okay, who's the head honcho here?

[confidenceman]

"Stupid— piece of crap—"

Not a morning person on the best of days, when Sawyer woke up to some unknown weight blocking his door, he again began to consider the potential merits of packing it all up and moving into the Compound. However depressing the building was, it at least offered reliable air conditioning, and the bolts of the doors weren't the type to expand in the rain or creak from too much rust. His door jammed, and frequently, the hut initially chosen because Sawyer was too damn impatient to wait for the Building Crew to give him a new place all his own, and later on, too damn lazy to pack up his stuff to move from one spot to another. But there was something different about the resistance the door put up today. Shoving his shoulder against the wood almost made it... bounce.

Strange.

Briefly considering rounding the hut to climb out the window, Sawyer gave his door one last, lengthy shove, until he felt something skidding against dirt, slipping through the cracked opening, only to stumble, his hands grabbing onto something that felt distinctly familiar. Almost like heavy-duty shrink wrap. The sound of ruffling papers fluttered in the distance, and pages upon pages spilled out over the dirt in any number of brilliant colors, with cars, trucks, and SUVs on each cover.

But, aside from a moment's confusion as to why it looked like every issue of Car and Driver magazine had appeared on his doorstop, what drew Sawyer's attention the most was a heavy pallet of toilet paper blocking entrance to his home. Toilet paper.

Charmin's, looked like.

"The hell?"


[ Yes, that's right. All of Car and Driver magazine has turned up on Sawyer's doorstep. As well as a year's supply of Charmin's best toilet paper. This post is dated January 25th, but will be linked to the main comm in February. ST/LT welcome, no limit on tags, open to all. ]

Comments

[notfaking_it]

She probably should have offered to help.

Truth was, she'd been on her way over anyway, not necessarily to check up on him, Lily would never call it something like that, but to see what he was doing, if maybe he wanted to join her for lunch again. At least, that was what she would say she was doing there, it was what she'd convinced herself she was doing, too. There was no reason to check up on him, but that didn't stop her from doing it sometimes, always under the guise of lunch.

This time, though, she saw the toilet paper first. She saw the door bouncing off it second. The magazines were third and she registered the sound of Sawyer's voice last as she stood in front of his hut, a hand held over her mouth to stop her laughter. Whatever was happening, it was amazing, and a soft laugh escaped anyway as he made his way out of the hut.

[confidenceman]

The sound of laughter was enough to draw accusations immediately to mind, Sawyer's hackles raising before he could even fully make sense of what was happening. Only when he saw exactly who it was standing out there outside his hut, in the way that she'd come to more often as of late, did he find himself mildly placated, enough not to lose his cool entirely right then and there. (Nonetheless, he could feel his cheeks burning from something between embarrassment and shame.)

"Right, I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and say you probably ain't the type to laugh at your own jokes," muttered Sawyer, trying his best to maintain his calm, but still half-tempted to give the pallet of toilet paper a nice, thorough kick. He managed to suppress the temptation. Turning back in the direction of the goods, Sawyer's hands rested on his hips, and he simply shook his head at the sight.

"I don't get it. The hell's this here for?"

[notfaking_it]

"Your sensitive bottom?" Lily suggested through her fingers before she finally dropped her hand and joined Sawyer, standing at his side to look at the toilet paper and the magazines. There was no sense hiding the fact that she was laughing when he could hear it in every word she spoke. The fact that his face looked a little red made the entire situation that much more endearing and she had to bite down on her lower lip as she tried not to grin. That was proving to be incredibly difficult, though, no matter what she tried.

Even after nearly a year on the island, she'd never seen anything quite like this.

"Is this the type of thing someone might do as a joke?" she asked. The way he spoke made it seem like he thought it might be, but she didn't know where anyone on this island might get that many magazines or that much toilet paper. "If they did, it looks like they got you a lifetime subscription."

[confidenceman]

A mess of emotions ran through Sawyer at her response. On one hand, it was damned good to hear her laugh. Sawyer knew that he'd caused Lily any amount of trouble and headache shortly after Kate's departure, almost forcing her to gather broken shards of a man and try to piece him back together as well as she could, knowing as little as she did. She'd proven herself to be patient, and the look in her eyes had been earnestly worried, Sawyer would go so far as to say. Knowing that he wouldn't constantly cause her that type of turmoil was necessary in maintaining that friendship.

He didn't want to be that needy of a person around her.

But irritation ran through his mind as well, none of it directed at the girl by his side, and all of it instead on whoever— or whatever— had decided to give him such an elegant gift in front of someone he actually cared to impress.

"Oh, sonuvabitch," he muttered, as soon as the connection between the two gifts became clear. "Seein' as how I doubt anyone's made a toilet paper assembly line just to prank me in the mornin'... looks like the island's struck again. Ha, ha, very funny."

[notfaking_it]

"It's your present," Lily realized, her smile growing and her eyes lighting up at the idea. All over the island now, she'd been seeing people with their gifts, ranging from practical to things like Jeff's dog, which wasn't necessarily impractical, but it did border on absurd. Her own gift -- the iPod and the speaker dock -- was getting a fair amount of use already, mostly in the studio, but she was using an awful lot at home as well. It was nice to just be able to have music playing again, even just as background noise.

"Oh, come on," she said, hooking her arm through Sawyer's without a thought before she leaned forward slightly to get a better look at some of the magazines. "Maybe this is just the island's way of suggesting you need..." But she had nothing to follow that and she shrugged up at him helplessly. "More time to relax and read all these magazines? Is it a magazine you read a lot before?"

[confidenceman]

"The hell kinda present is that? Huh? What exactly is it tryin' to tell me, that I sit my damn ass on the toilet too many hours in a day? 'Cause lemme tell ya, the island'd be better off pickin' on the newer folks. Everyone else gets used to eatin' like Tarzan and gang," muttered Sawyer, still shaking his head periodically, staring at the pallet with his hands held on his hips. "Though first time I get off this island, I'll make sure never to eat another damn mango in my life."

The magazines received another glowering look as he spotted a familiar cover on one of them, the red sheen still kept in nearly perfect condition in spite of all of the loans he'd raised, and trying to account for debts that try to keep coming in.

"And yeah, I read Car and Driver. No self-respectin' man with a love of cars can go without buyin' a subscription to that."

[notfaking_it]

"Well, I don't get the toilet paper," she admitted, though she was sure there were some people on the island who'd be happy for it. Sometimes having something that was high quality, something from home, was appealing, even if it was only toilet paper. "But the magazine makes sense, then. It makes a lot more sense than some of the gifts I've seen people get. Dogs they don't want or tools they don't know how to use..."

At least the magazine was something he liked.

"I woke up one morning to an iPod and a speaker dock in my place," she said. It was another gift that made sense, as far as she was concerned. It was something she used all the time, something she had always known she missed, but hadn't been aware just how much until it was there again, available for her all the time.

[confidenceman]

"Well hell, I'd take an iPod!" Sawyer exclaimed, rubbing the heel of his palm momentarily against his eye, as though brushing away an irritant, or trying to reassure himself of what he was actually seeing, and Sawyer wasn't quite sure which. Usually, he didn't see any reason to get upset over presents. For the lot that were capable of being shared, all it took was worming into a person's good graces to get some use out of those presents. Besides, the island already gave him more, and on a regular, reliable basis, than he'd ever had in his life.

So it wasn't really greed that had him flabbergasted, or the feeling that somehow, he deserved more than this.

It was the fact that he couldn't still help feeling like the butt of a joke.

"It's bathroom luxuries," he concluded, waving a hand at it all. "Bathroom luxuries. When you're sittin' on the crapper and decide that you need somethin' to read. That's what you lay out. Magazines. Shit."

[notfaking_it]

"Oh, come on," Lily said, squeezing his arm gently before she tipped her face up to look at him. It wasn't the nicest of presents, she could admit that, and when it was put like that she could see why he wouldn't be very happy with it, but she still didn't want him to be upset over it. Maybe mentioning her gift hadn't been the most graceful way to handle the situation.

"You want some help cleaning this up?" she asked. "Then we can devise some brilliant way to distract you." It might not work, but it was the best she had to offer most of the time. And she liked Sawyer. It was useless to even try and deny that, especially to herself, although she'd certainly tried for awhile. She liked him and she wanted the people she liked to be happy, even if it was only a gift making them happy at the time.

She wanted the island to have given him something he'd like.

[little_moons]

Walking up to his hut, I've just kinda been standing here. Staring. Since before he even started trying to shove his way outside. I guess I should've helped.

Oops.

"What the fuck?"

[confidenceman]

"I ain't got the slightest clue," I reply first, not even needing to look his way as I continue to survey the huge stack of toilet paper rolls in front of me. Car and Driver, I guess I could appreciate more, but hell, I know I could probably get all of that from the bookshelf if I really wanted. Made me wonder if perhaps it was someone's idea of a belated Christmas present.

Then, blinking, I realize belatedly that Neil's just standing there.

"So where the hell were you when I was tryin' to shove my way outta my damn hut?" I ask, frowning.

[little_moons]

"Standin' here," I admit with a crooked grin, a shrug and a half-assed, "Sorry."

Leaning down to pick up one of the packages of toilet paper, I arch a brow and say, "At least it's the good stuff."

Not the shit Mom used to buy. Barely one-ply and sold in bulk. She'd even snatch rolls from the bathroom at her work, sometimes, when things were really tight.

[confidenceman]

"Well I ain't got any clue about what the 'good stuff' means when it comes to this crap," I growl, glaring at Neil for all of a few seconds, 'cause seriously? Not at least telling me what the hell I was tryin' to fight my way against in opening that door? Sure, I know a lot of the Oceanic survivors would've done that, but Neil, hell. Could've shown a little more love.

I hold myself silent for a bit, but I just can't help asking. "What in the hell makes this island think that I'd want any of this, anyhow? What's it tryin' to say?"

[little_moons]

"That your ass is in need of some tender, loving care?" I guess, flashing him a bullshit grin and tossing the package in my hands at him, making sure that cheerful little cartoon bear on the front is facing him.

"This is fuckin' weird, man. And I got a cow, once."

[confidenceman]

Y'know, my mind wouldn't even go there were it not for that damn grin of his. Shoot. Been spending too much time with Neil, clearly, and that sends my thoughts places I don't ever want them to go. "If that's the case, they might as well have sent some Michael Jackson my way. Would've dealt better with a sequined jacket."

I scratch the back of my neck. Now that Neil's mentioned it, it really does seem like this place is trying to make number two a more enjoyable time. And I don't know why, but it pisses me off.

"You made damn good use of that cow," I point out a second later, not sure where I'm going with this. "There ain't nothin' I can do with this."

[little_moons]

"I don't even know what the fuck that's supposed to mean," I admit, bending down to riffle through the stack of magazine's left for him, too.

He's right. This is seriously fucking weird.

"Don't look at me, man. I don't get this place, half the fuckin' time. Maybe Santa got your wishlist mixed up with somebody else's."

[confidenceman]

"I don't have a friggin' wishlist," I mutter, wondering if maybe that's the reason for the island choosing to dump something as useless as all this on my doorstop. It ain't like I've never had wishlists before, even on the island itself. Got myself some guns last year that have come in damn handy, even if mostly for hunting, instead of the defending I completely expected to do. Then again, what else is there that I'd expect? Even hope to find here? Other than making sure I can protect myself when need be, I ain't got wishes or hopes high in the air like that. "But I got guns last year. Hell, all the island has to do is give me more guns every year and I'd be happy as a clam."

Knowing that I'll probably have to get on with it sooner or later, I start trying to figure out where exactly I'm supposed to start taking all of this down. Fingers prying through plastic and all.

[missingthekeep]

"Now what in the hell're ye doin'?" Sean asks, crossing his arms and looking distinctly amused as he comes across Sawyer tumbling awkwardly out of his own home. Maybe the answer is obvious, but as far as presents from on high go, this one seems expressly designed for the entertainment of all involved as opposed to that of the recipient.

[confidenceman]

Sawyer isn't new to the idea of being laughed at. Being made an ass of. (And with the gift of toilet paper, what else is he supposed to think of this as?) Still, something in him bristles when he finds that he isn't alone, and his only saving grace is the fact that Sean Cassidy doesn't tend to blow things out of proportion. He's a decent guy. Someone Sawyer can hang around and have a drink or two with.

But, hell.

"What does it look like I'm doin'?" he asks, snorting, rubbing under his nose with the back of his hand— maybe it's lint that tickles his nose now, he thinks. "Tryin' to leave my own friggin' hut, and findin' myself facing all this. Someone's idea of a well-constructed prank."

[missingthekeep]

"Someone or somethin'," Sean amends, stepping to examine the stack of magazines and still smirking faintly. "S'pose it's useful enae, at least, if'n a tad more unwieldy'n a good gift ought t'be. Need a hand?"

[confidenceman]

"Yeah, yeah, we've all heard the sentient island theories, but s'far as I'm concerned," Sawyer goes on, waving his hand vaguely through the air and thinking of dark, billowing smoke and howls in the distance, "you know how to think like a person, I'm gonna call you a someone and not a thing. Doin' otherwise might just piss the island gods off even more."

He thinks of Jacob, and of how much people are willing to sacrifice or do in the name of someone who's never appeared in front of them, someone who has only strange weather patterns serving as a show of power.

Crossing his arms, he surveys the pile. "Give you a few dozen rolls if you want 'em, and if you help me carry it all inside. It'd be a nightmare if the rain got to it."

[missingthekeep]

Sean merely quirks an eyebrow at Sawyer's assessment of their mysterious benefactors, saying nothing. He's never gone so far out of his way to avoid pissing someone off, gods or otherwise, and while he's paid the price for it plenty of times as well, he doesn't see that changing any time soon. Let it never be said that he isn't a man of his convictions, no matter how occasionally asinine. The island remains nothing more than a cursed hunk of rock with the odd perk.

"Sounds like a fair trade t'me," he says simply, eying the pallet. "So how're we doin' this? Piecemeal?"

[confidenceman]

"'less you think there's a way to shove this through my tiny-ass doorway, I'm assumin' it's the only choice we've got," Sawyer points out, reaching into his pocket for a small folding knife that he promptly drags through the plastic. All things considered, given the short amount of time he's had to grow accustomed with the idea of a giant pallet of toilet paper being right in front of his house, he thinks he's adjusted well. And quickly.

Which just says a whole damn lot about this place. Everyone gets used to the chaos. (He still prefers the other island, in his way, knowing that there's a way off that rock. That the rest of the world still turns around him. But the unpredictability holds pretty steady between the both of them.)

"So. Birthday coming up, mm?" Sawyer asks, glancing in Sean's direction before tossing a couple four-packs of toilet paper his way.

[missingthekeep]

"Funny how they seem to do that every year, aye?" Sean asks wryly, catching the rolls and tucking them under one arm. Gone are the days when he could simply let the day slip past unnoticed even to Meredith, but oddly enough, that's a perk that he doesn't actually miss as much as he once thought he would. "So long as no one thinks they'll get away wi' makin' a big deal out of't, I'm sure I'll weather it foine, though."

[confidenceman]

He laughs, if only because it seems like the two of them always manage to find more that they share. Sawyer hasn't really enjoyed celebrating his birthday since the last one that he had with his parents, and even then he remembers it being twice as enjoyable for the fact that their marriage didn't feel so strained on those days, when Sawyer himself became the focus, rather than everything else which swirled around their small little family. Since their deaths, though, there was nothing much for Sawyer to focus on, each birthday just a reminder of what he didn't have, and what he didn't care to celebrate. The more time passed, the further away he was from them. That was all.

"Well damn," he says, snapping his fingers. "I had the bakery all lined up to help that girl of yours jump out from a giant cake. Would've been fun."