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“Piece of shit,” he grumbled under a gravely breath, his patience falling apart like the broken rusty key in the ancient lock, a hand rising to drag down the centre of his face. Everything in this place was as rusty and brittle as the long-abandoned fishing boats at the pier, neglected and left to the salt air. he shouldn’t have been surprised to find that some of the more time-weathered structures of the lighthouse would be resistant to the new pair of hands attempting to pry it open. Figures it would be the office door though, where most of the technical equipment and power grids sat behind, that would be the one to be a stubborn jackass. He resisted the urge to kick the thick wood as he squeezed half of the key into his palm.[break][break]

Rolling his shirt sleeves up near his elbows, Bryn descended back down the long winding staircase, floorboards creaking and particles glittering as light filtered through the small windows; probably not the last time today. He hit the bottom floor with a brisk walk, throwing the remains of the snapped, now useless key on the kitchen table and passing the Ampharos with a broom gripped in her flippers, her beady black eyes blinking as she stopped sweeping dust out of the door. “I’m heading out, won’t be long,” he threw vaguely over his shoulder at the last minute, briefly forgetting that he wasn’t alone anymore, that he now had a living thing to tell of his comings and goings. Ampharos – or Lucy, as he had been told she was named – quirked her head at him imploringly and watched Bryn from the door as he walked down the path that led from the lighthouse. [break][break]

It wouldn’t hurt to leave her and Nine alone for a few minutes, just while he went to find some tools. [break][break]

His closest neighbour, which he found after a few minutes’ walk along the coast and sheltered just slightly out of sight by a line of trees, bustled with life to the sound of pokemon cries and slamming screen doors. They seemed to be in; this chore might end up being quickly resolved, thank fuck. [break][break]

hands in his pockets bryn approached the active residence, scanning for life in which he could converse with, before falling upon someone reclining back; a still image amongst all the pokemon roaming about. “Hey, you there,” he calls, stopping on the edge of the house perimeter with but the wooden fence separating him from the lounging woman, an indelicate greeting when she may very well be dozing in the sun, especially considering how many beer cans were at her feet. “You wouldn’t happen to have any tools I could borrow for a bit, would you?”
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notes – i need them for not-illegal activities[break][break]

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“Something like that,” he uttered as the woman asked if he had broken down, eyes narrowing and drifting off towards the direction of the lighthouse, expression twitching into something sour at the thought of the state of the facility. It may very well be described as a rusted, broken down antique at this point. So in a way she wasn’t too far off. The previous lighthouse keeper had left the place in a bit of a state. [break][break]

“I’ve got a jammed door that I need to get into, but it’s putting up a bit of a fight,” he sighed, hand rising to his hair to card his fingers through the strands, looking a little frustrated at his predicament. Bryn’s fingers paused halfway, stilling on top of his head as if it had suddenly clicked in his brain how that may sound. A stranger asking someone for tools to bust down a door, he’d be suspicious if the tables were flipped. “My own door, I mean. I just moved in...” He grimaced a little at how weak of an excuse that sounded, even if it was the truth. [break][break]

“Bryn Hollis. I'm the new lighthouse keeper.” Frowning, mostly at his own ineptitude and the slight awkwardness that he may come across as a burglar, Bryn stiffly stuck his hand out towards the woman, or rather his new neighbour, to offer a greeting shake.

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notes – i need them for not-illegal activities[break][break]

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