Tim Casey (mister_fixer) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2010-09-11 17:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-07-26 |
I've got this energy beneath my feet
Who: Tim and OPEN
Where: Ad Gustum
When: Midday, around noon
It was one of Tim's habits to make a daily walkthrough of the mansion, checking here and there for little imperfections that might mar the image projected to clients and other visitors. Heaven forbid some super-influential vamp was on his way upstairs and saw a crack in the crown molding, or a lightbulb flickering! It was also a matter of pride for him. He was the maintenance for Ad Gustum, and it was his responsibility to make sure the place looked and stayed in top shape. Anything that wasn't perfect was just a slight against his professional skills. On rare occasions, he would stop to ponder just how pathetic it was that his main priority in life was now the care and maintenance of a secret vampire brothel run by a pair of terrifying teenage girls, but that had stopped crossing his mind after the first couple weeks of his employment.
Now the house was just that -- a house, with a passle of residents who tended to screw things up on a daily basis. A place this size required nothing short of his complete concentration, so during daylight hours Tim focused on the tasks at hand. There was always a lot to be done before business really picked up, and he liked to have it done before then. Nobody liked seeing a giant tool-wielding guy fixing lightbulbs in the foyer, it just spoiled the mood.
The walkthrough started in the same place it always did, his workroom-slash-storage room in a secluded corner of the house. He had a very detailed list of things to keep an eye out for, compiled from a standard list and from notes he'd made during the previous day's walk, and he printed this out and put it on a battered clipboard. Most of his equipment would be left in the workroom, but Tim did keep a tool belt around his waist, containing a few multi-purpose tools for quick fixes. With these two items ready, he locked the door behind him and began his inspection on the first floor of the mansion. Dead lighbulb, crooked picture, another lightbulb, squeaky floorboard...
His clipboard went flying and he found himself facefirst in the (very luxurious) carpet. After a moment spent contemplating whether or not that would bruise, Tim scrambled back onto his knees and glared at the culprit, an almost imperceptibly exposed seam between two pieces of the carpet. Carpet tape. He was going to need carpet tape, and to figure out who'd laid the carpet in the first place so he could bitch at them for doing such a crappy job of it. He seized his fallen clipboard and pulled a stub of a pencil from one pocket of his tool belt, so caught up in adding this newest project to his list that he forgot about his very inconvenient location. A six-foot-four man kneeling in the middle of the hall did tend to be a traffic obstruction, after all.