in Just spring
Who: Lollipop Jones and OPEN!!
Where: The Clinic
When: 4AM
Summary: Lollipop is in the clinic (along with a dead Castiel and a dozing Evelynn) being herself
Rating: PG to R, depending on who shows up
The clinic was quiet. Despite the daily griping of its inhabitants, World's End seemed mercifully free of daily injury. When it rained in this town, it poured, but at least it wasn't pouring, yet. As such, when four in the AM rolled around, Lollipop had folded, re-folded, rolled, unrolled, and re-rolled all the bandages the clinic had to offer; arranged the few medical instruments that called the clinic home in ascending, then descending alphabetical order; and found a half-dozen places, none of them entirely satisfactory, for the potted plant she'd been kind enough to bring to work.
The plant was a small, stunted thing, but Lollipop had found an amicable container, and had cheerfully babied the clump of green as lovingly as she could. So far, it was rewarding her by not dying. Unlike one of the other two of the clinic's current residents, who had stayed quite distinctly dead, despite her best efforts. Lolli had even nonchalantly peeked in after seemingly having forgotten that Castiel was doing a remarkable impression of a doornail, a cinematic technique that all of American film said should have worked.
Hope sprung eternal, however, and Lollipop was about as hopeful as they came. She checked in on him often, but her Grace showed only two other living things in the place, and one of them was definitely flora. Evelynn had been dozing on and off and accounted for the other living creature in Lollipop's divinely granted awareness.
After getting permission from her boss that yes, it was alright, and no it wouldn't be a bother, Lollipop spent her time alternating between softly singing to her little plant and writing what bits of poetry she could remember from Earth. The Beatles were on the auditory menu, e.e. cummings on the literary one. Being raised by hippies meant Lollipop had depressingly large gaps in her education, but it did encourage a rather more artistic bent than was probably healthy. Lollipop liked cummings - he made good sense.
Where: The Clinic
When: 4AM
Summary: Lollipop is in the clinic (along with a dead Castiel and a dozing Evelynn) being herself
Rating: PG to R, depending on who shows up
The clinic was quiet. Despite the daily griping of its inhabitants, World's End seemed mercifully free of daily injury. When it rained in this town, it poured, but at least it wasn't pouring, yet. As such, when four in the AM rolled around, Lollipop had folded, re-folded, rolled, unrolled, and re-rolled all the bandages the clinic had to offer; arranged the few medical instruments that called the clinic home in ascending, then descending alphabetical order; and found a half-dozen places, none of them entirely satisfactory, for the potted plant she'd been kind enough to bring to work.
The plant was a small, stunted thing, but Lollipop had found an amicable container, and had cheerfully babied the clump of green as lovingly as she could. So far, it was rewarding her by not dying. Unlike one of the other two of the clinic's current residents, who had stayed quite distinctly dead, despite her best efforts. Lolli had even nonchalantly peeked in after seemingly having forgotten that Castiel was doing a remarkable impression of a doornail, a cinematic technique that all of American film said should have worked.
Hope sprung eternal, however, and Lollipop was about as hopeful as they came. She checked in on him often, but her Grace showed only two other living things in the place, and one of them was definitely flora. Evelynn had been dozing on and off and accounted for the other living creature in Lollipop's divinely granted awareness.
After getting permission from her boss that yes, it was alright, and no it wouldn't be a bother, Lollipop spent her time alternating between softly singing to her little plant and writing what bits of poetry she could remember from Earth. The Beatles were on the auditory menu, e.e. cummings on the literary one. Being raised by hippies meant Lollipop had depressingly large gaps in her education, but it did encourage a rather more artistic bent than was probably healthy. Lollipop liked cummings - he made good sense.