Panophobia: Second Impact (IC Thread)

[Mormarth]

Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
​Thursday

A buzzing whirr of radio frequency buzzes through the cooling air of the late afternoon, the muggy humidity of the lower Adirondacks and their plethora of wetlands and swamps now giving way to the natural mountainous crispness, the lazy hand of the frozen north reaching down and brushing a careless hand over the foothills where your town lies.

Yes, your town.

Fairfield, New York.

With its streets that glisten and reek with the summery scent of fresh tar, and the western roads that fade between gravel and dirt, alongside the stubborn old road leading up, further into those old, old mountains.

The final chill of spring is fading. Soon, Summer will be here in earnest, tired eyed university students clamber back to the wooden dorm buildings dotted around the oak tree park in the center of town, ears laden with cheap alcohol. Irascible children are about to be called into their homes by their parents.

Very wholesome, a firmly ordinary north-eastern town, nestled gently in the hills.

But, for whatever reason, you have grown, hm, perhaps discontent with your lot.

Maybe you were always this way, perhaps you came to this train of thought recently, after a loss, or great shock, perhaps?

Well, it's none of this old man's business.

You all got the flyer, in one way or 'nother, got the coordinates, got the location, and now you're here.

Out front of Mickey's Long Term Storage and Garage, being watched through a small kiosk window by a bespectacled youth in his early 20s, just now setting down a thick textbook.

The buzzing of the radio lies thinly in the air, like a mosquito on the edge of hearing.

He leans idly out of the window, peering measuringly at all of you, particularly the younger individuals.

"Here about the flyer?"

[Airen]

Sarah Parker
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
​Thursday

"...Yep."

---As always, the ever-stoic face of Sarah Parker rests in the dim shadows of a strategically placed visor, eyes shielded from the weakening lights of the evening sun. The young woman is rather young-looking even at a glance, an easy to spot high school student, clad in a sky-blue jacket that seems meticulously cared for, like a whole lot of extra effort had gone towards making sure not a single stain or stray thread existed on it's visage, although the vaguely annoyed face of the girl beneath is not one that seems particularly concerned with fashion, meaning that it must be something a tad more pragmatic in nature, nevertheless...

"Seemed like a good way to kill some time."

...In spite of her youth, the young woman responds to the words of the older man without hesitation, an emotionless but clear voice that pierces through the incessant buzzing of a radio. Of course the older man was giving her that look adults often do, that questioning look of should you be here right now, or at least, that is what she assumes the look to be, so...

"..."

Best to make her intentions clear now.

The usual nightlife was already losing it's charm, same old same old a lot of the time, so some sort of strange occult, urban legend investigation thing?

Sure.

Would be interesting at least, a break in the endless routines.

Something new.

Although judging by all the college punks, might wind up a tad more annoying than she thought too...

They tend to be worse than normal adults even, always think they're hot shit the second they get out of high school, real adults, but nah, college kids were just older high schoolers.

It was easy to see if you just paid attention to how they tended to act.

[Sixkiller]

John Smith
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
​Thursday

He came through the dying spring haze with a scorn.

It was set like stone; someone had chiseled it in place. Time made the terrain so natural that only archeology dug out what else his lips did. He was a pale-faced boy on the cliff of manhood. Too old for high school, too young for college.

Just right for the all-American angst: vaguely disgruntled anger without direction, the most dangerous for bystanders. The type that sold big in the box office last year–Twilight, was it? Eight big zeros in a horizontal line. Robert Pattinson as your mom’s sinful crush. Vampiric gigolos–America ate it up. Sucks the real thing was a waft of unpleasant motions and Lilliputian limbs.

John Smith was lathered with sunscreen. SPF 50, straight from the 2-in-1 deals at Walmart. The sun could be an insidious killer; notice how the 14-dollar substance made him glisten: beads of sweat ran on short hair and thick eyebrows. They settled on a black t-shirt—the punk faces of Linkin Park in profile. The rest of his outfit was a blue denim jean, the knees slashed, and Reebok sneakers.

He said, “Got that right, four eyes, unless your coffee-addled geek handed out the wrong address…”

John looked back. His eyes took a snapshot of the gallery of freaks. Little Miss Bitch was doing the same. The stoic women annoyed him. Who the fuck gave her the right to judge? She ought to stay in her own lane. He returned to the bespectacled youth.

“... and booked us on the set for Storage Wars.”

[arkturus]

Yeong Min
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
​Thursday

The short and stocky girl unzipped her sports parka, which was emblazoned with an image of a ferocious wombat, and fanned herself. She could always count on the crisp mountain air to cool her down after a good sweat, the best time being during her morning runs when the sun hadn't had the time to warm up the asphalt. But lately it did seem to be warming up. School just let out after all, meaning that summer was well on its way.

To Yeong, summer meant a lot of things. To Yeong the ace striker and all-rounder of the Wild Wombats, summer meant spending more time at the park's soccer field, building up a sweat, getting tanned under the blazing sun, and grabbing ice cream on the way home with her teammates. To Yeong the "no-good-daughter", it meant her mom would drive her up the wall, pestering her to help out at the store or go to tutoring to bring her grades up. But this year, summer meant something new: Jong would be coming back home from college. Her heart pounded with the excitement that she would see her big brother, who was so busy that he couldn't even find the time to visit during Christmas, after almost a year apart. She couldn't wait to hang out with him again, shoot the shit while playing video games or playing pickup games at the park. When was he arriving home again? She had lost track of the days as she scrambled to finish the semester. Luckily it seemed like she was able to avoid having to go to summer classes this year.

Another bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. It seemed that fanning herself wasn't doing much. Yeong elected to just take off her wombat emblazoned parka, wrapping it around her waist so she could unstick her sweaty shirt from her skin and let the evening air wash over her exposed stomach. Her post-practice shower now seemed worthless since she had to run over here just to make it in time. She cursed the conversation that brought her here: she was complaining how her mom wasn't going to give her the money for new cleats and one of her teammates had pulled out a flyer for this "ghost hunting" group. They had a bet going, $50 to stick it out with the ghost squad for a few weeks. Yeong regretted telling her the story where she was attacked by a ghost in her sleep and had to sleep in her brother's room. She wasn't thrilled to be here but she hated being called a coward more. Plus the money helped.

"Yeah I'm here about the flyer." Yeong looked around at the group. It seemed mostly comprised of some weirdly dressed college students but there were a few people her age. "So what the heck are we here for? Is a storage unit haunted or something?"

[Draconic]

Adrian Saunders
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
Thursday

As Adrian approached the concrete façade, he walked through a nearly solid wave of pure angst. Someone, or perhaps several someones here were in an exceptionally foul mood. He’d have to watch his step. Didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with these people.

His hopes for that were pretty much trampled over when he saw the face of the proprietor though. He wasn’t much older than Adrian himself, but the bags under his eyes and the way his teeth bit into his cigarette showing just a little too much gum spoke of disdain for all of humanity. This man already hated him, he was sure of it. Probably not for any particular reason, he was just part of the problem.

“There you go again Adrian,” he muttered to himself. “Stop trying to get into peoples’ heads. You don’t actually know what they’re thinking.”

Heck it might not even be the man at the counter who was angry.

Whatever the case, he’d definitely need to talk to these people, and he’d rather not have a fight on his hands.

“Hi. I’m here about a flier I found. Something about paranormal stuff. I guess I was curious. What this was about, I mean. Sorry.”

At least the people who were already here looked about his age. One of the girls was definitely younger, but the other two people were definitely in the same age range as him. He had to admit he’d been worried about being the youngest person in whatever group of people that showed up here. Didn’t have to dwell on that anymore, at least.

[Bloble]

???
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
​Thursday

"Oh come on, when have I ever led you wrong? It's legit, I can just feel it. You know that adorable little shiver you get when you spot a clue and it makes your heart skip a beat? Well I get a jolt just like it, looking at that thing. It's so ugly, so gauche, so retro it can't be ironic."

From the distance, just around the corner of the building, accompanying the sound of footsteps, comes a high-pitched, melodious voice. Something flaps in the nonexistent breeze. Sounds like a flyer being used as a fan.

"Ooooh, I'm shivering just thinking about it... Someone's finally unpacking that old unsolved mystery...!"

[RacingeR]

???
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
​Thursday

“Ever the optimist, I see.” Another voice, a clearly female one, grumbled back. “I tell you, I know we’ve seen some weird shit before, but I can’t see how a ghost-hunting club of all things is going to clue us in.”

“I mean, yeah, it is frustrating that we’ve never been able to solve those disappearances… but don’t you think it is a bit too desperate?” The female voice continued, sounding quite annoyed.

“And I bet you that either no one will come, or it will be all a bunch of weirdos anyway…” A small pause. “But I admit something felt weird about that flyer, alright.”

[Bloble]

???
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
​Thursday

"See, you got it too! It's that feeling. The one that says you'll never get anywhere interesting just following common sense. They call it a leap of logic because you gotta jump for it."

The voice, now identifiable as male, croons.

"Besides, babe, I know how hard you work. Calls for a break, I hear 'em! Take a day off, do something fun like old times. Who knows, you might even come back inspired."

The man rounds the corner, eyes turned back, cheerfully talking to his grumpy companion.

"So how about this, Jill? If the ghost hunt's a bust, I pay for dinner. But if we find a dead body, you get to put your hands aaaaall over it. Win-win."

[RacingeR]

Jill Dumont
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
​Thursday

“Haaah. Whatever.” A sigh. “It’s not like we’ve got any other case to be working on. Very quiet week, this one.”

“Plus, someone’s doing something weird in Fairfield. This is my bailiwick. Gotta keep an eye on this either way…”

She appears after the man does, light blue eyes trained on her conversation partner’s face. Her hair, dyed pink, makes her identity pretty recognizable for the town’s inhabitants, as it has become her trademark of sorts.

“I’ll hold you up to the bet, Jacob. Hopefully, something does come out of this, after all. And if it doesn’t, I could use a fancier dinner today.” She shrugs, as if to show she surrenders to her partner’s logic, and then her eyes run over the group reunited near the entrance.

“Told you it’ll be weirdoes~” Jill sighed, before smiling lightly and making that comment in a low voice to her partner. “Ah well, this is interesting on its own way~”

[Bloble]

Jacob Hopeman
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
​Thursday

"Oooooooo! Let's see..." Jacob leans forward, squinting at the gathered group... and then his shoulders slump dramatically as he whispers back to her, perhaps a bit too loudly. "Weirdos? Jill, they're drab. Just look at Mr. Linkin Park there, he's just too angry to live, regretting the whole day already. Baseball Cap has gotta be his little sister or something, can't decide whether to show off her jacket or go back to the arcade. And Summer Trenchcoat for sure plays D&D in his mom's basement. Not a thing worth looking at in this mess except Sports Girl's abs. Oh I can't wait for them to start fighting."

Jacob Hopeman's outfit defies classification, as if pulled together from five different fashion magazines. He wafts some air towards his face with the flier, shrugging as he strides forward and plasters a plastic smile across his gaunt face, waving energetically to the bespectacled man in the kiosk.

"Well hellooo there! Had to show up fashionably late, sorry not sorry! Please don't be a scam or an MLM or I owe this superhero dinner!"

[Draconic]

Adrian Saunders
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
Thursday

Like many of his behaviors, eavesdropping was compulsive for Adrian. That being said, he didn't always do it. Just when something caught his interest. In this case, he tuned in when he heard the word 'arcade.' Then he heard the next part:

"And Summer Trenchcoat for sure plays D&D in his mom's basement."

Adrian wasn't an idiot. He knew he was a geek, and he knew that he looked the part. Still, despite his flamboyance, he liked that the boy felt a lot more positive. It was a bit of a counter to having to feel the other boy's seething. He waited for the new arrivals to finish talking and then stepped over to them.

"Sorry for listening in. I'll admit, I play D&D, and I definitely do look like the kind of person who would. This is a labcoat though. I wear it because it has a lot of pockets, and I have a bad habit of picking up random objects. Wearing a trenchcoat in this weather, though? Sounds like paying to get heatstroke. And... well... I don't think my legs are long enough to really nail the trenchcoat look."

[RacingeR]

Jill Dumont
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
​Thursday

“Hey~” she greeted lazily, a girlish lilt to her voice. There was nothing lazy on the glance he gave to all of the present.

A cop’s stare to quickly classify people. Two schoolgirls, probably the least suspicious of the group. Baseball Cap and Sports Girl, as her partner had graciously named them, looked indeed drab. They had come here either out of boredom or due to making a silly bet, or due to similar enough reasons. Still, these were also the type to maybe having seen something weird… although she wouldn’t hold her hopes up in that regard.

The two college-aged men, however, didn’t really fit Jill’s definition of drab. Linkin Park gave her bad vibes, looked like he was a bump away from snapping and landing his ass on jail. Not the type to show up to this kind of thing. Also, the type a cop would be after like a shark on a blood trail just due to that stare.

Thankfully, Jill wasn’t a cop, just a private detective, so she didn’t need to care unless he up and committed a crime right in front of her face.

Summer Trenchcoat, pardon, Labcoat… well, he looked like the kind of nerd that’d be attracted by that damn flyer. Wearing a labcoat all the way to the outing, however, was a bit odd.

And then, there came his answer to Jacob’s not-too-much-of-an-actual-whisper and Jill immediately put him down into the weirdo category. It was a bit too off-beat and strange in a way that was hard to define. Who the heck has a ‘bad habit of picking up random objects’? Aside from a kleptomaniac, of course.

“Dunno, I think your definition of weirdo is up a few notches too high.” She whispered almost inaudibly to Jacob. “The two dudes definitely fit the bill for us normal people.”

Yeah, as if Jill was anywhere near normal herself.

“Well, whatever your hobbies are, good luck with those, guy.” She replied to Summer Labcoat in a normal voice. Then, her eyes went to the man at the kiosk window, probably the one responsible for the flyer.

“So~, which one is it? Gonna assume you’re the one behind the flyer, so c’mon. Let’s see your elevator pitch.”

Maybe she was being a tad bit too negative.

[Eru Erufu]

Clemente Jackson
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Exterior
Evening
​Thursday

Arriving perhaps a tad too late given the sheer number of people already assembled, Clemente suppresses a flush of embarrassment as he takes a peek around at the already-assembled... club members? Were they club members, or just more prospects like himself. A rather eclectic group, for sure. Nowhere else had the young man ever seen an obviously gay man, a troubled teen, and a-

Holy shit.

Yeong Min

Another bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. It seemed that fanning herself wasn't doing much. Yeong elected to just take off her wombat emblazoned parka, wrapping it around her waist so she could unstick her sweaty shirt from her skin and let the evening air wash over her exposed stomach.

Holy shit holy shit soly hit!

With a gulp, Clemente adjusts the collar of his polo shirt before pushing his glasses back up into place. Down. Down! You're here to make friends!

With his goals reaffirmed and sudden flash of emotion tempered, the bespectacled young man clears his throat to address those assembled. "Ahem!" he calls out, adjusting his glasses once more. Giving each of them a smile, he continues. "Perhaps we should quiet down and let our host speak?"

Nailed it.

[Mormarth]

Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Evening
​Thursday

At the chattering and back and forth from the lot of you, the beleaguered-looking binoclard sighed lightly, looking down to mark the place in the large book he had, barely within sight, and then turned and irritably smacked the fizzed and futzing radio, silencing it.

Faintly, at the edge of hearing, you hear the dulcet tones of...

Someone singing?

"It's no gag or prank or nothin'," He said, coming to his feet and pressing a button on his wall, colored a dull red.

A slight grinding and whirring of gears then graced your ears as the gate slowly slid open, the gate permitting you entry to this sealed sanctum.

On the other side stood the man in the kiosk, only lightly slouching this time and standing a mild distance above six feet, a ring-clad hand reaching up and scratching idly at the untidy mop of brown locks.

"But you're wrong there, ace detective," He drawled, "Shit, I'm just the help."

He twirled a set of keys in one hand, casting a firmer eye alongside all of you, now that you were on equal ground, the slight tint of his glasses not quite hiding the growing bags under his eyes.

"Ramon," He.. introduced himself?

Then he turned, jerking his head, "C'mon, boss is over here."

He lazily padded across the paved lot, the only noise the dull hum of the fluorescents that lit the slowly darkening park, and, once again, the faint sound of singing.

He crossed the lot in front of you, heading to a partially-open door of a garage, colored orange.

Number 13 hung over the top.

He rapped firmly on the door, the rest of you trailing behind him.

"Yo, geezer, another gaggle here to sniff things out."

The singing stopped.

The more keen of hearing among you hear the faint rustling within the interior, on the other side of the door.

An almost silent sigh from your... guide? Co-worker?

"Always does this-"

BOOM.

Bright, burning lights lit up the dim storage area, and, over Ramon's sulfurous cursing, you are greeted by a leonine roar of-

"GOOOD EVENING, MY WONDERFUL LITTLE DUCKLINGS!"

Bright, garishly colored suit, a wild swirl of greying hair, a sharp, jutting cut of facial hair, wild eyes barely constrained behind pinkish lenses.

"I'm OH-SO-HAPPY that a healthy group of young people decided to come and help us along with this NAUGHTINESS stirring around the DREADFULLY DULL township here! My word, IT'S LIKE PEOPLE DON'T CARE ABOUT DARK AND HORRIBLE THINGS ANYMORE!"

A small pause, for your ears to ring.

"Probably because they can find it all on the news! HA HA HA!"

He was instantly recognizable.

In face, for some, in voice for most.

He stood before you, lit by neon signs that looked vaguely like they might have been discretely 'borrowed', merrily clapping hands the size of garbage lids, hooting gleefully.

Kenneth Douglas, known by his usual radio name, Kenny D, local eccentric, booming voice of the northeast occult scene, and former host of the late night radio show, Adirongdaks.

"Well! Come on then! Don't catch a chill, I've got tea on!"

Ramon shook his head, rubbing at an ear.

"He's been renting out one of the garages as place to stay, after the uh, 'incident'. It's sort of a home base, you could say."

"COME ON, COME ON, GOT TO BREAK BREAD BEFORE WE GO GALIVANTING TO GO COMMITT MULTIPLE CRIMES!"

...

"It should only be trespassing," He tilted his head, "Maybe breaking and entering, anyway, it should be fine. Probably."

[Eru Erufu]

Clemente
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Evening
​Thursday

"Gah! Jesus Chris-" Clemente stops himself before he can finish the expletive, closing his eyes and taking a very deep breath. Flowing river. Cottage by the sea. Adorable little dogs.

Initial shock calmed, Clemente reopens his eyes to confront the actual legend himself: Big D. "I was worried as to the legitimacy of this, but if Big D is running this operation..." he shrugs his shoulders, glancing over at his fellow scrawny man friends, "Gay Man" and "Generic Dude." "Well, tea then?" he asks them with an uncertain smile.

He isn't exactly good at dealing with the type of the Legendary Big D, so hopefully someone better at managing actual insanity will appear from the group.

Oh please, Lord, let someone else here deal with him.

[Bloble]

Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Evening
​Thursday

Jacob exchanges a look with Jill, satisfied even as his ears ring.

"Oh my definition of weirdo's just right, babe. Gotta separate the wheat from the chaff. Chaff, like this little eavesdropper here-." He sends a flick towards Adrian, purple fingernail soaring just past the coat-toting man's nose. "Who'd rather fight fashion itself than man up and challenge the male gaze."

He steps forward, eyes locked on the tall, boisterous man.

"-and Mr. Scrumptious Muffin here."

Jacob waves happily and follows the tall man.

"Hiiiii Kenny~. I'm your biggest fan. I've sent you like, five mix tapes! Did you say crimes? We looooove crimes."

[Sixkiller]

John Smith
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Evening
​Thursday

Jill and Jacob bounced about from their own fantastical existence into his. So idiosyncratic, so quirky, their piss probably looked like the rainbow. John Smith thought: Great, a couple of fairies.

He said, “Great, a couple of fairies.”

Kenneth Douglas interrupted the set before anything else was exchanged. John stared at the has-been: a fifty-something-year-old man coming off much younger, spikes for hair, and a banshee’s speech. He oozed a demand for attention. Typical for broadcasters—an unfortunate subset of humans that lived off claps.

John plugged his ears. “There’s no outside voice with you, huh?” Despite his own words, he followed the loud man. “This gig better pay well for the trouble.”

To Ramon he said, “Guess your boss is a little crooked, four eyes. But don’t go blurting that out.” John flicked his thumb back toward Jill. “Lady over there has five-o eyes.” He didn’t miss her short leer. “Our very own Podunk Sherlock I reckon.”

[Draconic]

Adrian Saunders
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Noise o'clock
Thursday

Wow, this guy's noisy. Not to mention, that if he was planning on doing urb-ex, he really shouldn't be shouting about it. It wasn't exactly legal. But then again, he mentioned that, too. Also loudly.

And come to think about it...

"You thought you were getting paid for this?"

He suddenly didn't care about poking the bear. He didn't see anything about a 'gig.' As far as he could tell, this was just a way to meet people while engaging in hobbies involving the paranormal. And, evidently, exploring old buildings. Possibly. If he was reading the situation correctly.

Whatever the case, as long as Adrian hadn't missed something important, the angry guy was either delusional, or intentionally setting himself up for disappointment. And considering the torrent of pain and misery pouring off of him in waves, he felt like the latter was more likely.

"Ramon, right? Is he always this loud? I... I think I can sympathize."

He gave the tired proprietor a short wave and followed Mr. Douglas into his unit.

[RacingeR]

Jill Dumont
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Evening
​Thursday

“… ‘sup, Kenny. Long time no see.” Jill said bemuse, hands going down from her ears after weathering the storm of noise.

Kenny Douglas. Also Kenny D, Big D, or plain D, for some. Well known guy, one of Fairfield’s Personalities, much like Jill herself. Quite famous within the community.

This said, she also knew him personally. Jill had been invited to his show once to discuss the strangest cases she’d seen (and Fairfield was absolutely to the fucking brim with strange, for such a small town). She’d been rather dismissive of it and only come for the exposure, she’d been in the last year of high school back then and was neck-deep on the process of building up a reputation.

But once she’d arrived, it had turned into a rather tough interview. Kenny D was a showman, but he knew his stuff, and she’d told Jacob so. She’d stuck to her bit and had only replied based on what she knew without being dismissive of the occult angle. Quite noncommittal, but it had worked. And she’d ended up admitting on air that while she didn’t actively believe into it, she wasn’t ready to discard the existence of the paranormal.

Well, she believed what her senses told her rather, and she’d never felt anything paranormal. Still, it had been one hell of a moment, particularly when the interview had turned to the disappearances and some of the cases, she’d been unable to solve.

At least, D had been a good sport and hadn’t touched the stuff with her father. That’d been messy enough without it being put back on the public consciousness. She’d had a decent impression of him, and she’d also told Jacob, a rather high evaluation.

Well, she’d been a fair bit more impressionable three-four years ago as a teen.

Either way, her eyes shone with interest as she looked at Kenny, perhaps for the first time feeling she wasn’t wasting her time here. “Should’ve thought you’d be behind something like this here.”

She gazed at the rest of the group that’d come for the flier. Last guy who had shown up seemed about the same initial-college-years age as the rest. Fairly non-descript, if weird in a way she couldn’t quite put a finger to.

“Anyway…” She didn’t really care to start trading barbs with Edgelord over there, but better to correct one misunderstanding. “If you think detective work’s all that clean, then you’ve got something else coming, guy.”

The police as an entity really wasn’t happy about many of the uh, infringements Jill got into in pursuit of a case. They had a good enough understanding as individuals and they sorta treated her as one of their own, but she mostly got away with it because she produced results and wasn’t that overt about it.

Eh, as long as it worked.

She passed him by. Hm, four-eyes might not be quite as relevant as she thought. Spanish name, though. Mexican heritage? Maybe. Might be good to poke her sources later about this R&D duo. Mostly to see what was up.

For now, she went in right after Jacob. She was quite interesting on what D had to say. Even if he was well known for dabbling in opiates. But probably not going to be a waste of her time.

At least she could hope.

[Airen]

Sarah Parker
Mickey's Long Term Storage - Interior
Evening
​Thursday

"..."

Her vaguely annoyed expression never changes.

Not when the perpetually pissed off looking guy shoots a strange gaze her way, not when the athletic looking girl started taking off her clothes for some reason, not when a strange duo had shown up and started practicing their apparent comedy routine (after all, they had to be some sort of bad joke), not even when the fool in the lab-coat admits to wearing said lab-coat because of it's abundance of pockets and some bizarre-ass habit of picking random things up off the ground...

Although that one had been a struggle, struggle to not shoot her eyebrow towards the heavens and shoot God off of his throne, but she had managed not to do so, and now...

"...Breaking and entering, huh? Cool."

Even when this crazy old-man starts trying to do his radio personality in real life, the young woman's voice remains so stoic and unshaken that it becomes difficult to tell if she even has emotions (besides annoyance perhaps) at all, a benefit at the poker tables, or when telling the police that you absolutely hadn't been inside of that warehouse an hour ago, no officer, definitely not.

"Hope you guys know how to run fast, cops in this town are quick."

Should be entertaining at least.

Way easier to escape if there's a lot of you, they can't catch everyone after all, and she was a pro at escaping the police.

Easy night.

"Although watching a group of wannabe detectives get arrested could be fun too I guess..."

She says blankly.

Grumpy, this one.