|G. M. Dark (illustratedman) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2012-07-02 21:10:00
|Entry tags:||mr. dark|
Who: Mr. Dark!
What: This thing called Kinko's.
Where: ... Lawrence, someplace, and then wandering around town.
When: Shortly after his recent post.
Warnings | Status: Stealing | Complete | Narrative
Mr. Dark hummed a tune then promptly dropped his cane, bending low at his waist just to pick it up and 'accidentally' bump into the older gentleman passing him by.
"Oops!" he said cheerfully, rising to his full height and thrusting out both hands to steady the man. "Pardon me. I'm so terribly sorry," he offered a welcoming smile, shared a few words with the disgruntled man who excused his apology with a dismissive wave of the hand. Mr. Dark sent the man off without delay and continued down the road, tipping his hat to a group of middle-aged ladies as they passed. Once a safe distance, Dark pulled the wallet out of his coat pocket and casually flipped through the contents.
A Mr. Eric Cresswell, 53. $50 lost, a couple of plastic cards, and ohh! Look at that, a cute little family. Dark took the bills and discarded the rest within the trashcan he passed on his way to the Kinko's. The establishment rose up before him, unfamiliar and queer for all appearances. Well, the art of the printing press had truly been lost then, hadn't it? What a shame, to see such lovely things disappear.
Dark smiled faintly, pulled his hat from his head and flounced into the shop, looking around.
"Why, hello! I am Mr. Dark," he introduced himself to a young woman, who looked baffled and somewhat amused to see a man so richly dressed enter the shop.
"Hello, sir. How can I help you today?" she came from around the counter to meet Mr. Dark.
Dark dug a paper from the inside of his coat and unfolded it, smoothing the image down on the counter. "I wish to make copies of this," he said brightly. "200, to be exact. Thank you," he pulled out the $50 he borrowed from Mr. Cresswell and pushed it onto the counter.
The woman blinked, and took the image from Mr. Dark.
"Just this size."
There was a momentary pause, and then she gestured Dark closer to the machines, and began to show him how to use it. He humored her, of course, but paid little attention to the workings of the machine.
"Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?" she asked, once the prints had finished.
Dark hummed another tune, and smiled at the woman. "Why, I have reserved for you two tickets," he produced them with a flair of his hand, "to the carnival. Good for any ride you so wish. I shall see you there," he gave her the tickets and, with a tip of his hat and printed flyers in hand, exited the shop. Wandering down the road, Mr. Dark began to throw the flyers one by one into the air, allowing the wind to sweep them up and throw them about every couple of steps.
Mr. Dark has begun distributing flyers around town.