Hank Anderson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sociallychallenged) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
victory_road2018-11-17 07:33 pm
sociallychallenged) wrote in victory_road2018-11-17 07:33 pm
003 - Log
Who: Hank Anderson | OTA
Where: Goldenrod
When: During November
Summary: A few log openings
Rating: L for language
Nov 12th - OTA
[It's shaping up to be a cold, rainy week. Honestly, it feels a little like home, and it gives him something to do because fuck knows he hates sitting around all the fuckin' time with his thumb up his ass. And this place is pretty good for giving him absolutely nothing. He's been working as a janitor in every town they've stayed at, and his most exciting event of the week is when he has to scrape gum from the bottom of a table. Honestly he didn't quite feel so fucking old until the millionth time he had to dislodge a cemented hard candy from a surface, muttering, 'damned kids'. A sentiment he never thought he'd feel (even if it's just passing petty annoyance with the average heathen children of perfect land, and he still very much misses being a father).]
[On a day off like this he can take his dogs and go out and investigate the area around the town. He can check the 'missing' posters at the Pokecenter or ads in the paper. He can make a list of "missing eevee, pink bow around neck" or "cranky joltik, answers to frank, plz contact if seen" and contact their owners to find something that'll smell like their lost charges. Then he can use his three main team members to go looking for the missing pokemon.]
[Today's been a good day. He's not bothered with an umbrella himself, because he's not a fucking wicked witch and he's not going to melt, but he is carrying a basket with someone's lost, wet Jigglypuff in it, dripping from having been wandering freely, lost from its owner, with a poncho over it and looking about as cranky as a wet ball of pink fluff can.]
[Hank carries it into the Pokecenter to drop it off, intending to go get some fucking booze after this because he is going to need it. His pants are spattered in that unique sort of City Mud that's going to be a pain in the ass to wash out, and he puts the basket up onto the nearest counter and turns it over to the nearest deja-vu-faced cute girl along with the owner's info.]
Watch out. He's in a mood. [Hank warns her before heading out. Right. Booze, and pick up a newspaper to look for more missing ads. Rather than make them endure the rain longer than necessary, his usual crew of dogs are all in their balls. Sure, he'll protect his buddies from the water, but not himself (other than his leather overcoat and some thick clothes) despite it being cold. He'll just go about his errands looking like a wet Stoutland, thanks.]
Nov 23rd - Closed to Connor
There is some bullshit going on.
[Hank's voice is booming loudly as he tears his way back to his and Connor's shared hotel room. There's been some fucked up stuff already. People just... fucking appearing in the street. Pokemon that don't belong here chasing around ones that do. People going missing. The Jennies are taxed and Hank's done what he can to help for a man that has no fucking clue what anything is and where.]
[He has seen one of the giant legendary fucking huge bird things today, and that's something he didn't want in his life.]
Have you seen any of this, Connor?
[He goes to the window to peek out the blinds.]
I thought my fucking shadow fucking off without my permission was weird enough. Now we've got whatever this is.
Where: Goldenrod
When: During November
Summary: A few log openings
Rating: L for language
[On a day off like this he can take his dogs and go out and investigate the area around the town. He can check the 'missing' posters at the Pokecenter or ads in the paper. He can make a list of "missing eevee, pink bow around neck" or "cranky joltik, answers to frank, plz contact if seen" and contact their owners to find something that'll smell like their lost charges. Then he can use his three main team members to go looking for the missing pokemon.]
[Today's been a good day. He's not bothered with an umbrella himself, because he's not a fucking wicked witch and he's not going to melt, but he is carrying a basket with someone's lost, wet Jigglypuff in it, dripping from having been wandering freely, lost from its owner, with a poncho over it and looking about as cranky as a wet ball of pink fluff can.]
[Hank carries it into the Pokecenter to drop it off, intending to go get some fucking booze after this because he is going to need it. His pants are spattered in that unique sort of City Mud that's going to be a pain in the ass to wash out, and he puts the basket up onto the nearest counter and turns it over to the nearest deja-vu-faced cute girl along with the owner's info.]
Watch out. He's in a mood. [Hank warns her before heading out. Right. Booze, and pick up a newspaper to look for more missing ads. Rather than make them endure the rain longer than necessary, his usual crew of dogs are all in their balls. Sure, he'll protect his buddies from the water, but not himself (other than his leather overcoat and some thick clothes) despite it being cold. He'll just go about his errands looking like a wet Stoutland, thanks.]
[Hank's voice is booming loudly as he tears his way back to his and Connor's shared hotel room. There's been some fucked up stuff already. People just... fucking appearing in the street. Pokemon that don't belong here chasing around ones that do. People going missing. The Jennies are taxed and Hank's done what he can to help for a man that has no fucking clue what anything is and where.]
[He has seen one of the giant legendary fucking huge bird things today, and that's something he didn't want in his life.]
Have you seen any of this, Connor?
[He goes to the window to peek out the blinds.]
I thought my fucking shadow fucking off without my permission was weird enough. Now we've got whatever this is.
no subject
I figured it would be better for a guy of my size.
[He's lost weight walking around so much, but he still has a belly, and he pats it. Yeah, he's a bit heavy, a lot heavier than most Pokemon riding kids.]
no subject
He takes out his Leafeon notebook and his pencil and writes down the names of the Pokémon. (Lucky for him, they're spelled the way they sound, so he doesn't misspell them.)]
Thank you. Where do you find them?
no subject
[He watches the kid write, thinking of his own notebook. He's sort of glad to see him off to what Hank considers a good start; keeping notes in a very traditional sense.]
One's a fire type and one's a ground type. Look at me, actually remembering this shit. This stuff. This stuff is what I meant.
[He's doing his best, alright? Besides it's really not that hard to remember with the fuckin' name of mud in the fuckin' branding anyway.]
no subject
He dutifully scribbles down the notes about the Pokémon types and how to find out where they're from.]
I will look into it and see what I find. Do you want me to let you know when I find where to find Ponyta?
no subject
[If Connor doesn't have one by then, then he can try and look into it for him, maybe.]
Actually, since you're out delivering papers, could you let me know if you see a tame Jigglypuff out without an owner around, would you?