[Mayfield 2] - Complacency [open to all]

[vertulpen]

[Phone]

Has anyone ever quit their job?

[A: At work]
[For the past several days, he's been rather dutiful at the pharmacy.  Even though he didn't remember having worked here before, the other people there, particularly the drones, acted like he'd been there for years.  Needless to say, it wasn't exactly the job he'd choose for himself.  Still, it

Comments

B

[poisonivyforyou]

[Ivy pokes his shoulder]

Can I help you?

haha, best flower shop ever.

[vertulpen]

[She definitely didn't look like a drone, so he answers honestly.]

Just trying to see the selection.

isn't it~

[poisonivyforyou]

That depends. Do you have time to take care of them? Do you want them for a garden, or as a decoration inside your house?

[She hates when people hurt the plants by choosing the wrong one to take care off]

Re: isn't it~

[vertulpen]

[What an interesting thing to ask.]

Garden. I'm not a novice.

A

[taegeuk]

You're behind the counter, too?

[vertulpen]

'fraid so.

. . . didn't expect to see you here too.

[But it was nice to see another nation.]

[taegeuk]

Oh, yeah? Well a lot of us here! Not here here--y'know, behind the counter. But around and stuff!

[vertulpen]

Like who?

D.

[notmiddleearth]

[Seeing as Mayfield's decided to give New Zealand the job of a stay at home mother, she's found herself with a lot of free time. So she's taken to exploring the town, seeing if she can find anything interesting. Today it's just walking the streets, New Zealand wandering around at her own pace, Censor the sheep following along behind her.

In her own world, she doesn't notice Holland at first, walking straight past him. As she passes his house, she finally realises, stopping and turn back to double check, looking over his front fence. Meanwhile, Censor starts to nibble on a few stray flowers, deciding they'd make the best of snacks.]

Holland?

[vertulpen]

[Why was there a sheep suddenly in his yard? And oh no you don't]

Hey! HEY.

You'll pay for those in hide, sheep. Whose sheep is this?

[He attempts to coax and shove the sheep off of his lawn before he realizes somebody else is there and recognizes New Zealand.]

New Zeeland?

[notmiddleearth]

[Giving you the biggest glare face ever pops/uncle/big bro/whatever you are,are we even related? ever...

You threatened Censor.

...Be glad you were just thrown through your front window]

Yeah. And you take that back right now, and apologise to Censor. It's just a few flowers, and he doesn't need to pay anything, does he?

[vertulpen]

If he needs to eat something, he should eat the grass so I don't have to mow the lawn.

[The most stubborn face, right now. But then he sighs.]

No, he doesn't have to pay.

But that means I'm not apologizing to a sheep.

C

[a_gentle_boy]

[Lucas on top of his walking table is a relatively common sight around Mayfield by now. He doesn't think much of galloping up behind the Netherlands and giving him a meek smile and a wave.]

[vertulpen]

[Oh hey, it was that nice kid again. This of course is overshadowed by the fact that the table is one of the strangest things he's ever seen. He waves, slowly, and nearly crashes into a fire hydrant.]

[a_gentle_boy]

[Noooooo what is he doing Lucas will blanche a little and reach out to pull ineffectually on his sleeve or something.]

Mr. Netherlands! Be more careful!

[vertulpen]

[He does manage to stop himself, feet dragging on the ground. The handlebar in his diaphragm doesn't feel so good, but he takes it with a grunting wheeze.

The flowers are fine.]

What is . . . what is that?

B

[pasodoble]

( ( Guess who else is here, Netherlands? Spain is poking around the store, looking at the seed selection. He isn't paying attention at all so it's no surprise that he might back into to you riiiight abooout now. ) )

Huh, sorry!

[vertulpen]

. . .

[He goes a bit rigid; of course he'd probably recognize that voice no matter what was going on, so he looks over his shoulder at Spain.]

Clod.

[pasodoble]

What? Ah, Holanda! You're here too? Hey, I looked for you last time.

[vertulpen]

Last time . . . ?