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they are all surgeons
Title: they are all surgeons
Fandom: End Roll
Character(s): Informant, Russell, Yumi, Mireille, Tabasa, Gardenia, Dogma, Cody, Kantera
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 2,000
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Seven times the Informant leaves his shop.
Notes: Defeated the Hell number!
Yumi shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he braces himself.
The Informant sort of expects Yumi to be suspicious of him. Selling information is an automatically suspicious ‘job’, and he just sort of has that kind of face - well, no, Russell has the same face and he’s beloved here. It’s what they do or don’t do with that face that makes people wary of the Informant.
Yumi is devoted to peace in the nameless town, so it’s natural that she’s keeping an eye on the Informant, that she’s not going to let him get away with anything-
-that she’s plopping her hat down on his head.
The Informant lifts the brim so that he can see her grinning at him. “...Yumi?”
“You were makin’ a serious face. It don’t fit a kid your age,” Yumi says. “You oughta get outta yer shop more ‘n have fun.”
The Informant isn’t here in this dream to have fun. That’s Russell’s job, to enjoy himself and get attached. The Informant’s just here to help guide him, and to do that he needs to be easily accessible.
“...Sure, I’ll do that,” he says.
Yumi pulls her hat off his head, only to ruffle his hair. “That’s the spirit! I gotta go down to Seaside to pick up a few things fer the mayor, but there ain’t no rush - you ‘n me should hit the beach!”
If it were anybody but Yumi, he could just refuse them. But it’s Yumi, and so he just sighs too heavily for his ‘age’ and goes along with it.
(Russell finds them at the beach, with the Informant in swim trunks and looking to all appearances like he’s enjoying himself until he spots Russell.
“Don’t say anything,” the Informant says.
Russell says nothing, but he’s almost smiling, and that’s worse.)
Mireille shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he wonders what she’s here for.
If there’s anyone who’s content with their life here, it has to be Mireille. Sure, she isn’t married to the man who she’s in love with, or even sure if he returns her feelings or not, but she’s achieved what she longed for in life. He doesn’t know what information she could possibly be seeking. Maybe she’s here on the mayor’s orders?
Mireille wrings her hands together. “Mr. Informant…?”
“Just ‘Informant’ is fine,” he answers with an easy smile. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I… I-is it true you haven’t been outside for three days?” she asks.
Three days ago was when Yumi dragged him to the beach. He hasn’t been outside at all besides that, so… “It’s true. Is that a problem?”
“O-of course it is!” Her scolding would be much more intimidating without the stammer, but it still has a certain impact since he wasn’t expecting her to raise her voice at all. “Staying in your shop all the time isn’t healthy for you! A-at least try to get some sunlight…”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t have anything to do outside.”
That was the wrong defense. Mireille’s frown lessens. “Well… the plants in the community garden need watering, so… you could help me with that? I-if you wanted. But I really think it would be good for you...”
Mireille isn’t the type of person who will steamroll him like Yumi. He could say no, and hole up in his shop for the rest of the dream.
“I’ll need to borrow your watering can,” he says instead, and his heart doesn’t sink nearly enough when she brightens up and nods.
(Russell finds the Informant watering plants and getting dirt on his pant legs.
“Don’t say anything.”
Russell shakes his head, wearing that almost smile again.)
Tabasa shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he feels a sense of dread wash over him.
Not because Tabasa is a bad person, or even an unpleasant person. He might be the most genuinely selfless and kindhearted villager in this dream, just as he was in life. No, the problem is that when the villagers come to visit him, they’re usually not looking for information, but for him, and he just doesn’t want to deal with that from Tabasa.
“Good day,” he says. “Did you need information?”
Tabasa shakes his head. “I’m here on a special assignment.”
That’s not what he expected to hear. “What?”
“Everybody’s worried about you. ‘Cept maybe Cody - anyway.” Tabasa clears his throat and goes on. “You don’t come out of your shop unless somebody makes you, you don’t talk to us, you’re pretty much a hermit. I got delegated to come drag you out by any means necessary.”
The Informant could absolutely beat Tabasa into the ground if he wanted to. He scoffs. “Sorry, but I’m not going-”
The next thing he knows, he’s being tickled. It’s a relentless assault, and the Informant can’t so much as catch his breath through his laughter. He barely manages to get out, “I give - I give-”
Tabasa lets up, looking satisfied. “That’s what I thought you’d say. C’mon, you can come outside and pet some sheep.”
(“You gave him inside information, didn’t you,” he grumbles at Russell when he passes by the field.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”)
Gardenia shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he prepares to be dragged out again.
“Today you’re lucky! I’m not going to try and get you to go outside,” she says.
He stares at her for a moment. He’s gotten used to the villagers trying to rid him of his ‘hermiting’ and Gardenia is easily someone who could steamroll him if she wanted to. “You aren’t?”
“Nope!” she says with a bright smile. “Because I’ve got more important things to do. Show me your kitchen!”
“...Huh?”
“Your kitchen,” she says, a little more impatiently. “So I can figure out if you’re eating healthy or not! You never come buy and have any of my meals, so you might just be living off of cereal and boxed ramen…”
This is a problem. The Informant doesn’t have to eat, so he doesn’t have a kitchen. He doesn’t have the kind of dream-altering abilities where he can just make one on the fly, either, so he needs to think fast-
“Actually, I was just thinking that I should come by your restaurant sometime!” he says, heading for the door. “Maybe right now! I’ve heard great things about it, but I’ve never actually had your cooking…”
Gardenia moves to follow him, thank God.
(Russell joins them at Gardenia’s table and says, “It’s good, right?”
“It’s good.” Just because the Informant doesn’t have to eat doesn’t mean he doesn’t have taste buds, and anyone would like Gardenia’s cooking.
She claps her hands together in delight.)
Dogma shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he feels resigned about it, at this point.
“Good day, Dogma,” he says, smiling like he isn’t inwardly sighing over no doubt getting dragged out to do something or other for his own health. “Can I help you with something?”
“If it’s possible,” Dogma says, “could you tell me about Cattie funerals?”
The Informant… blinks at him. “You’re. You’re actually asking me for information?”
“Is that not what your business is for?” Dogma asks, equally confused.
“No, it’s just that - of course. I’d be happy to tell you about that.” He has to search a little in the dream to figure out what was decided for such an unimportant piece of information, but to anyone else it just looks like he’s trying to remember something he learned long ago. “...Ah, right. Catties typically choose some form of cremation. Lately they haven’t been having many funerals at all, but in simpler times they would have the deceased’s family speak of their fondest memories with the dead Cattie before letting the ashes scatter to the wind.”
“I see. Thank you. I’ve never performed a Cattie funeral before, but I was approached for one yesterday and I was unsure of what to expect,” Dogma says. “What do you take in payment? Walnuts?”
“It’s fine,” the Informant says. “I’ll see you around.”
Dogma seems particularly discomfited with the idea of not paying him, but doesn’t argue.
The next time Dogma holds mass, the Informant sneaks in the back. He isn’t sure why. Maybe because he doesn’t know what Russell’s decided a mass should be like - except he could find that out just fine without attending.
Maybe because actually being there is different from just learning about it.
(Russell finds him there in the back and asks, “Did you get dragged out again?”
“Yes.” His curiosity dragged him out. It’s the same thing.)
Cody shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he manages to still be surprised.
Cody doesn’t like him. Cody wants nothing to do with him. Cody has a large bag of something-or-other that she’s deposited on the table.
“Edamameyes and Homeward Rooties,” she says. “Since you’re getting out a little more.”
“...I’m offended you don’t think I’m as much of a hermit as ever,” he replies.
“Dogma saw you at mass yesterday,” she says, and goes on while he’s regretting his life decisions. “Eventually you’ll probably leave town on your own, and it’s dangerous out there. Everybody should have at least a couple of Homeward Rooties. But the next ones won’t be free, okay?”
“I thought you hated me,” he says, looking at the bag rather than at her.
“...I don’t hate you. I definitely don’t want you to get eaten by a monster. You just annoy me a little, that’s all,” she says, and turns to go.
Cody’s out the door and almost to Saxon’s house before he catches up with her. She turns and waits for him to talk.
“...Thank you,” is what he ends up saying.
She turns a little red and looks away. “You’re welcome.”
(Russell brings him a couple pills from Kantera’s shop and says, “These too.”
“I have other ways of dealing with monsters,” the Informant says, but accepts the pills anyway.)
Kantera shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he doesn’t know what to feel.
“You have yet to have your twice-yearly checkup,” Kantera informs him, before he can decide on whether to let any of his bitterness show.
“I’m just fine,” the Informant says. “There’s no need to make a fuss over me.”
Kantera shakes his head. “I insist. I’m not leaving this shop until you agree to let me look you over, as your doctor.”
The Informant could say a lot of things, but what he actually ends up saying is, “Is it that important if I get the flu? We aren’t friends, you know.”
“Are most doctors friends with their patients?” Kantera asks. “I wouldn’t have become a doctor without some desire to heal people I didn’t know well. Besides… I still recall what it was like to move into this town and know no one. It took me some time to want to leave my house, as well.”
It’s not the same, but the softness of Kantera’s expression seems genuine, as genuine as anything in this dream ever is.
“You actually care about my wellbeing,” the Informant says,
“All of us do,” Kantera replies. “Did you only just notice?” The Informant doesn’t answer, so he goes on. “For someone who deals in information, you aren’t very observant.”
This is not a conversation the Informant is ready for yet. He may never be ready for it. And if it means he’ll cut this conversation short…
He sighs. “I’ll go to my checkup, doctor.”
“Excellent!”
(Russell spots him leaving Kantera’s shop and says, “Him, too?”
“Only under duress,” the Informant says with a scowl. He wouldn’t deal with any of these people if it weren’t to keep up appearances. He definitely wouldn’t leave his shop for any reason other than to satisfy their need to make sure he’s alright.
Russell pauses in thought. “I think it’s good for you.”
“Don’t gang up on me with the rest of them.” But there’s no real heat in his words.)
Fandom: End Roll
Character(s): Informant, Russell, Yumi, Mireille, Tabasa, Gardenia, Dogma, Cody, Kantera
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 2,000
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Seven times the Informant leaves his shop.
Notes: Defeated the Hell number!
Yumi shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he braces himself.
The Informant sort of expects Yumi to be suspicious of him. Selling information is an automatically suspicious ‘job’, and he just sort of has that kind of face - well, no, Russell has the same face and he’s beloved here. It’s what they do or don’t do with that face that makes people wary of the Informant.
Yumi is devoted to peace in the nameless town, so it’s natural that she’s keeping an eye on the Informant, that she’s not going to let him get away with anything-
-that she’s plopping her hat down on his head.
The Informant lifts the brim so that he can see her grinning at him. “...Yumi?”
“You were makin’ a serious face. It don’t fit a kid your age,” Yumi says. “You oughta get outta yer shop more ‘n have fun.”
The Informant isn’t here in this dream to have fun. That’s Russell’s job, to enjoy himself and get attached. The Informant’s just here to help guide him, and to do that he needs to be easily accessible.
“...Sure, I’ll do that,” he says.
Yumi pulls her hat off his head, only to ruffle his hair. “That’s the spirit! I gotta go down to Seaside to pick up a few things fer the mayor, but there ain’t no rush - you ‘n me should hit the beach!”
If it were anybody but Yumi, he could just refuse them. But it’s Yumi, and so he just sighs too heavily for his ‘age’ and goes along with it.
(Russell finds them at the beach, with the Informant in swim trunks and looking to all appearances like he’s enjoying himself until he spots Russell.
“Don’t say anything,” the Informant says.
Russell says nothing, but he’s almost smiling, and that’s worse.)
Mireille shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he wonders what she’s here for.
If there’s anyone who’s content with their life here, it has to be Mireille. Sure, she isn’t married to the man who she’s in love with, or even sure if he returns her feelings or not, but she’s achieved what she longed for in life. He doesn’t know what information she could possibly be seeking. Maybe she’s here on the mayor’s orders?
Mireille wrings her hands together. “Mr. Informant…?”
“Just ‘Informant’ is fine,” he answers with an easy smile. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I… I-is it true you haven’t been outside for three days?” she asks.
Three days ago was when Yumi dragged him to the beach. He hasn’t been outside at all besides that, so… “It’s true. Is that a problem?”
“O-of course it is!” Her scolding would be much more intimidating without the stammer, but it still has a certain impact since he wasn’t expecting her to raise her voice at all. “Staying in your shop all the time isn’t healthy for you! A-at least try to get some sunlight…”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t have anything to do outside.”
That was the wrong defense. Mireille’s frown lessens. “Well… the plants in the community garden need watering, so… you could help me with that? I-if you wanted. But I really think it would be good for you...”
Mireille isn’t the type of person who will steamroll him like Yumi. He could say no, and hole up in his shop for the rest of the dream.
“I’ll need to borrow your watering can,” he says instead, and his heart doesn’t sink nearly enough when she brightens up and nods.
(Russell finds the Informant watering plants and getting dirt on his pant legs.
“Don’t say anything.”
Russell shakes his head, wearing that almost smile again.)
Tabasa shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he feels a sense of dread wash over him.
Not because Tabasa is a bad person, or even an unpleasant person. He might be the most genuinely selfless and kindhearted villager in this dream, just as he was in life. No, the problem is that when the villagers come to visit him, they’re usually not looking for information, but for him, and he just doesn’t want to deal with that from Tabasa.
“Good day,” he says. “Did you need information?”
Tabasa shakes his head. “I’m here on a special assignment.”
That’s not what he expected to hear. “What?”
“Everybody’s worried about you. ‘Cept maybe Cody - anyway.” Tabasa clears his throat and goes on. “You don’t come out of your shop unless somebody makes you, you don’t talk to us, you’re pretty much a hermit. I got delegated to come drag you out by any means necessary.”
The Informant could absolutely beat Tabasa into the ground if he wanted to. He scoffs. “Sorry, but I’m not going-”
The next thing he knows, he’s being tickled. It’s a relentless assault, and the Informant can’t so much as catch his breath through his laughter. He barely manages to get out, “I give - I give-”
Tabasa lets up, looking satisfied. “That’s what I thought you’d say. C’mon, you can come outside and pet some sheep.”
(“You gave him inside information, didn’t you,” he grumbles at Russell when he passes by the field.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”)
Gardenia shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he prepares to be dragged out again.
“Today you’re lucky! I’m not going to try and get you to go outside,” she says.
He stares at her for a moment. He’s gotten used to the villagers trying to rid him of his ‘hermiting’ and Gardenia is easily someone who could steamroll him if she wanted to. “You aren’t?”
“Nope!” she says with a bright smile. “Because I’ve got more important things to do. Show me your kitchen!”
“...Huh?”
“Your kitchen,” she says, a little more impatiently. “So I can figure out if you’re eating healthy or not! You never come buy and have any of my meals, so you might just be living off of cereal and boxed ramen…”
This is a problem. The Informant doesn’t have to eat, so he doesn’t have a kitchen. He doesn’t have the kind of dream-altering abilities where he can just make one on the fly, either, so he needs to think fast-
“Actually, I was just thinking that I should come by your restaurant sometime!” he says, heading for the door. “Maybe right now! I’ve heard great things about it, but I’ve never actually had your cooking…”
Gardenia moves to follow him, thank God.
(Russell joins them at Gardenia’s table and says, “It’s good, right?”
“It’s good.” Just because the Informant doesn’t have to eat doesn’t mean he doesn’t have taste buds, and anyone would like Gardenia’s cooking.
She claps her hands together in delight.)
Dogma shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he feels resigned about it, at this point.
“Good day, Dogma,” he says, smiling like he isn’t inwardly sighing over no doubt getting dragged out to do something or other for his own health. “Can I help you with something?”
“If it’s possible,” Dogma says, “could you tell me about Cattie funerals?”
The Informant… blinks at him. “You’re. You’re actually asking me for information?”
“Is that not what your business is for?” Dogma asks, equally confused.
“No, it’s just that - of course. I’d be happy to tell you about that.” He has to search a little in the dream to figure out what was decided for such an unimportant piece of information, but to anyone else it just looks like he’s trying to remember something he learned long ago. “...Ah, right. Catties typically choose some form of cremation. Lately they haven’t been having many funerals at all, but in simpler times they would have the deceased’s family speak of their fondest memories with the dead Cattie before letting the ashes scatter to the wind.”
“I see. Thank you. I’ve never performed a Cattie funeral before, but I was approached for one yesterday and I was unsure of what to expect,” Dogma says. “What do you take in payment? Walnuts?”
“It’s fine,” the Informant says. “I’ll see you around.”
Dogma seems particularly discomfited with the idea of not paying him, but doesn’t argue.
The next time Dogma holds mass, the Informant sneaks in the back. He isn’t sure why. Maybe because he doesn’t know what Russell’s decided a mass should be like - except he could find that out just fine without attending.
Maybe because actually being there is different from just learning about it.
(Russell finds him there in the back and asks, “Did you get dragged out again?”
“Yes.” His curiosity dragged him out. It’s the same thing.)
Cody shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he manages to still be surprised.
Cody doesn’t like him. Cody wants nothing to do with him. Cody has a large bag of something-or-other that she’s deposited on the table.
“Edamameyes and Homeward Rooties,” she says. “Since you’re getting out a little more.”
“...I’m offended you don’t think I’m as much of a hermit as ever,” he replies.
“Dogma saw you at mass yesterday,” she says, and goes on while he’s regretting his life decisions. “Eventually you’ll probably leave town on your own, and it’s dangerous out there. Everybody should have at least a couple of Homeward Rooties. But the next ones won’t be free, okay?”
“I thought you hated me,” he says, looking at the bag rather than at her.
“...I don’t hate you. I definitely don’t want you to get eaten by a monster. You just annoy me a little, that’s all,” she says, and turns to go.
Cody’s out the door and almost to Saxon’s house before he catches up with her. She turns and waits for him to talk.
“...Thank you,” is what he ends up saying.
She turns a little red and looks away. “You’re welcome.”
(Russell brings him a couple pills from Kantera’s shop and says, “These too.”
“I have other ways of dealing with monsters,” the Informant says, but accepts the pills anyway.)
Kantera shows up in the Informant’s shop, and he doesn’t know what to feel.
“You have yet to have your twice-yearly checkup,” Kantera informs him, before he can decide on whether to let any of his bitterness show.
“I’m just fine,” the Informant says. “There’s no need to make a fuss over me.”
Kantera shakes his head. “I insist. I’m not leaving this shop until you agree to let me look you over, as your doctor.”
The Informant could say a lot of things, but what he actually ends up saying is, “Is it that important if I get the flu? We aren’t friends, you know.”
“Are most doctors friends with their patients?” Kantera asks. “I wouldn’t have become a doctor without some desire to heal people I didn’t know well. Besides… I still recall what it was like to move into this town and know no one. It took me some time to want to leave my house, as well.”
It’s not the same, but the softness of Kantera’s expression seems genuine, as genuine as anything in this dream ever is.
“You actually care about my wellbeing,” the Informant says,
“All of us do,” Kantera replies. “Did you only just notice?” The Informant doesn’t answer, so he goes on. “For someone who deals in information, you aren’t very observant.”
This is not a conversation the Informant is ready for yet. He may never be ready for it. And if it means he’ll cut this conversation short…
He sighs. “I’ll go to my checkup, doctor.”
“Excellent!”
(Russell spots him leaving Kantera’s shop and says, “Him, too?”
“Only under duress,” the Informant says with a scowl. He wouldn’t deal with any of these people if it weren’t to keep up appearances. He definitely wouldn’t leave his shop for any reason other than to satisfy their need to make sure he’s alright.
Russell pauses in thought. “I think it’s good for you.”
“Don’t gang up on me with the rest of them.” But there’s no real heat in his words.)