Bizzyboys H.Q.

[carefulinspekshun]

The Bizzyboy's headquarters is, in truth, just Hector's house, but it's more than the apartment he'd run it out of before.

The main room of the home has been pulled apart from what was once a living room to a "base of operations," with a couple desks, a few filing cabinets, and a phone. Cabinets stand tall, filled with cluttered supplies, and most of the desks are presently empty, save for two: a particularly orderly one, and another covered in notes, doodles, and garbage. Dividing screens separate what appear to be the more resided in parts of the home, and they appear, at a glance, to be cluttered with the furniture that was moved out of the "main office."

Upon entering, a door chimes, from where a little bell was jury-rigged just above the edge. It doesn't take long for the leader of the Bizzyboys (or his first in command) to make an appearance from somewhere inside!

(Open to visits, calls, or any other manners of run-in!)

Comments

CURRENT CASES

[carefulinspekshun]

Upon a cork board hanging on the wall, there are scraps of paper hanging, detailing the Bizzyboys' currently ongoing projects and their assignments as follows:

(None yet, but soon!)

Intie-views

[staybizzy]

So you want to be a Bizzyboy, do ya?

Well drop on by! Capochin is always in the office when he's not in the field. Though it's easier if you call ahead to make sure he's got time. He is, after all, very Bizzy.

At your appointed time, he waves you back to the desk he's set up. He's short, and his blue-green face is only just fully visible from behind the normal-human-sized wooden desk. His tail curls above him like a periscope. "Sit, sit. You want a coffee or anythin' before we get started?" His thick and cartoonish Brooklyn accent makes it even harder to take him seriously. He sounds gruff and nasally, like an animated mafioso. His silly little paws grip the side of the desk. He looks like a stuffed animal, with the energy of a disgruntled Italian uncle.

This is going to be a very interesting job.

Accidental Intie-view (or J Joins Da Bizzyboys)

[theydrewfirstblood]

He's been by before, he's met Hector, and he's just sticking his head in to say hi...

The offer comes from the desk before he can say anything, and before John Rambo knows it he's sitting across from a tiny blue-green primate-esque person who sounds like a distant uncle on his father's side he just barely remembers. He's pretty sure he's not even remembering his mobster accent right, he was four and time distorts memories.

He's gonna be hard pressed not to try and pick the little critter up and squish him like a plushie.

"Uh...sure? I mean--coffee sounds good." John replies. "Listen, I'm--"

[staybizzy]

Capochin hops right back up, trotting over to where a metal carafe is keeping some coffee from the morning warm, pouring John a cup. "Don't worry if you ain't got a resume or nothin', we ain't so formal," Capo assures him, cutting of what he assumes to be nervous rambling.

He returns with the cup, passing it over. "So! What's your name, kid?"

[theydrewfirstblood]

"John." he replies, distracted by accepting the coffee. "But I should..."

He pauses, sipping the coffee.

"...I should--"

John blinks, stares down at his cup, and takes another sip. It's not great coffee by general standards, but it's great by his. Look, Army joe wrecked his taste buds.

He looks back up at the other guy, visibly surprised, his protests momentarily forgotten.

"This is fucking amazing coffee." he huffs with a little smile, going back for a third sip. And a fourth.

...yeah, this guy's not his type, but if he were, John would be flirting badly for more of his coffee alone...

[staybizzy]

"Hey, t'anks," Capochin replies with just a bit more brightness, pleased with himself. "And there's more where dat came from if you get the job, eh?"

He takes a seat once more, grabbing a paper. "So, what kinda gig you lookin' for? We got full time, part time, and freelance."

[acceptandadapt]

Yeah, alright. She might as well be doing this.

It wasn't as though she's got a job yet, of course. She'd considered joining the Enforcers, but thinking back on how that went last time, that's... likely not a great idea, when taking everything into account. She's never had a great draw to the arts, a personal garden is enough farming for her, and nothing else that she's considered has enough of a challenge to it, as absurd as that feels. What can she say? She likes to solve a puzzle, to get the satisfaction of a problem sorted out, a mystery uncovered, one way or another.

So, when an advertisement looking for "investigators, go-getters, and problem solvers" got posted to the board, all strange spellings (and passive-aggressive placement to the other local detectives' ads) aside, she couldn't find a reason not to look into it. All this free time of hers is starting to lose its charm, anyhow.

(Besides, she's done worse, job-wise. At least it's not the Magnus Institute.)

Maybe she should've expected, from the advertisement, to be getting interviewed by a little monkey-man. It's a good thing she's had all these years not to look fazed by these sorts of instances. The call ahead of time keeps his voice from being too much of a surprise, but that voice out of this little guy is going to take some getting used to. All types of worlds out there, apparently.

"Coffee's great, thank you," Basira closes the front door behind her, moving to drop the bag off her shoulder beside the chair. "Hope I'm not running too late. The snow's made getting anywhere take longer than I've been expecting it to."

[staybizzy]

"Eh, whaddaya gonna do, weather's weather," Capochin agrees, apparently not too concerned as he pours her a coffee from the metal carafe near his desk. He slides it over, along with a dish full of sugar cubes. "Outta cream, sorry 'bout dat. Hector ain't come back with more yet."

He offers a furry hand to shake, with short, blunt claws at the ends. "Capochin Bastone. Second in command of the Bizzyboys. And you?"

[acceptandadapt]

"Basira Hussain." She shakes the hand offered to her, taking a seat. A couple sugar cubes in the coffee, and she takes it with a short nod of thanks, using it mostly to warm her hands for the time being. "Good to meet you, Mr. Bastone."

Basira looks a bit out of place here, considering she's nearly twice Capochin's height, and twice as serious at least. The mental image that lingers for a moment is hysterical, quite frankly: her standing tall over a team of little teal guys, working as part of an absurd little team with as little hesitation as she gives just about anything else in her life. Maybe after all the things she's seen, though, some workplace levity is what she needs.

"I brought a resume with me, if you need it," Basira offers, nodding slightly to where her bag sits. "The ad didn't mention it, but I thought I'd have it, just in case."

[staybizzy]

"Eh, we don't worry too much about dat, seein' as we're used to takin' rookies, down and outs, people with no job experience, people who just don't know how to write one... But I won't say no, makes my life easier."

He holds out a fuzzy hand to receive the paper in question, the other going for his own cup of coffee. He wrinkles his nose. Seems like maybe it went cold.

Re: Intie-views

[when_a_grids_misaligned]

Moiré's getting sick of not having a job - holding out for an opportunity in their field, which there aren't many of on this little Victorian island, feels less worth it every week they spend being lulled to sleep by the sounds of rowdy drunk people - and the ad sounded like the kind of thing they did with their motley back in DC, except they'd get paid for it and hopefully run into fewer murderers. The 'boy' in the job title sticks in their craw a bit, they haven't been keeping up their estrogen supply from the astonishingly well-stocked local apothecary just to get called a boy all day, but there was that footnote specifically saying that all genders were welcome; if it weren't for that, they wouldn't have bothered.

The interviewer looks and sounds like a goofy little guy, but honestly he's just on the high end of the weirdness range they've seen from other changelings; their old Autumn Court monarch looked like an anthropomorphic woodland creature in a little pair of spectacles and wasn't any taller.

"Yeah, sure, coffee sounds great." They take a seat.

[staybizzy]

"Comin' right up," Capochin agrees, turning to the little metal carafe by his desk and grabbing a clean cup from the little stacking set that he's thrifted. He fills the cup before passing it over, along with a little bowl of sugar cubes. "If ya want cream, I'll hafta go get it. I don't wanna leave it out when I ain't usin' it. The sooner these folks invent almond milk, the better it'll be for everyone whose gotta share a room with me."

If the voice didn't give away Capochin's middle-agedness, certainly the TMI complaints about assorted bodily ailments must do the trick. He offers a hand to shake, covered in short teal fur like a thick peach fuzz.

"Capochin Bastone. Second in command of da Bizzyboys."

[when_a_grids_misaligned]

It occurs to Moiré that they have no idea how you milk an almond. Or what sort of equipment might be required.

"I don't need it, and it sounds like it's better if I don't put either of us through that," they say, straight-faced. They drop a few sugar cubes into the coffee. Setting it aside, they extend a hand gloved in white like a classic cartoon to shake Capochin's fuzzy one.

"Moiré Myrekrig. Formerly of the Autumn Court."

Just Visiting (?)

[theydrewfirstblood]

...the actual...fuck?...

John sees the posted flier, the addendum with its little sketch--and he's pretty sure he's even seen one of these little guys scuttling around town. He wasn't sure, but...this clinches it.

He can't think about it too hard or he'll start snickering--not out of disdain. Yeah, it's ridiculous, but the fact is that John appreciates ridiculous. He's fond of the absurd. He respects anything this over the top and this plain old earnest.

These fellas ain't kidding, and he just--he has to see it for himself.

He doesn't flinch at the bell, lots of shops in town have them. Looking around with keen interest, John's a little bit impressed with the setup. The whole billboard posting is kinda nuts, but someone here has a fairly level head. Maybe it's just eccentricity?...

"Hello?" he calls out, moving further into the apartment. "Anyone home?..."

[carefulinspekshun]

"Oh! Be with yew in just one second!"

The voice, upbeat in something that's a ridiculous-sounding sibling to a Bronx accent, comes from the back. The man of the house makes himself present after just a minute, wrapped up in the middle of shuffling off a new-but-already-thoroughly-stained apron to hang by the entrance to the kitchen. In spite of his slightly absurd appearance, he holds himself tall (well, as tall as he can, being fairly short) and proud, giving John a grin that practically radiates enthusiasm.

"Hey, nice to meet'cha! Yew here from the ad?" Cripes, this guy is tall. Why is everybody here so godsdamned tall? And he looks like he could break Hector in half if he tried. (They need that kind of muscle, though, honestly.) That doesn't stop him from offering a hand to shake, fuzzy and clawed but ever-confident. "I'm Hector! And who do I got tha pleasure of speakin' with today?"

[theydrewfirstblood]

...oh no, this critter is fucking adorable.

John can't help but smile at his appearance: an actual anthropomorphic little...primate of some kind. Maybe? He's lean as hell, working some opposable thumbs, and he can talk. The way he talks--John's kind of in love with it.

"Uh--yeah, sorta. I was mostly curious 'bout the whole operation." he replies, gesturing with a small glass bottle in his hand as he offers the other one to shake as he looks down at him. "Name's John Rambo, I run Baker Ranch up in Northwest Hollow. No real, uh...'case' to speak of, but I brought some dandelion syrup as a kinda housewarming gift. Besides raising animals, we do a lot of forage farming, small batch goods, stuff like that."

[carefulinspekshun]

Just checking things out? A shame, but Hector can work with that. Word's getting out already! That just means he'll have to put on his best face, make sure this guy leaves with something to talk about. (Eugh, he feels like he's on the campaign trail all over again.)

Hector shakes his hand firmly, eyeing that bottle with clear interest as it's gestured with. A housewarming gift! The people here sure are friendly.

"Huh! I didn't know yew could make syrup with dandy-lions. I learn something new every day here!" Hector takes the bottle when it's offered, turning it over a couple times in his hands, before lifting it with a grin. He almost considers taking a drink from it. Almost. "Thanks, neighbor! We're still gettin' set up, but how'z'about I give yew a little tour, get'cha up to speed?"

He's already taking a few steps back into the rest of the room by the time he asks, already gearing up to give this new face a tour. Trying to turn over a new leaf doesn't quite mean he's gotten past being exceptionally presumptuous, after all.

"We've got our base of op-her-ray-shuns all set up, of cawse, but we're still gettin' all our pieces together! It's just me n' one other fella right now, but plenty of space to grow. Before I get into too much of it, though, I gotta know! Was yewr home world much like the one we're in now, Mr. Rambo?"

[elvaquerito]

Godpoke is trotting merrily through town, enjoying the sights, when they pass the community billboard.

They halt, and backtrack. That all sure looks familiar, don't it?

Curious, they follow the instructions to the address on the paper, and they head inside. It's a cute set-up! They see Capochin's office currently unoccupied, but Hector's...

Well, they do what they do best when it comes to gods, both extant and former: they barge right in and stand in the doorway silently.

[carefulinspekshun]

"Doo-doot-dee-doo... aaand if weee..." A crunch, evidently the source of him not hearing the front door bell jingle, comes from a paper bag of what seems to be, ostensibly, croutons. He continues to mutter to himself, despite the mouthful of snacks muffling his idle rambling. "Schedule dis fo'w da beginning o' Abril, dat'll give ush time tew get da inn-gree-gee-ensh togedder and book out da Feshtival Green, n' teash Hugo how t'cook..."

A chanced glance up by pure circumstance has him stop in his tracks, though - one can practically hear the screeching wheels of his train of thought coming to a halt, just by looking at his face.

He scrambles to swallow roughly, bungles it, winds up coughing a bit from breathing in a few crumbs, before he clears his throat harshly, giving Godpoke a grin that can only be described as mortifyingly embarrassed. He's visibly sweating bullets.

"H-hey there, dep-yew-tee! Yew sure, uh--- know how to sneak up on a guy, don't'cha?"

A beat, and he furrows his brows. That grin doesn't fade. (It looks significantly more forced the more stressed he looks, though.)

"Wait, I didn't realize yew were in town! Did yew... just get here?"

[elvaquerito]

Godpoke nods repeatedly, and you can almost hear the slide whistle go up. They don't seem to be concerned about the crumbs literally at all.

Megapon is still in their hand, which they produce from their back. The newly acquired Bizzyboy J's voice can be heard from it when they pull the trigger. "Hey, your flier." Then they gesture around. Hopefully he picks up what they're putting down.

"Is everything okay?" asks Megapon in Valdis' voice.

[carefulinspekshun]

"Well shore! Everything's been just fine!"

His reply's just a little too bright to be convincing to someone who knows him. Probably not anyone else, either, really.

"We got da Bizzyboys started fresh, and we're makin' real good moves! I been turnin' over a new leaf!" He presses a hand to his chest to accentuate the honesty of the fact. "I mean, 'course, we died, but it's--- y'know, diff-fur-rent here, right? And there's da curse to deal with, but what town don't got its problems?"

He doesn't exactly sound convinced of the last part.

"Come on in, though, have a seat! I owe yew some time to chat, considerin' the... everything from bee-four. Sowwy about that, by da way."

"job interview" | time is soup, generally post-Merrymeet

[shaboingboingtime]

Since Alexei is staying in this place, and Capo's here, and so are some of the guys, and they're bringing back the Bizzyboys...

This will be fun. Alexei is already looking forward to it. Cap's still so upset about everything (and he keeps muttering that nickname to himself, Lex, he kinda likes it and how fuzzy it makes him feel) so making a point of coming in for a job intyview seems like a nice way to make sure he knows Alexei isn't upset, and that they can start over and still be like they used to be!

He even moseyed on over to J's place for a stack of shaboingboings. A real nice lady at the inn lets him use the kitchen, so when he gets to the house he's got a basket filled with fresh grilled hot dogs dripping with onions, sweet relish, and even a jar of mustard a real big fella in the kitchen slips him when he finds out Alexei knows J.

Knocking would be proper for a real life job interview, but old habits die hard: Alexei tries the door, lets himself in, and without thinking starts nosing around the house for signs of Capochin.

[carefulinspekshun]

When Alexei enters the home, a bell jingles, and footsteps in a side-room stop for a mere beat. Music plays from an old gramophone, a tune of lazy-yet-chipper brass filling the air of the "office" area of the headquarters. When the voice calls out from the office, it isn't Capochin's, and the footsteps, though not moving to the door, are too heavy to be his, anyhow.

"Ooooone second, I'll be right wif yew!"

Another step, then two, then three. Humming is only interrupted by occasional, good-natured mumbling to himself. It sounds like he's organizing papers, if the shuffling is anything to go off of.

[shaboingboingtime]

Alexei's face lights up when he hears Hector's voice--blessedly familiar and still weirdly new. It's been so long since he's gotten to talk to him like they used to when he was younger, so long since he's really gotten to talk to him at all! Sure, he likes his burgies better than his shaboingboings, but Alexei's been working on a project that could, quite possibly, revolutionize both as the world knows them...

Hastily, he sets his basket down and rummages around to get them together...

...and when Hector enters the room, Alexei is standing there with two hot dogs, one in each hand, carefully wrapped in a napkin.

"Devotion burgies? Dey's for da boids." Alexei snorts, beaming with pride. "I got a couple'a friendship shaboinboings wit' relish and some good spicy mustard. Whatcha say, Heck?"

[carefulinspekshun]

At first, Hector doesn't get a good look at him, looking behind him to pull the office door shut behind him. That makes the sound of that familiar voice all that much quicker to leave him stunned for a moment, before excitement rushes in like a tide, brightening his entire demeanor. (It's practically a fight not to abandon the papers in his arms to the floor in his rush over.)

"Alexei! Wh--- when did yew--- cripes, that smells good, did yew make these?" Hector stumbles over his words with a laugh, taking one of the hotdogs offered over. "It's good to see yew, buddy! I saw some of tha other boys during the festival, but I didn't real-eyes yew stuck around! How yew been?"