@ fiona-masked
Location: Roots Gas Station
Status: Open
Roots Gas Station was one of those strange, liminal places that seemed to put Fiona in a comfortable headspace, in much the same way that only empty places could. First, the flickering street lamps, the way they buzzed, as if they had perhaps consumed just a touch too much power for their meager purpose. Then, the emptiness of the nighttime roads, the way that the lights under the gas station overhead and the street lamps gave way to an increasing darkness the further one looked out. The dark silhouettes of creaky buildings and homes would have sent chills down the spine of a reasonable soul.
Not Fiona. She would found this to be the perfect place to take a smoke break, had it not been for the fact that there was, well, gas.
Still, she remained outside, seated on a large stool she had stolen brought from a nearby bar. It was her break, technically, not that much would have changed if it weren’t. And she was bored. It was cold, but a different kind of cold than the inside of the little mart where she was supposed to be, and on a night like this, the cold felt grounding.
It kept her alert, which was good, because she otherwise would have paid little attention or care to a new arrival, to which she, of course, responded with her best customer service voice.
“Hey there!” Fiona greeted, clasping her hands into her lap. “Will you need any help with anything? We’re still selling some powdered donuts inside. I can promise you a 50% chance that they’re not poisoned.” Ya know, laced with arsenic or something.
Reza had managed to scrape enough money to fill the tank of his bike to last for a couple more days, so he stopped by the gas station to do just that. Except, he was supposed to go earlier that day, but he had been running around errand for the Palmers in lieu of payment for letting him stay at the motel for free for the past couple of weeks. They’d asked him to work for them permanently, which he declined and said he was going to work at Otto’s. In truth, he’d rather not stay for long in this God forsaken town, but he still hadn’t found what he was here for, and he had to eat other than Catherine’s casserole.
He paid no mind to the petite woman until she mentioned about the maybe-poisonous doughnut. “Like, they give you diarrhea or somethin’?” Reza looked at her, brows furrowed together, “or are we talkin’ about poison poison, like I could potentially die poison?” He was used to eating bad food growing up, so he figured his tolerance for bad food would be pretty good. But he wasn’t immune, which was why he needed to be clear on how poisonous the doughnuts were. Diarrhea he could handle. Him being dead? Not so much.
