WEEK THREE: MONDAY AFTERNOON, THE DINER

[parodeity]

[ as promised last week but never gotten around to, this time dave goes off directly after lunch to the diner with violet baudelaire.

he's still just as weirdly quiet as he has been of late, as he fiddles with the jukebox to try to pick a tune, but he does say: ]

Did you ever get that picture, by the way?

Comments

[parodeity]

[ look...at least he's being careful-ish of his injuries, okay. ]

Well, thanks? I mean. I also like it when bad things do not happen to me, although I prefer them to happen to me rather than to other people? But like...I do plan to go open a door after this. And I did not...write a letter. Shit. Can you wait for like five minutes while I do?

[inventurous]

[ if he's not she'll frown at him!! ]

Hmm, gee, that sure sounds like something a good person would say. [ SHE'S JUST SAYING ] Okay, sure, go ahead. I'll be right over here.

[ she will just... stand here, as he does that. ]

[parodeity]

[ she gets to see dave making. various faces. before he finally comes up with a letter that he folds up several times and writes "total bullshit" across the outside of.

it's all done on some paper from the inn, with one of his many red ballpoint pens.

at one point he simply scribbles something out for like three minutes straight while looking frustrated.

so. THIS IS AN ENCOURAGING THING TO HAND TO VIOLET, SURELY. ]

...Anyway. That's...yeah. I'll grab it back from you tonight or tomorrow mornin' and then we can like, burn it or somethin' if we can get the staff to give us matches?

[inventurous]

[ violet, standing near the jukebox, waiting: he's writing something stupid, isn't he.

but she takes it, eyebrows raising at the title on the front. she'll gently tuck it into the pocket with her siblings' picture, safe and sound. ]

That sounds good. I'm sure we could make a fire even without matches. It'll be fun.

[parodeity]

[ SHUT UP IT IS ELOQUENT AND yeah he already regrets giving it to her, looking at the letter disappearing into her pocket mournfully but. you know. ]

Like with sticks and doin' the whole boy scout thing with blowin' on them?

[inventurous]

[ too late too take it back now. ]

That's not quite what I thought, but sure. We can be boy scouts. That's probably easier than making a striker and our own matchsticks.

[parodeity]

...How do you make a striker and matchsticks?

[ lord help him he actually sounds curious. ]

[inventurous]

Hm, well.

[ she almost ties up her hair but instead her hands just twitch. she is not building this for real. right now, anyway. ]

Matches are just wood or stiff paper, and the end is just something that can be ignited. I'm not entirely sure what they're supposed to be made of, but it'd just have to be something that can create flame when struck against the striking surface. It's all about the friction, I think? They're probably coated in phosphorus or something, but I would think we could make something that works... Or I wonder if we could ask for the phosphorus if we could find the wood or paper ourselves...

Um. Rubbing sticks together is definitely easier, though.

[parodeity]

I mean, I'm not sure they'd give us phosphorous, either, though we can ask.

[ he's mostly amused, now. ]