Shoving Off

The evening was surprisingly warm, and this particular area of the falls was very easily forgotten about, left behind in the pungent stench, and so, easily avoided. Set at one place in particular, deep within the yawning shadow of the rather imposing buildings was a rather beautiful show of a ship. It passed for professional easily, what with it's smooth and glossed wood and perfectly kept metal. It was large enough for the entire crew--and perhaps then some--with quite the massive amount of storage room. Only those that knew of the ill-fated name of the ship--Alexandria--were aware of just what that ship was, and what it had been through. It had served the pirate well over nearly two decades of pillaging, plundering, and even dipping, for it was surprisingly sturdy and could handle not just the acrid acid rain of the surface, but the rolling mists that ate away at even the strongest of armors. And again, it would serve well..for more reasons than one. Within it's chassis was a secondary, smaller ship, perhaps large enough for three--maybe four people in a tight squeeze--in case an escape was necessary, and this, too, was reinforced to withstand the harshest of weather below the cloud shelf. However, the steering mechanism was entirely new, rather than a wheel there was a deep groove, perhaps large enough for one to stick their upper arm in, and besides the myriad of meters show yaw, pitch, roll, altitude, latitude and longitude (as well as about 10 other 'tudes' in which the words were written in a foreign language), there seemed no other mode of locomotion.


Nobody would be stealing this ship.


But, Ah, finally, the time had come. With the final adjustments to the ship, they were ready to go. All he had to do now was count off the crew and make sure those that said they'd be here were here. He held in his gloved hands a small sheet of paper, with only names, though they were written in a language that was most certainly not Tottian. Not that it mattered, the pirate read them just fine. In any case, he had his own reasons for planning this little outing, and not anybody would stop him. However, at the same time, his hedonistic delight in dipping spurned him onward, and he leaned against the side of the ship with an absent grin made almost placid upon his features.

Now, to check everybody off as they arrived.

And then burn that bitch to ashes.

Meet n' Greet

Aha, of course the time came for him to return to Dagenham. It'd been a while--not since he'd last visited Layla, maybe? In any case, he did have a few shops to check on--Olives, for one, and his own warehouses. After all, it was one of the best places to keep things you didn't want found.

Today he dressed himself in his usual clothes--the ones Ailms wouldn't normally let him out of the house in if he saw him wearing them, a loose-fitting and somewhat tattered off-white chemise with a button-down vest that was more than a little worn, a pair of gloves with the palms so used that they'd grown discolored and pants that were clinging to his hips by sheer luck, patched, worn and oil-stained to the utmost degree. But more than anything, he actually tied his hair back today, braiding it loosely and tying the end with the normal, pale powder-blue ribbon. But his clothing was besides the fact! Fact was, the pirate was feeling decidedly less pleasant than usual, even though he was perfectly ready to help those in need in Dagenham, hence visiting the shops.

Not that he was expecting to meet someone new today, but...well, things happened.

Familial Obligations

They were on a mission--a mission of grave importance.

Grocery shopping.

Desmond normally went shopping with Ailms, though the pescid was day-blind anyway and now he had an excuse to stay home and watch the baby, and so, he'd been going it alone the past few months. That wasn't to say he was bad at shopping, he just...wasn't good at keeping himself on track and often ended up with WAY more than they'd originally needed. But now, he had Jules, and maker damn it, he was going to contribute to this household in some way and if that meant he'd have to be dragged on a shopping excursion, then so be it!

Ailms had given him the gal to get food, and he held it with him in a little pouch tucked into his pocket--go ahead and try to pickpocket him, and see how far you got.
He strode along beside Jules, physically having to pull his steps since he was so much taller than the younger male, and as a result, ended up being quite a few strides ahead of him if he didn't pay attention. As Layla put it, he was a good head and shoulders taller than 98% of Tot's population--and his demeanor was far different now as well. When in his shop, he as clearly a businessman with the ability to sell dirt to a hobo. While home? Doting.

Out in public?

The snarl he gave to someone who walked just a tad too close was more than enough to have them think twice about treading that walkway again. He was, in no way at all, very good with social situations unless he got something out of it. Poor Jules--he was now in charge of keeping Desmond on a tether.

Good luck.

Familiarity

Desmond was not often in this area, but he had come to the conclusion that he required a few extra bits and bobs for an ongoing project. A personal one, finally, as he'd been so very busy with a few others and strategic planning had been beginning to burn him out. He hadn't even ventured out of his house in such a long while!
Well, Ailms' house rather, but that was semantics. Anyway, off he went, actually requiring something from the rather spacious botanical gardens. Not that anyone would really mind him snipping and clipping a few plants, right? After all, some people on Tot had a green thumb, certainly it wasn't real cause for panic.

And, in his defense, he wasn't ripping things up from the roots and stuffing the entire plant into sacks, like he'd originally intended. As of late, he'd been a bit distracted between various projects, both personal and otherwise, and had little time to actually get up and out--and even now, he attempted to enjoy the outside but he could only worry about the matter at hand, the though drawing his expression into a thin line as he pressed his scarred lips together. "Fuckin' 'ell, 'ow 'ard is it to find three plants?" he grumbled to himself, peering through the ferns and leaves. He had picures and the scientific names for it, but common names? Of course not. And to his botanically un-trained eye, alot of these damn things all looked the same!

Cake Wrecks

Alright.

It was time to do something....nice.

Ailms had implored Desmond be nice to Jules and make friends, and as he'd oh so bluntly told the younger man with assistance from the Nubbin', he would do his best to try to make friends.
Unfortunately, Desmonds' approach to making friends was much the same way as his approach to telling someone he liked them-- rough.

The kitchen had been scrubbed spotless after Ailms' last job and because it was daylight, the pescid would most likely be sticking to the pool, and so Desmond felt he had some alone time with the other hand on a purely personal basis. And so, he'd wasted little time in meandering up to Jules' room and flipping his entire mattress over and dumping the man, blankets, sheets and pillows to the floor in a majestic display of carelessness. "RISE AND SHIIIINNNEEE. We're going to make BREAKFAST today!" he sang--actually sang.

Surprisingly enough, he had a lovely voice. But that was besides the point--the point was he was way too chipper for it to be first thing in the morning," Get up or I'll rub my arm in your face! You have ten minutes to be downstairs and washing your hands before I come up and drag you!"

And that said, the man cantered back down the stairs to the kitchen.

Flour, eggs, sugar, baking soda, salt, and a startling array of fruits and yeast had all been laid out, spread around the kitchen with bowls and spoons and a pistol-- whoops.
He tucked the gun back into the belt of his pants and rolled his sleeves up.

Yes, today, he was going to be nice!