Weeks in the past, but not many [closed to Maxwell]

[takethatnature]

Who: Wilson and Maxwell
When: July 24th, post-revival
Where: The Promenade, and Stellar later
What: Attempts at science and a dinner hate-date
Warnings: A sprinkling of post-excursion-death trauma, blackrom nonsense, anything else in threads as they come up

Wilson's had a busy afternoon. Max Maximum gave him enough potatoes for a full party of survivors or one gluttonous strongman to face down the Dragonfly, and Wilson's combined it with a bug net (in case there's something bug-sized and airborne in the Tommy Bahama), two different kinds of small animal trap, plenty of weapons and armor, the fencing sword that rotates shelves, and a collection of luggage straps and souvenir lanyards from Sundries and Bric A Brac to supplement his dwindling supply of grass rope.

He's on the Promenade at the scheduled time, waiting for Maxwell. The agreement was to meet in the Tommy Bahama, but instead he's in the middle of the hall outside it, sitting in a chair he dragged over from the Drunken Sailor. He's looking out at the passers-by for his companion's silhouette, rather than into the shop.

Comments

[freedomsuitsme]

Maxwell arrives right on time, looking somewhat sullen.

"Not a single pith hat on this whole blasted boat, how are we supposed to do this properly? Who knows what the humidity is like in certain regions of the... ah, Higgsbury. Trying to avoid running afoul of the Tomahamanian fauna right out the gate?" he asks, alluding to Wilson keeping a sane and healthy distance from the shopfront.