kore_logs | we'll open up a restaurant in santa fe

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we'll open up a restaurant in santa fe

Who: Reconstruction Club and whoever wants to come by to visit.
When: um... let's say a backdated Day 79 through Day 81? This could be flexible, too.
Where: The semi ruined diner.
What: Cleaning the diner site! Rebuilding the diner! Eating lunch/taking breaks!

The first day, Day 79 Dean's learned from the people who've been here the longest, is mostly spent doing the menial stuff -- making the site workable and cleaning it up a bit, and then training some of the people less familiar with what's going on, figuring out who should handle what and what's safe.

After that it's a matter of slowly getting everything together. Checking the foundation, fixing up the floor, rebuilding the walls, patching the roof. There's some electrical work to figure out and be careful with because some of the equipment is salvageable, so the wiring has to be checked, that kind of thing.

Dean, Erik, and Tony dole out the orders, keep an eye on everyone. Their supplies are what they've managed to gather or whatever people might've brought in.

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Dean's sweating and sore, though the latter at least partially from the day before, back to back scouting and reconstruction. That probably wasn't the best idea, but the alternative was sitting around and feeling like crap and worrying about shit he can't fix right now. He really needs to do more to find a way home, and he's ashamed of himself that he hasn't been working harder at that. He did at first, but then that trickster mess really screwed everything up in more ways than he can count. He can't sit around feeling sorry for himself about it anymore; now he just needs to repair it and move on.

But working outside, building something, that helps. He doesn't feel any better, but he can get out some of the frustration and confusion and pain of loss as he puts something back together again. It's not his car by any freaking means, but it's something.

He sits on the chair and leans back for a second, getting his breath, before he picks up his water and takes a long drink.

"Go ahead and take lunch if you haven't," he calls out. He has food under his chair, but he needs to decompress a minute first.

The escape attempt, if nothing else, has convinced Fortescue that she should be less secretive with her magic. No one else from her world appears to be here, and they wouldn't be able to press laws against her anyway. Being a magus isn't much help to anyone if she keeps it out of sight. She's feeling much better than the few days before, and has traded her pin-striped trousers for a scavenged pair of jeans. She has to use a scavenged belt, since they don't fit quite right, but the jeans are on and the coat is off as she helps the rest of the reconstruction crew.

Mostly, it's her Blood magic that she uses the most, moving objects that are too unwieldy or difficult otherwise. (Lighting things on fire, or opening up dimensions, really doesn't help them at all.) She can move things up to eight hundred pounds without breaking a sweat, tendrils snaking up from shadows at the corner of the diner to support whatever is needed. Things are slightly brighter as she uses her abilities, her magic reassigning shadows for a few moments each use, and she holds her hand outward to direct the heavy bits of rubble.

About when it's time to break, each day, she has the beginning of a headache from repeated usage. But it's worth it, to be using her magic on something constructive for once. She sits back and looks at the sky, snacking on whatever's available at the time.

Fortescue is taking a break herself when she hears Dean's voice, and decides to wander over to see how one of their Fearless Leaders is doing. Working doesn't really give them much time for small talk. Making sure she doesn't hammer nails through her skin is a little more important. She leans against the back of his chair with a hand, smiling.

"Hello, love."

Donna isn't part of the reconstruction club - she's pretty sure they want a structure that isn't going to fall down again instantly and her building skills are a bit rubbish. Only thing she was ever any good at building with as a kid was Lego. She once tried a model aircraft kit with her grandad... it ended in a gluey mess and dropped to bits.

But, just because she isn't on the team doesn't mean she can't help in some way. It might not be construction work, but she is sure to provide drinks throughout the day - tea, coffee, water, squash. She's even managed to make a few cakes and found some biscuits in the back of the cupboard. The workers need something to keep them going!

At the age of forty-six, the knees start to put in a protest under excessive stress, and the back is just a little more fragile. Nonetheless, Rat has been helping to move and shift and haul, and when a beam moves past him apparently on air, he can't help but stop in his own work and stare a little. It takes him a minute to figure out who's doing it.

He waits until she's sat down for a break, though, before he fetches a couple of drinks and comes over to offer her one. "Feeling any better?"

The first day, Rat is late because he's been helping over at the community garden, or what will be a garden once they're done with it. He doesn't hesitate to dive in, though, offering his skills and experience in construction and helping to clear debris. He's no architect, but taking day labor jobs has taught him some basics, and he never could help asking questions about whatever anyone on the construction sites would teach him.

By the second day he's on the lookout for caffeine, and by midday he's slowed down a little. He's been throwing himself into the manual labor, and his knees and back are starting to complain about it. Dean's suggestion gives him permission to sit down for a minute.

"Much," Fortescue answers with a smile, accepting the drink. "Thank you."

Jazz is some distance away, flopped in the sun, but still within the tether range. They've been very careful about it, lately, ever since gaining the knowledge that it would take longer to heal than usual.

"It's already looking a lot better in here."

You can only drink so much water, even when you're working hard, before something the idea of having something else becomes much more appealing. Fortescue notices that there's tea about and, relieved, pours herself a mug, making note of Donna's presence nearby. They haven't met in person yet, and her hair is a brighter shade of red than it looked on the wrist comms.

Not that such tiny little screens should be considered reliable.

She snags herself a biscuit, too, and flops nearby with a pleased sigh. "You're a savior, Donna."

"I like to be useful when I can be. And I'm pretty sure they want the diner to survive a light breeze, so building probably isn't my thing. At least tea is a thing I can do." Donna smiles.

"It's nice to meet you face to face. Fortescue, isn't it?"

Her voice is pretty unmistakable, and he looks up at her, already smiling. He's been using his For the Public Persona, the one he slipped into when he was with Lisa, and it wasn't that horribly far from the truth. It still isn't, but his smiles never quite seem genuine. He usually pastes it over with a veneer of seeming like he's flirting, or something like that.

"Hey, McFly." He nods at the seat next to him. "Gonna take a load off? Still got all your fingers and toes?"

"That's me," she confirms, smiling. "It's nice to see you, as well. These things can be nice"—she flexes the wrist that the comm is fixed to—"but they're no real substitute for face-to-face conversations."

Fortescue supposes that she should be used to it by now. After all, her lot in life was to be cooped up in an old house for a week and then unleashed for the same amount of time. But now that she's here, and can talk to others, she's finding that she vastly prefers being in the same room with her conversation holder.

"Anyway, we'd probably all expire without refreshments, even if the weather isn't so bad."

"For the moment," she chuckles, sitting down with a graceful flourish. Wearing jeans is still something that she's getting used to, on the whole. "I have high hopes to keep them. Looks like you still have all of yours." Then she favors him with an amused look. "McFly?"

Face-to-face definitely trumps teeny tiny communication devices. For one thing face-to-face conversations have much more likelihood of hugs, and hugs are always the best!

"Tea, the essence of life. Fuelling workers for generations."

He glances around, and does take note of where Jazz is, since he's learned they're never far apart. "It is... a lot of work to go, but we've pretty much cleared the ground for it."

He takes a gulp, massaging his back absently as he surveys the place, then asks, "May I join you?"

The first time he comes by the refreshments, which is pretty late in the day, Rat gives the woman running it a friendly and grateful smile. "This looks fantastic, thanks! What would we do without you?"

"I'm certain the Empire wouldn't have come into existence without it," she half-jokes in return. Hell, maybe an interesting batch of tea had inspired the designer of the Angel Gate. Who could say for sure?

"You have to ask?" she teases him warmly, nodding next to her. "Of course. I hope we have enough cooks to make this place work well. My roommate can cook up a storm, but the only thing I can do is make tea. And... sandwiches."

"Oh, I dunno... die a slow death from thirst?" She's joking and the smile she gives him proves it. "It's nothing much, just a little sommat to keep the workers fuelled up."

She motions to the remainder of the cake and biscuits. "Help yourself."

Who knows for sure just what bright ideas have been formed over a good cup of tea? It's the mystery of life - well, one of the mysteries of life. Donna laughs and refills Fortescue's mug. "Very true."

"Thank you." Fortescue takes another long sip, feeling herself coming back to life already. "So, how have you been? You weren't injured in the fires, I hope?"

"No injuries here. A friend was injured. And my best mate vanished. But me? Nah, I'm fine. Always alright, me." She smiles, it doesn't reach her eyes though.

"What about you? Unharmed I hope?"

Smiling back, sympathetically, she reaches out to squeeze Donna shoulder gently, before her hand retreats again. They don't know each other that well yet, true, but she can guess from previous conversations how close she and the Doctor had been. Losing someone is losing someone.

"Nothing that didn't grow back," she replies. Making it sound more like a joke than anything else, even if it's the truth. "I'm glad you were all right."

Donna appreciates the concern and the comforting gesture. The Doctor had screwed up but he was still her best mate and she still misses him a lot, not to mention her worrying about him constantly.

"I'm glad you're in one piece too."

"Yeah, these ol' things." He glances over his hands like he's counting his fingers or reminiscing on the good times, and he and his hands have had some good times. Mind-gutter-worthy ones and not.

He licks his lips before he says what's coming next, and he's pretty happy about this line, too.

"I'm pretty attached."

His smile falls though when she doesn't recognize the nickname. Seriously?!

"Oh, come on. Not one of those universes you hopped into told you that?" He refuses to accept that the movie's no longer popular in the future. That's just not a future Dean wants to be a part of.

He gets a smile for the joke, though most jokes would amuse her at the moment. She's tired, what with the work and that nagging pain in the back of her mind — like an itch she can't scratch.

"I've only been to the one universe, darling, other than this one. And that was a business trip." Fortescue raises an eyebrow, wondering what popular things she'd be disappointed didn't exist in other universes. "You can be the first to enlighten me."

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we'll open up a restaurant in santa fe

Day 80

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Day 80

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