The Junk Yard, Saturday Morning
"And that should just about cover it," Dean decided, putting one more signature on the paperwork while sitting in the office at the junk yard, and then standing to shake hands with the previous NPC owner. "Don't be a stranger, huh? I'll try to keep the place as neat and tidy as you left it. No tracking muddy boots through the junk or anything."
There were a bit more friendly conversation before Dean stepped out of the office to survey his new domain. Okay, so he was going to have to put in some serious hours just sorting this place out. There were heaps of scrap that he could put to use himself for his art projects, and there was a lot that the public might be interested in, for... whatever it was that non-artists tended to buy scrap metal for.
And then there was another part of the scrapyard entirely that had him sort of stopping and staring, perplexed, at what was sitting before him.
"Oh. Right... Spaceships."
Anybody who stopped by the junk yard today was going to find Dean trying to pull some of the junk away from the vehicles parked there by some of Fandom's more extraterrestrial residents and visitors. Parking lots were a general courtesy, though he wasn't exactly expecting anybody from space to want to make any purchases of the local trash or anything. They had been here first, the least he could do was leave a spot on the lot for them to park without scratching up their space-paint on some rusty piece of crap.
"Yeah."
[Yeah, Dean is moving to townie status, and taking over the junkyard. The mandatory name-change to McCoppin Scrap is forthcoming, and he'll be hiring in the future, but this post is mostly just establishy, unless anybody wants to stop by to... buy garbage or to check on their spacecraft, which he promises not to touch.]
There were a bit more friendly conversation before Dean stepped out of the office to survey his new domain. Okay, so he was going to have to put in some serious hours just sorting this place out. There were heaps of scrap that he could put to use himself for his art projects, and there was a lot that the public might be interested in, for... whatever it was that non-artists tended to buy scrap metal for.
And then there was another part of the scrapyard entirely that had him sort of stopping and staring, perplexed, at what was sitting before him.
"Oh. Right... Spaceships."
Anybody who stopped by the junk yard today was going to find Dean trying to pull some of the junk away from the vehicles parked there by some of Fandom's more extraterrestrial residents and visitors. Parking lots were a general courtesy, though he wasn't exactly expecting anybody from space to want to make any purchases of the local trash or anything. They had been here first, the least he could do was leave a spot on the lot for them to park without scratching up their space-paint on some rusty piece of crap.
"Yeah."
[Yeah, Dean is moving to townie status, and taking over the junkyard. The mandatory name-change to McCoppin Scrap is forthcoming, and he'll be hiring in the future, but this post is mostly just establishy, unless anybody wants to stop by to... buy garbage or to check on their spacecraft, which he promises not to touch.]