2020-08-25: The Laundry Whisperer
| The Laundry Whisperer | |
|---|---|
| Two unsuspecting technomages meet and talk over laundry. | |
| IC Date | August 25th, 2020 |
| IC Time | ~10:30am to noon-ish |
| Players | Vic Rasmussen and Vivian |
| Location | Fifth Third Strip Mall Laundry Mat |
Its mid-morning on the 25th of August and Vic is in the Laundry Mat at the Fifth Third Strip Mall. She's sitting on a folding camp stool near an operating washing machine with her laptop quite appropriately in her lap. Others are moving around doing their laundry as well but she's pretty focused on what ever project she's working on.
A string of sotto voce profanity can be heard as the door to the laundromat opens and a person wrestling with an overstuffed duffelbag muscles her way inside. The drab green cloth cylinder doesn't appear heavy (which is concealing the face of the one holding it) so much as merely unwieldy as the person struggling with it props open the door with a knee before doing a sort of shuffling pirouette spin to finally enter fully. With a heavy breath, the person in question drops the bag and leans on it, revealing her blonde short-cropped hair and triangular face. She earns a bit of a stare from several of the patrons and offers up a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of her neck. "Haven't done laundry lately," she says to the room by way of explanation before hefting up the sack again and trudging towards one of the machines.
Vic, who's machine is near the entrance, looks up from her laptop as the blonde enters and nods to her. "Good reason to be at a laundry mat then," she says, managing to do so without sounding snarky in the process. She nods towards a machine across the isle and two down from hers and says, "Used that one, it works for sure."
The blonde stops on being addressed, turning her attention to the speaker before her eyes follow the nod towards the aforementioned machine. Vivian flashes a broad smile and gives a happy nod. "Thanks!" she says, "It always sucks to get the machine that doesn't work. And eats your quarters. And maybe sprays scrungy water all over you for good measure." That... rather specific description given, the woman drags her clothing bounty over to the indicated machine and begins to pile articles inside it.
A lot of it is similar fare to what she's currently wearing -- there's very little color to most of it and the choices tend towards the pragmatic. That said, there are a few oddities: a red dress, a blue dress, and, strangely, several articles of men's boxers.
Having stuffed a load of clothes into the washer, she adds one of those little Tide pods, closes the door, and digs around in her pocket for some quarters. As she starts chunking in the cash, she takes another look at the woman who pointed her to the machine and spies the little fold out seat. "Oh, snap!" she exclaims, nodding to the seat, "That's a great idea! I wish I thought of that myself."
"I still had it packed in my bag from a recent hiking trip," Vic says, tapping a bag situated between her and the bottom of the machine her clothes are in with her foot, "So it wasn't as if it was any grand plan or anything like that." The machine then sputters as it sprays water into itself as it is beginning the first rinse cycle. "There's an outdoors shop on... where was it..." she interrupts herself to click into a new browser tab and do a quick search, "Yeah, near Maple and Belvedere. I bet they carry it, but mine I brought with me to Prospect."
"Still a great idea, even if it was an eureka of the moment rather than a premeditated thought," Vivian replies with a grin, "Adaptability is key in doing laundry. And most things in life, I think." The woman nods as she listens to the directions before flashing another wide smile and giving a thumbs up. "Maple and Belvedere. Thanks! I'll have to check that out. I'm a bit new to town, so I'm still learning where things are." The boisterous blonde pauses briefly before offering up a sheepish, lopsided smile, "Oh, sorry. I didn't introduce myself, did I? I'm Vivian. Pleased to meet you, Matron of the Laundromat." Her head cants backward for a moment in thought, "Or maybe Laundry Whisperer?" She shakes her head quickly and returns her gaze to the other woman, "Anyway, pleased to make your acquaintance."
Vic immediately responds with a hearty laugh at the new title. Then, with a mock frown, asks, "Do you really think I'm old enough to be a matron?" before smiling again then saying, "I'm Vic," as a simple response to the other's introduction as she closes the browser tab without looking at the screen and then returns her gaze to the screen and her work in a way that somehow doesn't come across as closing down the conversation - must be a practiced skill.
"Vic," Vivian parrots, nodding and tilting her head slightly, "Short for 'Victoria', I guess?" A wry smile winds over her lips as she shakes her and crosses her arms over her chest. "Oh, no, ma'am. You absolutely do not look old enough to be a 'matron'. That's sort of why I reconsidered it; I was just following the thought process down from 'wise woman' and it was the first word that came to mind." The blonde peers over at the laptop and a quizzical expression spreads over her features for a moment before suddenly disappearing into one of realization. "Oh, neat case mod," she says, motioning to the 'Tandy' logo, "Did you make that yourself or did you find an old Tandy computer and take the branding off?"
"Yeah, you can consider it to be a custom job," Vic replies somewhat disingenuously to the question. "I like the term Laundry Whisperer," she says to attempt a change of subject and adds, "Might get a shirt made just to wear on laundry days!" She taps a few more keys, perhaps saving something, and then closes the laptop after initiating a shut down. Moments later, as the glowing T on the back goes dark, she slides it into the bag. She follows this up with, "I'm much better with electronics and computers than with mechanical beasts like this thing," indicating that she's speaking about the washing machine by tapping it with her elbow as she closes the flap on the bag.
"Cool," Vivian says in reply to the 'custom job' comment on the computer. But it seems the topic of conversation change was successful as the short-haired blonde grins broadly and winks, "Hey, be my guest. It'd be hilarious to see that on a shirt." Quiet laughter rolls out from Vivian at the mention of the mechanical beast that is the washing machine. "Oh, I hear ya there, sister. I know a bit about mechanics, but I'm definitely better with electronics myself." She nods towards the laptop again, "If you don't mind me asking, are you a web designer? Programmer?"
Vic says, "Yes," initially with obviously playful snark intended for humor and then, a bit more seriously, clarifies by saying, "A little bit of both," just as the rinse cycle on her machine finishes and it beeps. From an outside pocket of her bag Vic extracts two 'waterproof' sacks - one dark red and intentionally grabbed and the other black faded to the point of almost looking gray which was dragged out of the pocket along with the red one accidentally. After shoving the 'black' sack back into the pocket she opens the one she was getting and pulls the wet clothes - a pair of jeans, an olive drab jacket, two gray shirts and a number of unmentionables - into it and stands. "Gotta go find a dryer now, I think I figured out one that is /actually/ a dryer to use even," she explains as she picks up her bag (paranoid much?) and then slings the slightly damp sack of laundry.
"I figured as much," Vivian says, nodding, "You don't find too many people with retro logo case mods who just use their computer for video chat and porn." The blonde does look curiously at the black bag, but doesn't say anything about it. Instead, she glances around the laundromat with purses lips and a furrowed brow, as if she could figure out where the dryers are by sheer willpower. "If you want to hide a tree, put it in a forest," she murmurs to herself before her eyes widen and she snaps her fingers, "Aha! Look at the controls. They'd have to be at least a -little- different, right? Different machines do different things require different control surfaces." She glances back and forth, "Though I can't tell if any of the driers will actually -work-. And why the hell are -all- the machines the same terrible color? This whole place is like the early nineteen sixties threw up after a hell of a bender."
Vic nods as she sets down her bag before emptying the sack into the dryer and tossing the now inside out bag into the machine as well. "Yeah, I found this place during a morning walk and was so glad that I didn't have breakfast at first," she explains and then adds, "I had spied out that one as a backup," pointing to another dryer immediately next to hers.
"Oh, sweet!" Vivian states cheerily, the backup dryer having been pointed out, "Assuming yours isn't a dud, I'll take that one." She grins impishly and winks, "Thank you for your scouting, Laundry Whisperer." The blonde leans against her machine as it rumbles disconcertingly -- probably the bearings are nearly kaput -- as she takes another wincing look around the mismatched interior, "Honestly? I just looked online for the cheapest laundry in town. I don't even think this place has a website; I just found it mentioned on a message board."
Vic grins at the nickname and says, "Definitely need to find a way to get a t-shirt that says that," as she slots her quarters and proceeds to whoop with joy as the machine starts up. "Yeah, I found a mention of this on a board in the halls of the apartment building I'm staying at," she adds.
"Maybe include a little picture of a washing machine with a halo on the shirt?" Vivian suggest with an amused tugging on her lips, "Maybe below the text?" More laughter rumbles out of the blonde at the whoop of joy and the machine coming to life. "Looks like you have a winner!" Sh pauses, pressing her lips together, "Y'know... this is sort of like gambling. Except when you win, you don't get money, you just get cleaner clothes." She cants her head to one side curiously, "Where are you staying, may I ask? Is it, uh... cheap? I'm looking for a more permanent residence myself. Right now I'm staying in some shi--er... crappy hotel."
This question seems to be a difficult one as Vic just stares at Vivian for a few moments before speaking. "Its complicated. I'm just a guest so I don't know how much it costs, sorry." She pauses and then says, "Its called Falcon Square though, over on F-street so appropriately, two blocks to the west from here."
"Oooh, gotcha. Complicated," Vivian states, nodding slowly, "Still, I can go take a look." She smiles wryly, "And at least laundry is fairly close. Christ, I had to drag this thing half across the city." She lightly kicks at the dufflebag with a foot, smiling wryly, "Must've looked quite the sight, I bet. I thought about getting a car, but then there's more than just the price. There's insurance and tags and all that other stuff. I'd rather spend my money on booze and food."
Vic leans back against the dryer and nods. "Gotta balance your budget I guess," she says and then asks, "What're you doing for work since arriving? I'm still looking myself."
"Same thing as you, actually," Vivian replies with a shrug, "Though in my case, I have bennies from my time in the army and some savings when I worked for a PMC. It's a modest living, but stable. Which is not to say I would mind some additional work and a paycheck. Having a lot of time is great and all, but there's only so many times you can go walk on the beach, as lovely as it is." She tilts her head slightly, "You're new here, too, then Vic? I just arrived about a week ago. I have to say -- barring certain terribly decorated laundries -- that Prospect is great!"
"Yeah, I arrived here about a week ago also," Vic says in response to the question. Then, speaking faster than thinking, she says, "It's pretty good but I miss San Diego already," and then looks a bit embarassed at herself for saying that.
"Oh, so I guess we're Prospect Pals!" Vivian exclaims with a grin, "Damn, though you're doing better than me if you already have an apartment sorted out." The mention of San Diego gets a puzzled look from the blonde. "Eh? Where's that? Mexico?"
Vic snorts and says, "Si, <<lets go with that>>," in sarcastic Spanish with a nod that will make the literal meaning of her words clear to those who don't understand the words and may not be able to catch the actual meaning and the sarcasm. Switching back to English she says, "Sure, pals," with sincerity but little excitement as she again looks to be lost in thought.
"Ah, neat," Vivian replies with a wide smile. She, apparently, is not someone who can speak Spanish and takes the nod at face value, "I've been to Mexico. 'Fraid only to some of the larger cities and outskirts. Never been to this Deigo Garcia, myself." Her smile becomes a little softer at seeing the unenthusiastic reply. "Feeling a little homesick, huh?" she guesses, rubbing the back of her neck absently, "Yeah, I can understand that. Not sure what circumstances led to you leaving your hometown and all, but you can take heart that it'll still be there, even if you can't be. A little piece of you is left there -- in the people you knew and the things you did." Her smile turns sheepish, "Sorry, I'm a soldier and not too good at the touchy-feely comfort thing. Feel free to ignore my cheesy after-school-special impression."
Vic started to just nod along with Vivian's comments but then smirks at the end. Obviously shaken out of the threatened funk she says, "Yeah, nice yin-yang reference there, Viv." Interrupted by the beeping of her dryer she opens it and checks the contents. With a sigh she moves them around, closes the door and slots some more quarters. As it starts again she says, "Hopefully the machine you're using is better than this one," after which she asks, "Which branch did you serve in?"
At the very least, Vivian seems pleased the threatened emotional stormclouds have been shooed away for the moment. The rumbling of the washing machine behind her finally ends and the blonde turns to take out the wet clothing, "Glad I could be of service." As she hefts the now much heavier wet clothes over to the dryer and begins to load, she glances to the side, "It is blowing hot air, right? It'd just be like these things to 'work' in the sense that they tumble, but not dry." Once the clothing is stuffed inside and the door closed, Vivian again fumbles around for some change to begin loading up the sock bandit. "I was army," she says as the quarters clunk into the machine, "Served mainly in the middle east. Enlisted right out of highschool, in fact."
"Yeah, they weren't sopping wet anymore, just damp," Vic explains in answer to the question about the machine. "My parents met while my dad was serving in the Navy," she explains briefly as she looks into the dryer though the formerly transparent, now semi-opaque due to years of scratches, plastic door 'window'. "Looks like things are going better this time."
"Oh, your old man was navy?" Vivian asks curiously, starting her machine and having the ancient beast rumble to life, "There's always been a bit of rivalry between the branches, but I always liked the navy dudes on the occasion we'd come across them on leave." She peers into her own machine and squints, "Can't really tell yet in mine, but at least it's tumbling, so there's that. Christ, it feels like this place was specifically designed to cheese you off."
Vic laughs at the voicing of an opinion that, based on her response, she had already formed herself as well. "Yeah, it sure does," she says confirming the visual queues. "I don't know much about leave, after all my parents met when dad was on leave," she says, further explaining, "Mom discouraged the sharing of stories of leaves prior to their meeting. Probably for good reasons I am left to imagine."
Vivian continues to scrutinize the scratched up window that provides a look into the tumbling morass of clothing as if doing so might somehow help them dry faster. She chuckles lightly and finally straightens up. "Probably a good idea," she states, "Leave can get pretty damn wild, let me tell you. I only heard about this one second hand, but apparently some boys went to brothel and there was an Incident with six milk bottles, a lawnchair, and a tuning fork that required a trip to the Emergency Room." Yes, one can hear the capital 'I' in incident.
The dryer Vic is using beeps again so she doesn't immediately reply. Instead she checks the contents and finds them dry. "Well, that's good," she says. "Didn't have to run it three times at least," while she unloads everything into the 'black' sack that reemerges from her bag. "I'll fold them later," she explains. "It was nice meeting you, Viv," she says, "Maybe next time we can share wild stories we were directly involved in."
"Good thing it got there in the end," Vivian states, grinning and motioning to the machine. She nods several times, "Yeah, I wouldn't bother to fold 'em here. The folds wouldn't survive the trip." A wide, bright grin spreads over her features as she inclines her head to the other woman, "Absolutely, Vic! Have a great day." The grin on her features turns impish and she winks, "Farewell, Laundry Whisperer."
Laughing again at the nickname, Vic smiles and walks down the isle to fetch her stool while wearing her bag over her shoulder and carrying the sack of laundry in one hand. Lifting and folding the stool with one hand she then tucks it into a pocket on her bag which she then adjusts to sit at the small of her back. She calls out, "Have a good day," to Vivian as she heads out to the street.
