Well, who knew he’d showed up to the Stray a little too earlier than usual?

There was just… the stress of dealing with way too much paperwork, and Arceus, Lars needed a break. What he wasn’t aware of, at least not at the moment, was that the bar wasn’t open at the time he’d decided to drop by and pay an unannounced visit.

He was met with the sight of a closed bar. Frowning slightly, he takes out the cigarette he’d lit in the meantime (it really sucked not having vanilla leaves easily available in Hoenn, and he had to order them out) and then starts wondering, where the hell was he going to drink now?

Sighing, he very nearly misses the open door to one of the little structures crammed in the back… wait, it was an open door!

He then slid inside, only to hear a familiar voice.

“What the hell do you keep in here, why is it so dusty?” he called out, taking the stub out and coughing because of all the fucking dust motes spinning in the air.

[attr="class","evantalk"]

"Oh. It's you." Some might say he almost sounded disappointed. As if he expected something a little more exciting, like a face he didn't recognize. That wasn't really the case it was all in jest. One of the many things that tended to make people feel comfortable around Evan was how easily he joked and went along with the fun. This was evident in the fact that he let the disappointment linger in the air for a moment before grinning wide. As if he would do any less when greeting a regular. "Didn't realize the bar itself doesn't open this early huh?" he chuckles because he's not the first to not realize that even if Evan was there and the door was open in the event someone wanted a room they were, in fact, mostly a bar.

He moves to acquire another box, finding that they are slowly but surely clearing out. "It's mostly storage dear, the old man that owned this place before me didn't have it in him to take care of this anymore... and as popular as the place is it was actually on its way to being closed down before i took over" he mellows a moment, it's obvious in his voice as he skims over the contents of a box and sorts it into the growing row that it belongs to. The subject is a solemn one and while every once in awhile someone asks about the old man most have figured out what happened, he's long gone and the Stray passed on in its usual fashion by nothing other than sheer luck- into the hands of a former stray that now calls it home.

"It's been nearly a year now but I'm still trying to catch up." there was no denying that things had begun to slip prior to his return. Some of the oldest have told him how they remember when the old man had stopped having the time and the capacity to take care of some of the things that needed to be taken care of. Evan on the other hand, for all his space cadet power, all his anxiousness over paper work and everything else had if nothing else put effort into giving the old place its old glory. It had never truly lost its charm but the man was forever add new, small touches to make the place shine in a way it hadn't had the chance to in far too many years.

The box is put in place with ease of motion, regardless of the weight. Despite his demeanor and the overbearing kindness he has little trouble with the boxes. Often surprising people with the sheer amount of weight he can handle. "This one looks like it's a lot of old plates" he peaks inside again. "Like really old, I'm pretty sure one of these is a vintage set of some kind?"

Laurence Anderson

“To be honest, no. I was caught by surprise. But can you blame me? I finished my courier route early,” he began with a shrug as he began to pick his way through the dusty environs, stopping every few moments to swerve to avoid some precariously-stacked boxes.

He saw one that was about to fall and quickly threw his arms out to stop the thing from tipping over, spilling out who the hell knew what was inside it.

“Well, to be honest when I came by the Stray you were already the owner, so I didn’t know about the previous owner. Did he just sign it over to you?” he inquires, bringing the box that had almost crashed down on top of him to where Evan was clearing the place out. The box in his hands was slightly heavy, and he was relieved once he’d managed to set it down next to the pile and looked inside.

“Maybe you can get some nice money for selling that,” he remarks, looking at the old plates. “This one I’ve brought over has a… it’s got a tea set. I don’t know if this matches the plates you have there. You think?” he inquired, pulling out a dusty teapot and scuffing one corner of it with the sleeve of his jacket, biting down on the cigarette in his mouth as he tried to clean the porcelain thing in his hands.

“Ooh. It has some nice glaze on it. Think you’ll use this set anytime soon?” he asked Evan. “You could sell this as well. Have a garage sale out of what we find, get some more money for the bar,” he continued with a grin.

[attr="class","evantalk"]

"We're technically a tavern dear, we're open for more than food and drink." not that everyone realizes that. Most assume the Stray has long since given up and left things like room and board to the big hotel chains and chosen to capitalize on their location and existence as a local relic to bring in customers during the night. Every so often though, someone asks about the sign in the window stating they had vacancies and found out the old school experience of staying the night in a tavern still existed in this small place in Hoenn. Though Evan had plans to make a bit more out of the place than that.

He keeps the boxes sorted, mildly, to ensure that he can figure out what to do with them for greater ease in the near future. Tonight is more about assessing what needs to be done with the place before anything else. Clearing out the boxes and cleaning the building are only the beginning. He abondon his box and moves to see what Lars has uncovered in the newest one to be retrieved.

"Thank you, but I have no plans to sell these kinds of things." Evan reaches to take the teapot, seeking to get a better look at it and see if there are any identifying markers concerning the make and age. "There's an empty china cabinet or two in the second floor, I imagine these belonged to it but when the old man began to lose traction he probably had them put in storage for safe keeping."

The old china is a welcome distraction from the conversation. "I think putting these on display would be a much better use of them, especially if I can get some information on the makers." he's pretty sure he recognizes the signature but he'll have to do his research, get them appraised if they're old enough. It wouldn't surprise him because the Stray has stood for a long time. This was just the kind of thing he was looking for to put some life back into the place. Not that it was a lackluster place or anything but Evan had every intention of taking care of it and then some.

"Or maybe one of these buildings back here." he contemplates, glancing at the two buildings, one of which was already in use and the other being the one they were working on. "Would be nice for something like a private room. I'll have to think about it."

He's eager to put it away again and start seeking out another box to determine the contents of. Ever so gently he avoids saying anything about the old man, taking the conversation forward as if the question was never asked to begin with.

Laurence Anderson

“Well, more money wouldn’t hurt—when you have repairs and stock to think about,” he added quietly, moving over and bringing down another precariously-teetering box that looked ready to fall down on them. This box revealed to have books and magazines.

Scuffing the dust off the topmost one, he thumbs through it and quickly puts it back—it’s a photo album of some sort.

“Whoops,” he remarks, before deciding to place the album out on another not so dusty shelf and then picking up the rest of the contents of the box and dusting them down as best as he can.

While some of them were just simple books, others were a collection of newspaper clippings from previous, and curiosity killed the cat so much. Reading through one of them, he lets out a surprised noise. “Huh, really. Didn’t know that,” he remarked before closing the scrapbook that had the collection of newspaper clippings.

Several more photo albums are retrieved from the box, along with what looks like an old ledger. Or was it an inventory list? He didn’t know. Scuffing them down so that they were clean enough, he moves onto the next box, and this time sees it’s full of clothes.

“Just how much stuff is in here?” he asks Evan presently as he sifts through the old clothes, as if looking for something—anything, really—of value. He continues to bring down the boxes on the higher shelves and sifting through them, sorting the contents as best as he can manage in the cramped space between them.

[attr="class","evantalk"]

He seems almost upset by his denial to sell things. Some of it surely, but when you have a place with the kind of history that the Stray did that wasn't as straight forward a thing. For all he knew these where made by someone famous in their early years that stayed at the stray when they were young. The Barkeep at the time may have bought them off of the individual to help them out. It could be a part of the Stray's history being sold off at a garage sale like they were nothing and without further investigation he wasn't going to make such hasty decisions.

"Thank you for your concern Lars, but I'm not worried about having enough money for the place." his smile is sweet because the sentiment is. He knows most people worry greatly about money but his own life style prevented that from being a major issue. Not to mention his own savings were far greater than most people thought. Not to mention other things he did to trim the costs of the place.

With the Extra help moving the boxes around and gaining access to the items in the storage Evan begins to go down a different route. Clearing off a dusty old table with the sleeve of his shirt Evan begins going through a couple of the boxes, sorting the items by whether or not they could be useful, where items of interest/worth investigating more or junk items that he pay try to pawn off and get a little something extra for the place. Evan was big on reusing things though so even the clothes might never leave the building and could possibly end up in a box of extra's in the event someone came by needing it. Or donated rather than pawned.

"A lot. The place is considered to be as old as Rustboro itself is and the only reason most people don't know it is because there' not much use for a tavern in the modern world is there?" he grins, though there something sad in the smile as if he finds it tragic that something like this is being lost in a world that should still see the magic in it somewhere. "The old man was the last in a long line of people that took over this place." he's quiet for a moment, going through the items in the boxes and setting the boxes he was working on in a way that would allow him to repack them in an organized manner.

"Do you know the story of The Stray?"

Laurence Anderson

“I found a collection of clippings, it’s over here,” he called out, reaching for the first thing he’d pulled out of the box and holding it up in Evan’s general direction as he continued to sort through the box of clothes.

“I only know that it’s a bar—admittedly, and that it’s been around a while. I think the collection of clippings has every mention of it in local media,” he added a few moments later, shaking out a long overcoat before examining it for any holes or rips in the fabric.

Once he was done with the clothes, he then moved the box off to one side and tackled another one nearby. This one was pretty big and was rather secured. What was in this one, and why was it sealed so thoroughly? Deciding that this one was going to get his attention, he then pulled it over and tried to prise it open without having to damage the tape that sealed it shut.

“What do you know of the Stray? I only know that you’re the owner, and that there’s another bartender around with you,” he remarked. He wondered if mentioning the dour look on the other barkeep’s face was worth mentioning, but decided not to talk about it unless it was brought up directly by the current owner.

[attr="class","evantalk"]

Evan grins, he's not surprised to find the news articles kept in a box back here and already has an idea. It seems like exactly the kind of thing that should be framed and kept on the walls, proof fo the mark this place once made on the town and if he can help it, will make again before he leaves it's many walls behind. Perhaps that's the goal in this whole thing? He can't be sure. He didn't really think about taking over the place when he did it a year or so ago, it just seemed right. Now that it comes to mind he feels like that might just be what he's meant to do with the place. He'll think about it more later, for now he's a story to tell and Evan is so very fond of telling takes.

"It's a Tavern, technically. Both on paper and in functionality but the rooms are rarely rented out nowadays due to how commonplace hotels are and rgubly, this place isn't going to give you 5 star room and board. This isn't the kind of place and most aren't looking for that. Most of the people that stay the night here are the ones that forgot to book rooms and everywhere else is full, the occasional history buff tourist that found it on the web or something and wanted the experience for themself, occasionally I see gamers and their ilk looking for the closest thing they'll ever get to a real game or movie experience by staying in a place like this." Evan has to laugh t that, because it's baffling what kind of people seem to actually take notice of the open vacancy sign in the window. It's not terribly large, painted onto the same wood sign that has been there for decades. Many seem to think it nothing but decoration because it isn't the same neon and garish attention grabber they are used to seeing.

"The Stray started out as nothing but a building in Rustboro, by a gentleman with not family, no wife, no children. He just wanted to live his simple life and a down to earth little town. If you aren't going to be a farmer something like a tavern is the perfect fit, you'll see all kinds of faces and travelers, never boring but never fussy. It grew in popularity and soon became a mark for the local hoodlums and travelers." his grin couldn't really get any wider, after all he himself fit the bill in more ways than most realized. The story of the place hit home for him. "He could have just shooed them out like everyone else did but instead the gentleman offered them room and board in exchange for help around the place. Even the youngest orphans could do a task for lunch and a wall to sleep against. He gave them a spot by the fire place- which sadly has been removed since then- if it got too cold and gained a reputation for not just caring for them but many turned out to be good members of the community as they aged because of him. The Tavern never had a name, but many started calling it the home of the Strays, because that's who he gave a home to most."

Evan pauses, turning over the item in his hand and letting the story settle for a moment. It was important to give people a moment to think over things when you're telling a long tale. At least he thinks so, and this one is long and important to the local area. "Of course this is a rather short handed version, but long winded one could have us tied up for hours." he chuckles, sorting another box full of items into the categories he wants them in and looking over at Lars for a moment to be sure he still had his attention. "Ultimately though, that was how this place got it''s name.

"It's not grand story, it's no tale of heroes or villains or anything terribly special when you really think about it. Not in that sense. It was simply the life of an old man, caring for people no one else was because he thought it was the right thing to do. When he passed one of the many boys that had grown up in these walls took over, and according to both local stories and one of the only old ledgers still in the back room of the main building, the first thing the kid did was start to set aside money for the sign out front, he commissioned it off one of the regulars at the time. A craftsman that was all too eager to finally give the place it's name once and for all."

Evan sets down the item that was in his hands, having been talking while he was working as he was prone to do. There was something somber in his features as he looked out over the items that had been stored in this old building. He couldn't help but wonder how deep the stories went, how many other tas were lost in he echos of time and the dust. How many lives had wondered through this place without anyone knowing? How many faces had these old walls seen over the years? That was why he couldn't just let it go when the old man was ready.

"It's not a grand story, but I believe this place is something important because of it. It's the kind of story we let go of too easily, and in letting go of it we lose touch with ourselves a little bit more each time we forget them."

he trails off ad goes quiet for a momment, when he returns to sorting the items it's with a smile freshly returned to his face as if the story never really happened, as if the weight his tone put into the words had no real impact at all. It was as if he was simply a good story teller and nothing more.

Because Lars did not need to know how he truly felt about the topic his last comment led into, it was not something he wanted to give a chance to be asked about.

"I took too long to tell that anyway didn't I? Anyway, thank you for helping me Lars, I think it's probably about time to get everything moved back in for the night though. Almost time to get the bar opened up."

As if on cue, one of his employees yelled for him form the back porch and Evan gave an awkward grin, realizing he may have gotten a little too distracted by his task. "oops"

Laurence Anderson
>>feel free to wrap it up after your next post since we'll be at 5!

“I think you should keep this in the bar proper. Hang it up on the walls all proper and like,” Lars suggested, pressing the musty album with the newspaper clippings into his hands once he’d moved the box that he was carting off to one side.

“Really show them the place. Let them know about its history, before… before everything else around the city changed and became what it is today,” he continued, this serious glint in his eyes. “Everyone should know. At least, everyone who cares about the place should keep the Stray alive.”

He backtracked for a few moments, before the faintest hint of a smile crossed his lips.

“It’s no matter, really. You told the story with such passion, I could see everything in my mind’s eye very clearly. If ever anyone comes knocking here and tries to get the place out from under you, well… you have a lot of the regular crowd to back you up, myself included. And then you mentioned something about the place giving shelter to those who really need it, regardless of circumstance. I swear that would be really stupid of them to get rid of it if they did,” he ended with a low whisper as he looked around.

“Shall we get back to the bar? I have… I have a few hours free, and I can help you get some of these things moved into where you want them displayed,” he offered a few moments later.