33 Apocalypse Ave, Monday morning

[existencemisspent]

Right, so. That was . . . a thing that had happened. Both Eliot and Margo were old hat by now at experiencing their own deaths, thanks to the Beast and multiple attempts at running a probability spell that had shown them maybe a dozen variations upon that theme. So when they woke up in the library after spending the weekend as ghosts reliving their untimely demise, there had been only a few moments of clinging to each other and reminding themselves that they were real and alive before they headed home to bury their feelings in champagne and resplendence.

"What do you think, Bambi? Champagne cocktails or French 75s?"

He'd offer her a bloody mary but, well. He'd had rather enough of blood, this weekend.

[Mostly for the bestie but also can be open!]

Comments

[existencemisspent]

"I felt that went without saying," Eliot mused. "And damn. I couldn't try it, either, what with, you know, being Fillorian-married and all. I was hoping one of us had managed to."

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“It’s not like Fillory was running over with bangables,” Margo said, taking another sip of her cocktail. “Shit was hectic for a while there.”

Understatement. Fuck, Prince Ess might have been the last person she’d fucked before Irene, and wasn’t that a trip?

[existencemisspent]

Well. At least she was attracted to the last person she'd fucked before coming to Fandom.

"What, you weren't charmed by Tick's plush mustache?" Eliot teased. "Proper parties were lost on Fillory. I'll have to find something extra special to make this one worthy of our names."

Perhaps a mixer that would magically taste like the drinker's favorite fruit. . . .

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“I think we should spend this week brainstorming our best party spells ever,” Margo decided.

And not just because she wanted to show off in front of Irene. Please. She wasn’t that desperate.

(It was just a fringe benefit.)

“You should handle the boozy ones, I’ll think about setting the right atmosphere. Something that says ‘we know this island is quaint and fucked up, and you deserve to stare at the pretty magical lights in blitzed-out wonder under the Eiffel Tower’.”

[existencemisspent]

"I love it," Eliot said. "I'm sure we can find something interesting at the shop." The library, clearly, was right out. "Speaking of. . . . I think 'I spent the weekend dead' is a valid reason to play retail hooky today. You?"

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[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“What’s the point of being your own boss if you can’t ditch work when you wanna?” Margo asked, eyebrows raised. “Fuck, did I ever tell you about the creepy goth chick who came in to tell me about the old owner’s under-the-table poison biz?”

It had been a few days and some trauma, so Margo could admit to herself that she kinda approved of the previous owner’s business moxy. Just. . . not of goth chick’s weird lack of discretion about it.

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[existencemisspent]

Eliot had meant his own retail experiences -- he supposedly was meant to open the magic shop on Mondays -- but went willingly with her shift to the lotion shop.

"You did not. Details please."

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[not_a_goddamn_princess]

What? He wasn’t the only person here who had a Monday shift.

“I met her at the three minute dates thing and she seemed cool if kinda weird,” Margo dished in her dishing voice. “But last week? She just comes up and she’s all ‘I used to work here. Bee tee dubs, we used to sell poison here, you can find the list of under-the-table customers somewhere around here’. Got real huffy when I told her I ain’t selling poison to anybody.”

And even if she decided to, why would she admit that to a perfect stranger?

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[existencemisspent]

"Jesus, I should hope not," Eliot said, shaking his head and sipping his cocktail. "Not the ones that are strictly deadly instead of recreational, anyway."

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[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“But it explains a lot,” Margo said. “Like how the creepy murder apartment wasn’t a place where anybody did the murdering.”

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[existencemisspent]

"And how it wasn't crazy haunted," Eliot said blithely. And took a large sip of his cocktail because oops. Ghosts. "Though I suppose if weekends like this one are terribly common, I can see where an actual poison shop could be . . . a thing. . . ."

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[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“Can we please not talk about the weekend,” Margo said, pulling a face. “Because fuck, I’m already not gonna be able to wear hair bands for a while.”

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[existencemisspent]

Eliot nodded. "Of course, Bambi." He shifted to loop his arm around her shoulders. "My apologies. Is there any poison still lurking in your store, then?"

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[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“Just in the apartment upstairs,” Margo said. She let out a long sigh. “As far as I know. Fuck, I should check, shouldn’t I?”

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[existencemisspent]

“I’m sore we could dowse for it or something. Just to be sure.”

With the least amount of effort.

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[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo snorted. “Fuck, I haven’t dowsed for anything since first year. Was that first year?”