bottles.

There are any number of reasons that you might have ended up here: you might have received an advertisement in the mail, or a random notification on your phone, or you might have seen the advertising that targets imPorts. All of this advertising will have offered help in investing, getting rich, or opening a new business - generous funding to get everyone a little bit wealthier.

Mark, sitting at his desk, smiles a smile that can generously be described as oily when you're shown in. And he purrs - ]

Please, sit down. Tell me about how you'd like to make money.

3. kicking some grass; De Chima
[ Mark doesn't like to practice where he can be seen. Definitely not. So when he's worked up and anxious, he goes out far away from his family, far away from the people who know him, out into the forests of De Chima. On the unlikely off-chance that your character happens to wander by, they'll be treated to a very strange sight: a small fat man vigorously practicing a judo kata, face miserable, before punching a tree. He turns as soon as he hears them, though, eyes flashing with anger as he snarls - ]

What the hell are you doing here? Go away.

4. fuck it; anywhere
[ Mark's eating ice cream. Come have ice cream. ]

Comments

closed to duv galeni

[jacksonian]

[ Mark hadn't considered, when he was thinking about joining the makeshift version of ImpSec that they have here, that Duv Galeni would technically be his superior. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Obviously not. Galeni has been...really good to him here, after all, really decent, far better than he deserved even after Mark really screwed him over. And Galeni is not his father, not in any way. But it's still really weird. It's still really weird.

Mark stands in front of Galeni, now, while the man looks over his report on intel gathered at Chilton's recent party. He shifts just a bit from foot to foot, a faint anxiety bubbling in his stomach, waiting to be dismissed. He put everything in there, after all; he doubts that Galeni will have more questions. ]

[komarran]

[ When the news had reached him that Mark Vorkosigan would be his subordinate, he had taken a long moment to curse his luck. Another Vor, the second Vorkosigan. Tamer in some ways than Miles, challenging in others. This isn't his ideal command structure, but he didn't get as far as he has in the Barrayaran Imperial Service by complaining. No, he'd handle this like he's handled every other assignment he's been given.

Which apparently means proofreading the other man's reports, a process Duv remembers going through well when he joined ImpSec. His red pen is handy from the other side-job he's picked up since arriving here and is put to use on Mark Vorkosigan's report. Heavy use and he's only through the first few sections as he makes comments in the margins. ]

And this is the full report?

[jacksonian]

Ye...es...

[ Mark's eyes flick down, watching the pen scribble over the flimsy - the paper, he corrects himself mentally. What's he writing? How could he possibly be writing so much? Is he making notes for himself? There's scrap paper off to Galeni's side - plenty to use that isn't actually writing on the paper itself... ]

Uh...I was planning to turn that in to Illyan once you were done reading it.

closed to simon

[jacksonian]

[ The next stop after turning his report in to Galeni - and then revising his report, damn it all - is Illyan. Mark realizes, just a few moments before entering the room, that he doesn't actually know how an ImpSec agent is support to approach his superior. The only salutes he knows are Komarran-military-regulation (which he suspects wouldn't go over so well) and the gestures that a Count would make towards the Emperor (which would probably go over even worse). So when he enters Illyan's office, he offers nothing more than a faint sort of nod and a somewhat awkward parade rest. ]

Captain Illyan. A report on what I've uncovered.

[unclassifiable]

Ensign.

[Simon notes the lack of salute without correcting it for the moment. It was, after all, not technically regulation, only tradition which, for Barrayar, arguably had more weight. He waves Mark to have a seat and leans back, folding his hands together.]

By all means, proceed.

[jacksonian]

[ Mark relaxes just a little bit when he doesn't get chided for his failure of formality. Not to the point where he's outright relaxed, of course - he sits a little stiffly in his chair, and tugs anxiously at his shirtsleeves - but it does bring his anxiety down a few notches. ]

I went to the party thrown for Dr. Chilton. He and Petyr Baelish were both in attendance, and I spoke to them both.

1. DOGE!!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!!

[protects_the_small]

[If Kel has a flaw (a single flaw) it is that she doesn't really understand the point of leashes in regards to her dogs. Chubrub is an obedient sort, within earshot anyway, and she lets him roam ahead without fear whenever they're walking along the edges of the farm boundaries.

As such when he sees Captain, Chubrub's tail and ears go up and then he's BOUNDING forward to MAKE FRIENDS????]

dogES

[jacksonian]

[ And Captain's ears go forward too. He drags himself forward, sixty-odd pounds of muscle, to press his nose up against Chubrub's. A low, eager sort of growl comes out of his throat, an earnest sort of can-we-play growl; his tail whips back and forth.

Mark, meanwhile, is dangling off the other end of the leash, futilely hissing - ]

Back, no, no -

[ With his eyes flashing up anxiously to fix on Kel's face. ]

Good Doges

[protects_the_small]

[Kel doesn't bother speeding up her pace until she sees Captain dragging the figure behind him forward. Whistling sharply for Chubrub's attention, she ignores the anxious look from Mark.]

Chub, heel.

[Reluctantly, Chubrub backs away from the other dog, tail still wagging tentatively.

closed to cordelia

[jacksonian]

[ Mark approaches his mother's room shyly, uncertainly, and knocks a little hesitantly on her door. He knows she's there - he wouldn't have done all this without full intel, after all - but he is a little irrationally afraid she won't want to see him. But he does think to himself about how completely irrational that fear is - which is, at least, a sign to himself that he's gotten better lately. Sure, he's still scared of stupid things, but at least he doesn't try to justify that fear quite so much. ]

[keep_nothing]

[ That is a good sign for Mark, one Cordelia has been noticing recently. Not that she can see in his head like she can with Miles, but Mark's mannerisms tell her all she needs to know: his hesitation around her becoming less distinct with each visit and lunch date, his voicing of opinions growing more confident. Even his dry humor comes more freely in his sarcastic moments.

She does all she can to encourage that growth so she doesn't hesitate to call out in response to the quiet knocking. Mark will find her lying on the comfortable sofa with a tablet in hand for reading. ]

Come in.

DOGS :DDD

[mostlysunny]

[You know who loves dogs? Supergirl. Well, Kara Danvers Zor-El, but right now she's patrolling and the red cape is in evidence, so it's Supergirl who loves dogs, and it's Supergirl who's swooping down to land about a block away and already dropping to her knees to give this particular dog a big happy hug.]

Hi buddy!

[Her Porter-given inner glow is bright and golden right now, because meeting dogs, and she's literally beaming when she looks up—it's not up very far, but she's at Captain's level, so it's up a little bit—at his owner.]

He's so sweet! What's his name?

dogs dogs DOGS

[jacksonian]

[ Oh. Holy...holy shit. It's - it's a flying dream girl. Mark, for just a moment, isn't capable of any sourness; he loses his scowl; his eyes go wide. Because this is probably the most beautiful girl he's ever seen in his life, and she's grinning at him, and she's literally glowing, and he feels faint. ]

Um -

[ He swallows hard and tries to regain his wits. It's fortunate that Captain is such a charmer; he has a mean face but a loving manner, and indeed twists around to lick her vigorously and joyously and rather slobberingly on the ear, snuffling at her hair all the while. ]

This is, uh, Captain. [ Then, less politely than he wishes he sounded: ] Who are you?

2 because let's drive Mark to drink.

[helpline]

[ The Doctor's List of Checking To Make Certain That Major Businesses Aren't Gonna Destroy Anything, Looking At You Tony Stark
Wayne Enterprises: ✔
Starrware: ✔
PKE, LLC: ?

Okay, so this wasn't one of the ones he was actively worried about, looking at you tech companies, but the Doctor's dealt with enough billionaires without any scruples to not put all the eggs in the technology basket. So, checking out PKE, LLC it was. Thankfully, he has a good excuse (small business owner!) to get him through the door...at which point he starts bothering the receptionist and then bothering the clientele and sticking out like a sore thumb in his sunglasses. At least his black coat with red lining fits in...slightly.

So, when he inevitably gets shoved into Mark's office by the secretary who's about to lose her cool, he sits down...and then just frowns. ]

Ah. A sycophant. [ sorry Mark. ] Truth be told, I'm not interested in money, I'm just here to bother you about your business.

yes I'm so happy

[jacksonian]

[ God damn it. Mark does need to hire a better secretary. He hired the one he has now thanks to her brusqueness and coldness, which is a strategy which has not worked out well for him; it turned out that pretty and bitchy don't actually equal super-competent.

God damn it.

But what's he going to do now? Throw him out? That's just bad business - this guy will go around spreading stories about shitty customer service, unfriendliness and unhelpfulness...So Mark glowers at him, but says: ]

Fine. What are your questions?

doge of course

[sidequestings]

[ captain is what he notices first, because while mahanon isn't ferelden and doesn't particularly want to be ferelden, he still has a serious appreciation for all kinds of dogs in all their doggy glory. and pitbulls, as it so happens, don't look all that different from some breeds in thedas.. which is at least something familiar.

when he realizes captain is making a beeline for him, tail wagging furiously, mahanon goes to crouch down, putting his hands out to gently catch the massive head as the enthusiastic dog shoves it toward him. he laughs, scratching the scarred face gently, and glances up-- and realizes with a start that he's looking at mark. his eyes widen briefly, then warm, smile widening into a grin. ]

Mark! Hello. It's been a while since I've seen you. [ he pats captain again, then rises to his feet, dusting his knees off. ] Still teaching him leash-manners, hm? When did you get him?

good GOOD

[jacksonian]

Oh. Hello.

[ Mark, in turn, looks down and away, feeling suddenly very shy. Which is stupid. It's not as though Mahanon has any dirt on him or anything, or like he's done anything embarrassing or told him any secrets. But he still feels shy. Damn it. ]

I got him about two months ago. [ Which - he ought not be quite so ill-behaved if Mark got him two months ago, but, well, what can you do. ] His name is Captain.

3

[use_everything]

[The only reason Aral was this far out was.. well. If he was going to be really honest, a feeling of indolence that had been creeping around with not as much to do here. But walking one of the dogs was certainly the immediate reason. He'd let them have the run of the leash, keeping a quick pace behind the galloping German Shepherd.

While Aral stops at the cutting anger and explosive remark, the dog just bounds to the edge of his leash, intent on licking Mark's face.]

A bad time, I take it. [It's mild, for as much as the man is winded, himself.]

<3333

[jacksonian]

[ Mark stiffens, eyes widening in dismay as he realizes just who it was he snarled at. ]

Sir.

[ Usually Mark would pet the dog, but all he does now is lift a hand to push down the shepherd's nose, to keep it from licking his face. He needs to preserve all the dignity he can. ]

I - I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was you.

3

[meancuisine]

[And Eliot doesn't like seeing the kid he's half adopted in his head (even if he hasn't actually said anything about that) slip away when he thinks no one notices, so clearly the sensible thing to do is to shadow him as he heads into the woods. When Mark turns to snarl at him he just raises his eyebrows and folds his arms across his chest]

I'm doing my job.

[jacksonian]

Yeah, but -

[ He deflates a little. That's true. But at the same time, this isn't something he wants people...seeing, really, even people who've proven to be as professional and competent as Eliot. He rubs his hands on the sides of his pants, muttering - ]

You don't have to do it out here...

2

[fullmetalbrat]

[Ed has to bite his inner cheek to keep from laughing. This is very serious. Mark takes this very seriously, and Mark is very sensitive so there's definitely no way he can laugh at his friend. Even if listening to him acting like one of the corrupt sleazeballs he'd ruined during his journey was, in fact, hilarious.

He clears his throat to hide any snickers that manage to escape and drops into the offered chair.]

Well, I think I've got the making money part down already. It's what to do with it all that I need help with.

[Before it'd all gone towards travelling expenses, but now... What does a seventeen year old do with literal piles of money?]

[jacksonian]

[ Mark nods and steeples his fingers, regarding Ed. He does work hard to keep up his image here. Even though - well - Ed knows this isn't him, exactly, he still needs to. It's important for the business. ]

You want to turn it into more money, maybe? That can be done.

2!

[resoundingpledge]

It's not about money, really. Or . . . I guess it is, but not exactly like that.

[ Heavy overalls, a tool belt at her waist, a white cotton shirt—there's no part of her working-class outfit that fits with the clean lines and muted luxury of Mark's office. And yet there's no part of her that seems to mind that, or even acknowledge it; she looks as relaxed and comfortable here as she had sitting in the bubble tea shop, or walking up to him at the Ren Faire.

As if she'd been the same person each time, in each setting. As if he had been—as if there's no difference at all between the desperately insecure teenager and the authoritative CEO.

It's all just Mark, isn't it?

The drawstring bag she takes out of her satchel is just as at odds with the surroundings as she is. Coloured a cheery purple and emblazoned with cartoonish angel wings, it's larger than a coffee cup and filled with irregular pebble-like bumps. And heavy, too, judging by the thump as she sets it on his desk. ]

I was organizing some things in the garage, and I remembered these. And I thought . . . this is a lot more the kind of thing you're good at, isn't it?

[jacksonian]

Uh -

[ His brows draw down very slightly. He prods the bag a little uncertainly - and then finds that it's far heavier than he had anticipated. He looks up at her (still really, really amazing) face, and then down at the bag again, then up at her face once again.

Uncertainly, delicately, he asks: ]

Is this...what I think it is?