In which Roscoe visits a restaurant
Who: Roscoe, anyone who wants to show up
Where: A Chinese-Vietnamese restaurant in Keystone
When: Like, nao
So Roscoe’s tummy has really been growling lately. He often doesn’t eat much as a general rule --- unless someone is taking care of him and feeding him --- but even he has limits. And man, that rat he killed and cooked (don’t tell Piper) two days ago tasted vile. So he saunters out to find some food.
“Be good, Stella,” he reminds his plant as he departs, placing a little kiss on one of her leaves. “Daddy will be home soon.”
If he could hear what she has to say, she’d tell him that his breath stinks of rat.
Wandering the streets of Keystone, he finds the food tossed into garbage cans not to his liking. Mostly rotted or half-eaten. Fortunately, just because he’s homeless doesn’t mean he has to live like it…he pretty much just chooses to, most of the time. But he has powers, and can do whatever he wants!
When he walks into the Chinese-Vietnamese restaurant, the staff and patrons are naturally rather wary of the tall scruffy homeless man with the weird glowing eyes. “I would like to eat,” he announces imperiously, and suddenly everyone is dashing over to serve him, even the patrons. Yep, mind control.
“Please choose anything you’d like from our menu!” the head waiter declares eagerly, handing him two copies for some reason. They’re just so excited to serve him!
“Thank you,” he says politely, taking a menu and looking it over. The English translations are um, not great. But that doesn’t matter, because he’s not really picky anyway. “Bring me this, this, and this, please,” he asks, pointing at various things that seem like they might be good. “And I want ten fortune cookies when I am finished. I like fortune cookies.”
“Excellent choices, sir,” the waiter replies, hurrying off to fulfill the order. Another waiter brings hot tea while he’s waiting, which is welcome after a chilly night spent sleeping in the park. His little room under the bridge provides protection from the elements, but it’s all concrete and thus fairly cold.
Soon the food has arrived, and he’s chowing down like…well, a man who hasn’t eaten much in a week. It’s a cheap restaurant of so-so quality, but the food all tastes great to him. Better than fire-roasted rat, that’s for sure. And when the food is finished --- he orders again!
Where: A Chinese-Vietnamese restaurant in Keystone
When: Like, nao
So Roscoe’s tummy has really been growling lately. He often doesn’t eat much as a general rule --- unless someone is taking care of him and feeding him --- but even he has limits. And man, that rat he killed and cooked (don’t tell Piper) two days ago tasted vile. So he saunters out to find some food.
“Be good, Stella,” he reminds his plant as he departs, placing a little kiss on one of her leaves. “Daddy will be home soon.”
If he could hear what she has to say, she’d tell him that his breath stinks of rat.
Wandering the streets of Keystone, he finds the food tossed into garbage cans not to his liking. Mostly rotted or half-eaten. Fortunately, just because he’s homeless doesn’t mean he has to live like it…he pretty much just chooses to, most of the time. But he has powers, and can do whatever he wants!
When he walks into the Chinese-Vietnamese restaurant, the staff and patrons are naturally rather wary of the tall scruffy homeless man with the weird glowing eyes. “I would like to eat,” he announces imperiously, and suddenly everyone is dashing over to serve him, even the patrons. Yep, mind control.
“Please choose anything you’d like from our menu!” the head waiter declares eagerly, handing him two copies for some reason. They’re just so excited to serve him!
“Thank you,” he says politely, taking a menu and looking it over. The English translations are um, not great. But that doesn’t matter, because he’s not really picky anyway. “Bring me this, this, and this, please,” he asks, pointing at various things that seem like they might be good. “And I want ten fortune cookies when I am finished. I like fortune cookies.”
“Excellent choices, sir,” the waiter replies, hurrying off to fulfill the order. Another waiter brings hot tea while he’s waiting, which is welcome after a chilly night spent sleeping in the park. His little room under the bridge provides protection from the elements, but it’s all concrete and thus fairly cold.
Soon the food has arrived, and he’s chowing down like…well, a man who hasn’t eaten much in a week. It’s a cheap restaurant of so-so quality, but the food all tastes great to him. Better than fire-roasted rat, that’s for sure. And when the food is finished --- he orders again!