It's the fame, it's the drugs

[viced]

WHO: Mitchell Hundred and YOU!
WHERE: City Hall and its surrounding area
WHEN: The week of 6/18 to 6/23
WARNINGS: Mitchell.
SUMMARY: Open City Hall! Characters are welcome to enter and pester the Mayor about any number of things? Or just come to chat with him, or bug him if they already work there
FORMAT: Anything


City Hall, location: the City, was always a busy place. A hum and constant thrum of activity, whether it was late night, early morning, mid afternoon. Even well past midnight, it wasn't uncommon to find more than just the janitorial and maintenance staff on hand on any given night, and during the day the hallways could be found packed with lobbyists, councilmen and women, protesters, officials, imports, the City Hall staff. The bustle was almost constant, but certain people were easier to find than others, if someone was willing to either wait, or burst through a very aptly labeled door.

Which was generally left open, unless a closed-door meeting was happening, or if he was outside on business. Or more meetings. The Mayor went through a lot of meetings, as well as councils and round-tables. It was kind of a thing. Most days, however, he was practically chained to his desk. If he did get up, it was for only a few moments, but long enough to get caught if someone didn't quite know where to look to find the Mayor.

Comments

tuesday afternoon

[motherfucked]

So Jess was in the area, interviewing for the private detective team. After that… experience, she decided to poke around. This was where Mitch worked, right?

Not that she would have admitted to looking for him. At least, not to his face.

She wondered if she could find a water fountain, because as soon as she thought about it, she got thirsty. Yeah, that's right. She was looking for a water fountain.

[viced]

That was precisely where Mitch was heading, actually. Well, not quite to the drinking fountain, there was that vending machine that served shitty coffee, but shitty coffee was was still coffee, and it did the job as well as anything else.

And it was then that he happened on Jessica Jones, looking like she didn't know where she was. "You know, if you're looking for something in particular, I might be able to tell you where to go. Unless you're looking for the DMV."

[motherfucked]

"I found it, thank you very much." She could see the drinking fountain and turned abruptly in that direction. Not saying hi to Mitch.

6/21

[enigmaestro]

Since Monday, Edward's focus had been compromised. Like an offset door, unhinged and creaking, his mind was diffracted. Distracted. He ignored much of his work, assigning his usual (and typically embraced) duties to office minions. At his desk he sat, his desk armed with crosswords and self-composed riddles.

He kept thinking of two people. His father, and Eridan.

Edward missed his second meeting with Mitchell Hundred, and he made no attempt to excuse the lapse.

[viced]

One missed meeting was bad enough, but excusable. Shit happened, and Mitch had always prided himself on being at least somewhat accommodating. Two missed meetings made him worry, leaving him pacing on the best carpet a city budget could afford. Two missed meetings from his Deputy Mayor, especially in a city like the City was cause for worry, especially when things normally moved without a hitch.

So Mitchell found himself knocking on Edward's own office door, but not waiting to walk in. A courtesy knock. There weren't very many people who would have the audacity to just walk in without waiting for so much as a peep.

[enigmaestro]

"What -- oh. You didn't even wait for me to decline you," Eddie spoke dryly as he glanced over his newspaper, feet propped on hid riddle-strewn desk. His eyes followed Mitchell's movement.

"What is it, Mayor Hundred? I'm in the middle of a rather crucial meeting." He turned the page, as if to enunciate his apparent rush.

6/22; afternoon

[retconman]

Maxwell Lord strode confidently into City Hall, pausing at the doors only long enough to put out his cigar. He'd quit them for a while; getting back into the habit was one of the few perks he'd grabbed hold of in this place. In his other hand he held a briefcase.

He opened the office door, knocking on the door after it was ajar. He wasn't expected, but people always found a way to make time for him. "Mitchell, you busy?"

[viced]

Looking up at the soft creak, and then the somewhat familiar voice, Mitchell's mouth twitched slightly, before he slid back in his chair, affixing his politician's smile, eyebrows lifting in the same moment.

"Mr. Lord, right? Welcome to City Hall," standard greeting, of course, he leaned a bit across his desk to outstretch a hand. "It's a pleasure."

[retconman]

Smiling, Max let himself right in, walking right up to Mitch and shaking his hand. "Of course it is. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time," he said, quickly enough to not allow Mitch a word in edgewise.

"I thought I'd follow up with you about that meal plan idea I suggested to you. Remember that? How much money do you think you'd need to get it off the ground?"

6/20 afternoon

[futureleader]

Sooner or later Quentin had to go to City Hall to file some papers. What kind of papers, that's none of your business dear readers. Purely procedural presumably, but unimportant. Whatever Quentin had to file, was just another excuse to bother Mitchell in the office.

Like the last time they'd met in person, Quentin had guised himself to the people around him. However, he didn't just use telepathical illusions by itself and instead resorted to such parlor tricks whenever wandering eyes lingered too long. He hid his appearance with the use of a maroon-red hoodie and shoved his injured hands inside the pockets.

Quentin took his time in finding Mitchell's office.

[viced]

Mitchell almost jumped at the sight of the young boy with the pink hair. Quentin Quire, the little fuckhead was quickly becoming the bane of Mitchell's existence. As much as young kids with psychic powers could be.

"Christ," he managed, already reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Quentin."

6/18

[solidorkable]

Apart from the very emotionally exhausting weekend, being back at City Hall was a step back into normalcy. After being emotionally drained, it was nice to being back in the swing of being harassed by protestors and the like. Yes, yes, imports are a drain on society, no we have no idea why we hate freedom, yes I'll let him know.

Sigh, back to normal.

[viced]

Mitch was noticing a very different atmosphere from his employees. It wasn't just Larsa, but the kid, who was normally very polite and jovial, seemed...well, down. Mitch wasn't exactly a genius when it came to other people, but being a politician meant he could at least read them, even if he didn't know what to do about it. He did, at least, know he could stop by and at least offer a few words.

"Hey, how's it going today?"

6/18 earlyish

[clement]

There was a reason aliens said take us to your leader in those terrible movies that played on late night three digit channels in the MAC, and that reason was that aliens often had no idea what was going on in Earth politics and needed a centre. City Hall, Walker decided, was a good start for this end, and the television appearance he'd seen of Mitchell Hundred made the man seem...kind.

He was here seeking advice on behalf of a friend, after all.

Walker knocked on the door, with a three fingered hand, waiting expectantly.

Hopefully.

[viced]

The knock interrupted Mitchell's current conversation over the phone with the sanitation commission, who had been asking why the mayor had focused on the energy commission instead of his. Which meant the guest at the door got a nice earful about how "--if the garbage stopped running for a day, they wouldn't be knee deep in shit!"

He disconnected the call, pinching the bridge of his nose before he finally released a breath, and hit the side of his wireless headset, and tossed it across his desk, listening to the tinny voice echoing in his head, telling him how much power was left in the headset, where the closest bluetooth point was.

"Come in."

the... 21st WHY NOT

[futurebatwoman]

[ City Hall was in fact always busy, and sometimes Max found all the noise and bustle distracting. Still, she was making some progress today on working with media coverage and trying to make a few contacts in there.

Or she had been until somehow (a somehow that had a lot to do with Nygma and her own bad life decisions on the network) she'd wound up on coffee runs. Again. Mitch was her last stop, and she stuck his coffee down on his desk and the coffee holder in the trash. ]

One extra large black coffee, and you know I could be doing real work right now.

[viced]

Thank you. [ Was the emphatic reply as the Mayor greedily took it upon himself to dive right into his cardboard cup of coffee, despite how hot it was. Some people had tough, already abused taste buds that had been scalded by coffee too many times to even notice it anymore. ]

So, now that the coffee run is over, why don't you give me an update?

6/23??? sometime

[parroted]

Pherson just went up and walked into City Hall, the polar bear and the penguins packed away in a safe place, and most of the rats. He had been surprised to see them, sent to find him in the case that -- Piper, wasn't it? -- disappeared. Evidently ported out, and now he had a whole troop of eager to please, mourning rats.

Despite working for Mitch, Pherson couldn't quite dislike a man that had been loved by those creatures so much. He had about three of them up his sleeve, along with the parrot, who stayed with him on his shoulder always.

Pherson had been lying low, catching up with ten years worth of news, developments, technology - but it was high time he reminded the mayor of his existence.

People kept stopping him (because he looked like a weird hobo), and Pherson would calmly explain that he was a protester and no - it was a seeing-eye parrot, and would leave before they could realize there was no such thing.

Eventually he wound up in Mitch's office, after speaking to every non-human creature in City Hall. Spiders and flies and lice.

He didn't tell them to do anything. Just watch. Watch the mayor. As a favor to him.

And then he knocked on Hundred's door.

[viced]

The week kept getting more and more stressful, from Edward's problems to still hearing things about using Norman Osborn, to the usual buzz of questions that any politician dealt with, it was starting to wear on him by Saturday. While the weekend was generally a bit more relaxed for the employees of City Hall, Mitch didn't look the part. He looked stressed, wired. The knock on his door shocked him out of the speech-writing "process", which generally consisted of a mess of expletives on a sheet of paper. He looked up, as his pencil skidded off the paper, the lead snapping.

Shit.

"Come in."

6/23; morning

[hulkacceptcash]

Saturday was Leonard's day off, but instead of reading the paper in his new apartment, or jogging around the new neighborhood, he was dressed to the nines and standing outside the mayor's door.

Mitchell Hundred was, perhaps, not the right person to take his concerns to, but Len didn't have the clout or the name recognition that would once have allowed him to get lunch with Homeland Security chiefs or walk into the Oval Office without having to introduce himself.

The mayor was in a better position to get things done than he was--it was just a matter of convincing him.

He poked his head into the room, knocking on the doorframe.

[viced]

Mitch looked up from the papers strewn on his desk, the stack barely touched, but he nudged it aside with the back of his hand, blinking only once at the well dressed guy with green hair showing up in his office.

It was the City, he repeated to himself. This is part of living in the City.

"Come on in, can I help you with something?"

6/21 because I can

[aggressiveapathy]

Part of what kept Mitch chained to the desk was the seemingly endless stream of paperwork that assaulted the mayor from all angles. April didn't know why it was still paperwork instead of all being PDF or otherwise electronic. The filing register or whatever the hell kept sending it up was just hipster that way, she guessed. Maybe it wasn't really government work without at least a little irony drenched into every action. So it was that she ended up bringing folders full of loose, lovely paperwork to the computer king at least once a day. Today she just plopped it in front of him with a sound thwack on the wooden desk.

"It like. Bred in the night."

[viced]

One of the reasons a lot of the work that came to Mitch wasn't digital was because the tech-savvy mayor knew, without a doubt, that the minute it was brought up, he would be in question of forging any of his documentation. He preferred to play it safe, make sure that he could do what he had to, without anyone thinking he was going to forge anything.

"April, is this the morning's work? This is it?" the smile that accompanied the words was somewhat sardonic, joking. "I'll be done with this by lunch."

saturday, the latest!!

[hexappeal]

The usual scenario: pop in during the very late (or very early) hours without a single head's up, without a knock or announcement before entering the room. You blink and she's just there, sitting on the corner of Mitch's desk or hanging around and touching things. Sometimes she'll be sitting nicely in one of the chairs meant for guests, legs crossed and hands folded neatly across her lap.

This is not one of those times.

She expects him to be in his office or on his way to it, so that is usually her location of choice (as she has chosen to vaguely respect his wishes not to just pop-in on him just anywhere). It isn't that much of a hassle, but somehow she's always thought that he'd make up excuses not to see her if she gives a call beforehand.

Zatanna paces back and forth while she waits. It's only been a few seconds, but it feels like she's been here forever already. Stupid Mitch. Any longer and she'll have to insult your choice in tie for no reason other than to be a jerk.

[viced]

It actually took Mitch about another six minutes to actually get to Zee. He'd gotten stopped by someone in public works, asking about how the new generators would affect their jobs, and he'd taken a good long couple of moments explaining that they wouldn't lose their jobs, but the poor guy still looked unconvinced.

Well, if he decided to go somewhere else, he'd feel really fucking stupid when they posted for his replacement.

He stepped into his office, the night wearing on by the second, and still he felt like he'd never truly get a handle on all the work he needed to.

Of course, stepping in, he stopped. "Zee! What are you doing here?" it was parts questioning, accusatory, and concerned. Honestly, if she'd just call first, he wouldn't be worried it was a crisis.