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ataraxionlogs2012-06-22 08:19 pm
teashop) wrote in ataraxionlogs2012-06-22 08:19 pm
Entry tags:
♙ ❝ One of the privileges of running a tea sho-P. ❞
CHARACTERS: Hatter & YOU.
LOCATION: O2 garden, level ( 2. )
WARNINGS: TBA, if any!
SUMMARY: Tea. And possible horse-riding.
NOTES: In conjunction with this post!
[ The tea 'house' isn't much to look at, at least not yet, but it's green and inviting and homely, at least. There are stolen kitchen chairs, tables, and rec room couches strewn across the soft grass in the corner of one of the oxygen garden's levels, and a thick leafy canopy shielding the area from the artificial lights. A bank of other such stolen kitchen materials is wedged in between two trees and the wall; it'd taken some maneuvering to get the electronic components to hook together, but there's an electric kettle on the makeshift counter, and on the makeshift counter is a small paper specifying what kinds of teas can be made. (Next to that is a clipboard and a pen he'd lifted from engineering and one of the rec rooms, respectively, with a sign-in sheet, just for kicks.) On appropriated shelves are a row of large glass jars with the dried teas inside, labeled helpfully.
Hatter's stretched out on one of the couches with one hand hooked in a cup of jasmine tea and the other cradling his communicator; the ad's out, and Guinevere grazes in a corner, with her tack off to the side. With any luck, he'll be serving today—and if not, a little conversation wouldn't go amiss. Especially after that bloody sickness mess. If the ship's going to hell in a handbasket, Hatter's going to drink some tea before it does. ]
LOCATION: O2 garden, level ( 2. )
WARNINGS: TBA, if any!
SUMMARY: Tea. And possible horse-riding.
NOTES: In conjunction with this post!
[ The tea 'house' isn't much to look at, at least not yet, but it's green and inviting and homely, at least. There are stolen kitchen chairs, tables, and rec room couches strewn across the soft grass in the corner of one of the oxygen garden's levels, and a thick leafy canopy shielding the area from the artificial lights. A bank of other such stolen kitchen materials is wedged in between two trees and the wall; it'd taken some maneuvering to get the electronic components to hook together, but there's an electric kettle on the makeshift counter, and on the makeshift counter is a small paper specifying what kinds of teas can be made. (Next to that is a clipboard and a pen he'd lifted from engineering and one of the rec rooms, respectively, with a sign-in sheet, just for kicks.) On appropriated shelves are a row of large glass jars with the dried teas inside, labeled helpfully.
Hatter's stretched out on one of the couches with one hand hooked in a cup of jasmine tea and the other cradling his communicator; the ad's out, and Guinevere grazes in a corner, with her tack off to the side. With any luck, he'll be serving today—and if not, a little conversation wouldn't go amiss. Especially after that bloody sickness mess. If the ship's going to hell in a handbasket, Hatter's going to drink some tea before it does. ]
no subject
Yep, [ he says, matter-of-factly. After a pause to look him up and down, Hatter squints. Nope. No face coming to mind. He figures it's safest to ask: ] What can I do for you?
no subject
His hand stays perched in the air as he speaks. With his jumpsuit sleeves rolled up, his crew number is in plain sight and he lets it (and the communicator) cover half of the introductions.]
Netherlands. [With that, his gaze snaps down to meet the other's and he shoves his left hand into his pocket, only to hold out his right.] I work here. [A jerk of his head to one side, out, meaning here in the gardens.]