crux_fleet | Laundry Night

Entry tags:

Laundry Night

Who: The Red Ranger
Where: Laundromat
When: Late Night, Majo 6th
Warnings: ???

When Zordon gave him his powers and told him to use it in the fight against evil, Jason had agreed readily. He'd sworn not to use his powers for personal gain, nor to reveal his identity. Probably to keep him from seeking fortune and fame, violating that other rule. And the big one: Never escalate a fight. Technically, he was obeying all of those rules here.

Technically.

Jason's fabricator had been on the fritz. As best as the techs could tell, someone on that floor had tried for so many repeating orders that it had activated a safety feature. Except that, due to some jury-rigging on their part, they were pulling power from everyone's fabricators, meaning all of them had been shut down. That wasn't the bad part, Jason had saved enough money to buy food from the various stands. The bad part was being unable to do up clothes real quick when he had to get everything washed.

And it couldn't wait. For one of the last stages of his training, they'd had to do a planetary drop and raid. Which, apparently, meant that the NCOs had fun whipping up a mud pit and throwing the cadets into it face first, then running them through a building where veteran Security officers got to shoot at them. And they weren't finished. More 'fun' awaited them later.

For now though, he got to put up with the fact that he couldn't fabricate new clothes, and his cadet's uniform couldn't be fabbed anyway. Tech blocks, keeping civilians from having access to things they shouldn't, he guessed. So, no clean clothes, no way to get clean clothes, and he had to be in the Fleet-issued uniform tomorrow for the review.

So there he was. Pulling a late night in the laundromat near the low-cost 'temporary' housing he'd yet to move out of. Anyone passing by will be treated to the sight of the Red Ranger, in full costume, folding underwear while apparently waiting for the rest of his laundry to finish up.

It beat sitting around in his boxers.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The person in red makes her look twice, certainly, drawing up vague memories of adventurers she'd seen before who covered their faces to avoid the dust. That wouldn't be a problem here, though...so why? She saves the questions until she's got her clothes in the wash, darks and brights, the small weekly amount from a woman living alone, then looks to see if they're still there. If they are, her first question's coming their way.

"Do you get hot in that?"

He looks up and blinks at her behind his helmet before laughing weakly. Well, he should have expected someone to pop in and question him. The whole Ranger costume did kind of stand out.

"It actually breathes pretty well. Which, you now, considering how often I end up running in it..." He swings his arms as if running, then laughs and shakes his head. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm usually not that hot in this thing."

Oh, jeez. He was babbling. That was a sure sign to convince someone that he was totally normal. Shaking himself a bit, the Red Ranger glances down at his pile of clean clothes, then starts tugging socks out of it. He knew it was a little awkward and probably looked rude, but what did he even talk about at this point? More about his uniform? No, that'd be just more babbling.

She shakes her head slightly, trying to indicate there was nothing to be sorry about.

"Running? From something or towards it?"

Her assumption was the latter, he could be just as reckless as some of the people she knew. Honestly it was nice to have a conversation with someone that wasn't about work or thanking them when she got food. It was something, at least.

"Does both count?" He grins behind his mask and cocks his head. "Maybe I should introduce myself. I'm the Red Ranger, from the Power Rangers." Not that it meant much here. "My friends and I are, uh. Geez, it sounds kind of silly saying all of this. Well, we protect our city from monsters. So, yeah, lots of running away and running towards things."

Totally didn't count as seeking fame or fortune. This is small talk in a laundromat, for crying out loud. You don't get famous for folding your undershirts neatly.

Pinoko came in to do her own laundry, after a late night helping out at the hospital. Why was Xenobiology so hard? On top of that, if she never saw another alien with the Batusi Flu again it would still be too soon.

As it was, she had a lot of laundry to do.

That, however, did not stop her from stopping and squealing when she saw the Red Ranger standing there and doing his laundry. It was like walking into the laundromat and seeing Big Mask doing his laundry. It was magical.

"Acchonburike! This is the best thing ever! Are you going to fight the bad guys?" Pinoko asked, the words all coming out in a rush. She looked dangerously close to hugging the Red Ranger.

At the first sound of that squeal, his head snaps up and over in her direction. The Ranger's confused for a moment before actually looking down and wow, she was loud for being so tiny.

Oh. A kid? Yeah, he could work with that. He places a finger to his lips. "Careful. Wouldn't want to disturb anyone, would we?" He looks around briefly, then goes down to a knee. Were her parents nearby? Or was the Fleet really safe enough that they let kids wander into places like this alone? She seemed to be familiar enough with superheroes, at least.

"If the people here need help, I'll do my best to lend a hand." But... No, somehow admitting that he was only here to do his laundry and didn't have any other clean clothes seemed kind of lame.

"All right. Well, I haven't seen any Space Bikers around, or anything, so I guess it's safe. For now," Pinoko said with a smile.

That said, she started dragging her laundry over to the machines. She never thought that she would miss having a washer and dryer at home until she didn't have one anymore. Maybe she should look into moving into a slightly bigger place. But not too much bigger. Too much bigger and she'd just feel like she was rattling around.

"Is that machine washable?" Pinoko asked looking over at the Red Ranger. "Or do you have to dry clean it?" What were Ranger Uniforms made out of, anyway?

Axl whistled cheerfully as he walked into the laundry. No, he didn't have any clothes of his own to wash, but the teeny old grandma who lived on the first floor had offered him a few credits to handle the rather awkward pile of bedding for her. It wasn't a lot, but he didn't have much better to do at the moment. It was smart to get on the good side of old grandmas anyway-- doing so had lead directly to his first date with chocolate chip cookies, once upon a time.

He glanced around mostly out of habit and felt his eyebrows go up as he saw the red-suited guy folding underwear. Well... it was one way to deal with laundry day.

"Hey," Axl said, sidling up to one of the super-huge washers so he could see how many laundry tokens it needed.

Well, it really wasn't the weirdest thing Axl had seen in his life, when you got down to it.

...Wow. That was just. Super-casual. "...Hi." It wasn't exactly the greeting he'd expected, but he wasn't going to complain. They're just two guys doing laundry.

Totally normal.

At least he wasn't so totally caught off-guard that he jumped when the washer dinged. Muttering a bit, he moved to switch everything over. "You'd think that, like, nine hundred years into the future they'd make this whole process quicker."

Laundry was a surprisingly complicated affair when you got down to it. Bleach or no bleach and all the options for making your laundry smell good... at least the soap and all was free from the fabricator, but really what the heck was "summer morning" supposed to smell like, anyway?

The red-suited guy was pretty cool, though he seemed nervous.

"What, like some gizmo that sucks up the dirt for you? Oooh, or nano-fabric that cleans itself!" Axl said, grinning at him.

Oh, it's the guy who saved him back on the Eye of Sharef. He's still wearing the...thing. Jinto pauses, laundry basket in hand, temporarily unsure of how to handle this.

"Ah...Hello."

Oh. This could get awkward if the guy's already hesitating to talk to him. The Ranger waves a little in response, then pauses and repeats the gesture without a pair of boxers in his hand this time. "Hey."

Man, where did he know that face from? He stares at Jinto for a long moment before shaking his head a little and going back to work. He had a lot of clothes to handle, but man. That was really going to bug him now.

There's a brief, spasmodic looking tic as Jinto bites down on his lower lip to prevent himself from laughing as the Mysterious Masked Man waves at him with a pair of underwear in hand. So he really is doing laundry. But then why is he still wearing the suit? Shouldn't that get laundered too? Or does it contain sensitive equipment?

"My name's Jinto Lynn. You saved me back on the Eye Of Sharef. I never got a chance to properly thank you." He says, when he can be sure of not laughing when he speaks.

What was more awkward than a strangely dressed man folding underwear at the Laundromat? A giant, naked monster could have been a good answer. Francœur owned only a small amount of clothing, which meant he had nothing to wear while washing his clothes. Not that it mattered to him; he had only begun wearing clothes recently. Furthermore, he was a flea, so it was not as if he was obscenely exposing himself.

It was hard to miss that bright red, but what was that costume for? Perhaps he was an actor. All his staring was rather obvious so should the man look his way, he would wave politely at him. Now back to that laundry. He absently stuck his purple tongue out from his mouth as he pressed a few buttons on the machine. In return, it obstinately buzzed back at him. How was this supposed to work? It was so complicated.

He could use some help, and well, that man in red did tend to draw attention to himself. He was the first person Francœur looked to, gauging to see if he would be willing.

Oh. Oh, wow. That was, uh. One big bug. It was probably a good thing that he was wearing a helmet, because Jason's expression underneath was definitely more on the weirded out side than the 'All-welcoming' side. Still he managed to return the wave, even if it was a little weak, and get back to his own work.

...Or he would, but the machines over by the flea-thing are buzzing oddly. He looks up with a concerned frown and considers the scene in front of him. If he didn't know any better, that was definitely someone who had no clue how these things worked. Somehow Francœur looked like Jason felt whenever Billy talked about the tech in the control room.

Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask. He clears his throat and puts his stuff down. "Hey, uh. Do you need a hand over there?"

Thankful for the offer, he nodded and uttered a chirp. He stepped aside so he would not be in the way. His claws delicately touched the buttons one more time but it only buzzed back at him again. It was not even a melodious sound. He shied away from the machine, his four claws clenching nervously.

Outward appearance was a very important part of being a successful businessman. Clothes were an especially important tool in making the right impression on a customer. Three important rules made up the framework of correct ferengi businessman attire.

Clothes must be: (1) Tastefully expensive, (2) well fitted, and (3) kept neat and clean.

Quark did not trust the so called 'laundry machines' with his wardrobe, considering it consisted mostly of elaborate suits with fiddly bits. But he was certainly willing to use them for undergarments and socks and such. So he happened to be in the area with a sack of his own washables around the same time as a certain someone else. Someone dressed utterly bizarrely. Quark was not entirely sure what this person's outfit was supposed to convey about him or her.

"That...a company issued uniform?" he remarked, glancing Jason's way.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Laundry Night

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject