Play@YSDC

The entire day has been quiet and the night all the more so. The last day he worked had been Monday after just making the deadline for shooting the last episode on elf waves and their impact on mood. He didn't have anything official on until the Kamchatka Expedition Members' Meeting / Dinner / Get-Together on tomorrow - Friday night, 5 P.M.

Timothy relaxes in his bed, a copy of 'Gods and Wood-Things' by L. H. Allen in his hand. He had just eaten at a musty old diner a few streets away, and he felt full enough to be content. His lodgings were slightly decrepit; peeling paint, dust in the corners, a little drafty. But that was fine by him, it succeeded in deterring unwanted intrusions by workmates.

In a corner to his left lay his work gear, along with a thick coat for braving the worst of Berlin's weather. On the wall directly opposite his feet lay a bookshelf on which he had placed his latest literary acquisitions: titles included the 'Lost Secrets of Mu' and 'The Nephilim Fragments' to the Kabbalistic 'Liber Iezirah' and a copy of the 1st Edition of Le Pelletier's 'Alkaest', the latter two obtained at great financial cost. He planned on reading them over the course of the trip, when he wasn't working of course.

The lamp next on the bedside table to his right flickered, and Timothy considered putting the book down and turning in for the night.

There was a loud knock on the door.

Swearing under his breath, he slides out of bed and pulls on some pants. Timothy heads across the room to the door.

"Who is it?"

"Don't look," says a gruff, genderless voice. "Not today."

"What? I think you have the wrong room. May I suggest pissing off?"

Timothy turns to go back to his bed. Probably another bloody half 'n half street-walker. Don't they have anything better to do...

He isn't bothered by any further knocks on the door and soon falls into a blissful sleep filled with slowly shifting dreams. When he awakens, all he can remember from his dreams were oranges and a number of kittens. Only a few minutes after waking up, he receives a phone call from a familiar number: Milly LeCrique.

OOC: Pop into Milly's thread for the duration of the phone call if you choose to answer it.

Timothy ends his conversation with Milly, in high spirits at the thought of lunch with her. He then stretches and cracks his back, before heading to his chest of drawers to think of something nice to wear. I think it's shower time. He sniffs at his underarm. Urgh. Yes. Definitely shower time.

He undresses and heads over to the bathroom, before picking up a towel and turning the shower on, with the temperature up as hot as his accommodation will allow.

The hot water stops working about three minutes into the shower, leaving him chilled to the bone.

Timothy frowns and gets out of the shower. He pats himself dry, liberally applies deodorant and dresses himself, before heading out the door to talk to the owner of the hotel about the water situation.

The conversation with the hotel manager is long and unproductive. The bottom line seems to be that if he doesn't like the conditions, he can always leave.

Seeing as he can't change anything Timothy resigns himself to the situation, and heads down the road to see if there is somewhere half-way decent to have breakfast.

There are some rather nice eateries, though the differences and similarities in food choice between his home country and Germany sometimes startles him as he looks through the menu choices.

In the end Timothy chooses a little Turkish café on the corner of two little streets, ordering a black coffee and a lamb döner kebab before sitting down at a window table to watch the world go by.

Time passes quickly by as he enjoys his meal and he realizes he has only a half hour to get to the Malzcafe.

OOC: Enter Milly LeCrique's thread when ready.

Timothy returns to his lodgings after lunch with Milly and packs his things into his suitcase, taking smug satisfaction in telling the hotel manager that he was moving out and would be warning anyone he met about the terrible lack of service and style. He then returns to the Malzcafe and gets settled in, before heading to the Pergammon museum to inspect the famous Liltian Tablets. He makes sure to ask the manager of the Malzcafe about any buses or trams that might shorten his journey, and intends to use them instead of walking if possible.

After taking a bus, than a tram, then another bus, down Unter den Linden and Am Lustgarten, he finds himself crossing the museum grounds from Bodenstrasse and approaching the museum itself. Entering the building, his shoes sounding against the hard floor, the air conditioning chilling his flesh. To his left is the museum shop that has a set of items on shelving that seem familiar. A plastic version of a Liltian tablet faces away from her. A tall, colourful hard-copy book with KAMCHATKA written on the back. A much smaller paperback. A series of other odds and ends that may be part of the same set of merchandise.

The Pergammon museum seems particularly busy. He can see the receptionist who sits behind the counter in the middle of the room is virtually swamped with people. He also notices a sign erected not far from the reception desk, advertising tour guides and mentioning that the tour will go through the special exhibits. The tour will start in thirty minutes.

Timothy decides to read the sign by reception about tour guides, paying special interest to any mention of the special exhibits, before he heads over to the museum shop to see if there is anything of interest there.

The tour guide through the particular exhibit involves Natasha Chaikovskaya: the famed epigrapher of the Liltian tablets. There seems to be a few people waiting for the tour already. The museum shop contains a set of items on shelving that seem familiar. A plastic version of a Liltian tablet faces away from him. There is a tall, colourful hard-copy book with KAMCHATKA written on the back. A much smaller paperback. A series of other odds and ends that may be part of the same set of merchandise (i.e. post cards).

Timothy picks up the plastic tablet and weighs it in his hand, inspecting it noncommittally. He puts it down and moves to the bookstand. To pass the time before the tour begins he picks up the paperback and flicks through it for anything of interest.

Timothy manages to read a few lines before the shopkeep comes marching over and clears her throat. "Excuse me, this is not a library."

Timothy looks up with mild annoyance. "Excuse me, I don't believe it's any of your business. And you've certainly lost what little chance you had of my business, so you've got no business. Good day. Your book was shit anyway."

He chucks the book back on the bookstand and strides out past the shopkeeper. He decides to go to where the tour is due to start and wait there until it does.

The shop keep snorts and places it back more carefully, muttering under his breath in German as Timothy strides out.
A woman comes over to the signpost, shuffling from foot to foot, and scuffing the marble flooring. She twists the bottom of her shirt this way and that, then rubs at her chin, seeming nervous. Her nose and cheeks are still red, as though she'd been blushing. She's dressed in the Pergammon museum tour guide outfit but she seems really out of place amidst the very outgoing staff that normally populate this area. Her name tag reveals that the woman is no other than Natasha Chaikovskaya.

Timothy walks over to her. "Excuse me, are you Miss Chaikovskaya? I'm Timothy Wells, I'm going on the expedition to Kamchatka soon and was wondering if you could give me any extra information on the Tablets?"

He tries to give an easy smile and extends a hand in greeting.

Timothy's phone rings.

Chaikovskaya flinches as he approaches her. "Uh, the guide'll be on soon. I mean, the tour. Hold all questions until the, uh, tour, please," she says, in German with a mild Russian accent.

Go to The Exhibit Thread.