(no subject)

[i_am_your_host]

The door opens.

And a heavy, medium-sized box is shoved through.

And then another one right behind it, pushing it further in.

And then a traveling trunk with a Victrola phonograph on top of it.

Huffing and puffing, Emcee scoots in around the boxes and the trunk and shuts the door. He sits down on the trunk to catch his breath.

He'd seen the sign about the rummage sale and wanted to get a head start on clearing out his flat and his friends' flats. Whatever they couldn't take with them on their impending journey, they had to sell. Emcee offered to take some of their things to either donate or get a better price for, so he ended up with all this stuff.

But he's keeping his Victrola.

This is happening. Emcee is really leaving Berlin.

Comments

[hangingoutwithcrows]

"Wow." Now that is a lot of stuff. "Do you...need a hand with that? Or anything?"

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee looks up at the young woman and flicks his hair out of his eyes.

"Oh, um-- well, if you could possibly help me move them to the Bar so she can store them for safe keeping until the rummage sale, that would be wonderful, thank you!"

He gets up and starts pushing one of the boxes over in that direction.

[hangingoutwithcrows]

"No problem!"

She tries lifting one of the boxes, and then sees there's a good reason the man was pushing them. Oof. So she gets down to slide another box over to the Bar. "Is it all for the sale?"

[i_am_your_host]

No lifting. Lifting bad.

"Not all of it. I'm keeping some of what's in the trunk. Reminders of home, you know," he says with a wry but wistful little smile.

After both boxes are moved to the Bar, he grabs the handle of the trunk in an attempt to drag it.

[hangingoutwithcrows]

"Moving away? --Here, let me push from the other end--"

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman is sitting at a table, reading through pages and pages of statistical print-outs.

He turns his head when Emcee enters.

"What a nice phonograph."

[i_am_your_host]

"Oh, thank you! It would be what people from your time call vintage."

Emcee is just going to sit here for a moment before he attempts to move anything again.

"It's been a while, Father. How have you been?'

[witchfinder_general]

"Busy," Harman says. "The vampires of my world may be on the move again."

[i_am_your_host]

"Oh, dear. They've caused some new trouble?" he asks with a curious tilt of his head.

[heatherandsteel]

(OOC: Love the new icon.)

Quentin comes in right after Emcee and almost trips on a box, "Oberon's beard, boxes, really?"

They're still unpacking and probably will be forever but he didn't expect boxes here. His hair's wet from a shower as he stares down at a box.

[i_am_your_host]

"Ooh! Oh, darling, I'm so sorry, are you all right?"

Emcee gets up to push the trunk further out of the way of the door.

"I'm leaving Berlin, so these are full of things I need to sell during the rummage sale here."

[heatherandsteel]

"I'm fine. There's going to be a rummage sale? Those are always fun. Can I help you move things?"

He's used to being the muscle in the house.

[i_am_your_host]

"I saw a sign on the message board when I was here last. I thought it would be a good way to raise a little extra money.

"And thank you so much, darling, it's always good to have a strapping lad around to do the heavy lifting," he adds with a grin as he starts pushing the trunk. "We can just move them to the Bar, so I can ask her to store them for safe keeping."

[runningred]

Jay happens to be in the bar as Emcee comes in. He leaps to his feet. "Want a hand with that?"

{ooc: insto-slow}

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee is almost sprawled on top of the trunk.

"Oof! Yes, please, darling, thank you," he huffs gratefully, as he gets to his feet. "Just over to the bar will do. I'll ask her to store it all for me until the rummage sale."

[runningred]

Jay picks the trunk up and carries it to the bar with ease. "Getting ready to move or spring cleaning?"

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee picks up the Victrola before Jay hauls trunk away, and he sets it down on the bar.

"The former," he says. There's something in his voice when he replies. Something tight, a mix of apprehension, uncertainty, and even some excitement.

"Two of my friends are leaving for Sweden. Two others are leaving for America-- and I've decided to go with them."

[takingthechance]

"Oh hello, Emcee - need a hand there?" Sam offers brightly, in the bar for a bit of a break from... well. Mostly today from being hungry, as her rations are running a bit thin on her side of the door.

[i_am_your_host]

It's always a good thing to conveniently find friends on moving day! Or something like it.

Emcee's eyes lights up at the offer as he sprawls on the trunk.

"Oh, goodness, yes," he groans. "Thank you, darling. If you could just help me push these over to the Bar, that will do. Don't try to lift anything or you'll put your back out."

He gets to his feet and starts moving the trunk toward the bar.

[takingthechance]

"Right-o, won't be a bit of trouble." She smiles reassuringly - there's been years now of settling down to get things done, it's become a bit of a habit. "Here, budge up a bit. On three?" She asks as she settles in beside him.

[i_am_your_host]

"Right. One, two, three--"

And together they push the trunk across the room until it's flush against the bar and out of everyone's way.

"Fortunately the boxes are a little bit lighter and we can shift one each. You see, this is what happens when all your friends like to read, they end up with a hoard of books."

[bringspeopletogether]

From a table just to Emcee's left: "All right?"

Alistair's been watching the procession of boxes with slightly raised eyebrows; so has the seven-month-old mabari puppy at his feet. (Well, Brother Fuzzy's giving off the impression of raised eyebrows, anyway. His tail's also doing the slow, hopeful wag of a dog who really, really wants to sniff the heck out of all those boxes.)

The man hauling all the things inside looks...vaguely familiar, for some reason. Meh. Alistair's probably just seen him around the tavern in passing.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee, still taking a breather while sprawled on the trunk, looks to his left.

"Just about," he replies with a half-chuckle.

The man seems somewhat familiar as well, be he also calls it up to having seen him around the bar. The beastie puppy thing is new, though.

"These are all for the rummage sale. Well. Mostly." He puts an arm posessively around the contraption that is the phonograph. "I'm keeping this."

[bringspeopletogether]

It's a pretty weird-looking contraption. Alistair props his chin in his hand, trying to puzzle it out -- the horn part's easy enough, but why in the Maker's name it would feed into a box is beyond him. Not to mention the little dish bit atop the box.

"...I give up," he admits at last. "What is it?"

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee was wondering when he was going to ask.

He grins and chuckles again. "It's called a phonograph-- or a gramophone, depending on who you ask. It plays recorded music."

Emcee will now guess the man's follow-up questions.