"UGHH!" what sounded like an angst-riddled teenager who'd suddenly lost their spine due to some trivial calamity sounded from within the room at the Stock Pot Inn. ‘Might as well have been, Lyn figured. "Honey-- have you seen my scarf? The green and orange one? Like that one we got at the beach that one time, remember? I'm, like, so sure I packed it… I just know I did!"

Lynnette blinked at the bustling street below one last time before pushing herself away from the windowsill to help her mother search for her hideous green and orange scarf. "Why don't you just wear the blue one?" Lynnette sighed, beginning to search through her own suitcase of clothes in case her mother had absentmindedly packed it in there-- not an uncommon occurrence. 

"This is the one I wore last time! He said he liked it!" her mother insisted, stopping to cake on another layer of bright red lipstick in front of the mirror, but not before scrunching her cigarette with two bright red French fingernails into the already-nearly-full ash tray in front of her. Vanessa, or Venny, as most knew her, was a fairly plump woman, which exaggerated her hourglass shape, a trait she'd passed on to Lynnette, but without the unnecessary flab. She had shoulder length brown hair that was done up with enough hairspray to fill a small pond and wore more make-up than anyone her age should probably even own. Her mother's many unhealthy habits hadn't exactly kept her looking very youthful either, but the younger guys only ever tended to go after her the day after payday anyway-- which was also the day before she either spent it all or gambled it away. 

Lynnette pursed her lips in frustration, biting back a comment she would likely regret whilst she continued searching. As usual, her mother's newest catch was more of a sickly, leeching bottom-feeder, but trying to get her to “throw it back" was about as likely to happen as getting her to give up on finding that terrible orange and green scarf… or, at the least, stop thinking about her dingy date and more seriously consider that which was scheduled to go down that very afternoon.

[i]"Lyn, dear, you know I could care less about politics,"[/i] was all she had said when Lyn told her the news about the Prince of Ikana visiting Clock Town. Was she suffering from senility and actually forgot or did she honestly not care about possibly seeing her family again after 25 years? 

Three sharp knocks at the door saved her from the impending argument that was sure to happen if she stayed and watched her mom fret about like a prissy school girl any longer. "Let's get goin', sweetheart!" a man's voice called from the other side of the door. Shouldering her satchel under her cloak, Lynnette tossed the scarf her mother had been searching for on the vanity in front of her. 

"It was hiding in that striped shirt of yours," she said simply, making her way to the door. 
“Lyn! Come o- oh!” Lyn opened the door. “Well, hello there, sweethea-“
“Let’s go already,” she groaned, rolling her eyes as she brushed past him. 

Marcus Bonner, a 27 year old man who was only considerably skilled at three things, in Lynnette’s opinion—sword swallowing, fire magic, and getting on her every last nerve almost every minute of every day, despite his muscular physique, “dashing” good looks, and mysterious ability to wink almost every five seconds without fail when talking to whomever he deems an “attractive lady-friend”. She secretly wished he would break his so-called “celebrity code” and date one of his many drooling fan girls for once-- if only so they could finally discover what an unbelievable dick the man was and spread the news. She’d long since given up on demanding that he not call her sweetheart or “Lynny” and, despite her complaints, Fyer still insists he be the one to escort her everywhere. 

Once outside the Inn, Lynnette pulled her hood up and they merged as discreetly as they could into the crowd, making their way towards the much less crowded North Clock town. She hoped to make a full circle of the town in order to get a look at all of her favorite shops before the Prince’s speech that afternoon—she was in dire need of some new jewelry. 

Amidst the many performances and right beside the Stock Pot Inn was a small act meant mainly to advertise for the Black Marsh Circus— a painted wooden stand-up sign next to a shady, canopy of many dark colors and Ruck, the four-armed Goron, impressively juggling seven swords to beating drums and a trumpet while another member of the troupe stood in front of an abnormally large hat and collected tips. That was good, Lynnette thought. It meant that Fyer wasn’t around to—

“You two,” a gruff voice barked from behind them just as they passed the canopy, causing both Marcus and Lynnette to jump. [i]Oh, great....[/i]
“Pin up these flyers.” 

Lynnete felt a light slap on her shoulder as Fyer handed her a fat, rolled up stack of the things. 

“Oh, come [i]on[/i]—are you serious?” Lynnette droned.
“Yeah, Mr. F, can’t you get somebody else to do it?” Marcus argued. 

Fyer gave them both his usual dead-eyed look, “It’s either this or you two can go help shovel tiger shit and help pound in the tent stakes and nails at the park for tonight.” 

Lynnette wrinkled her nose and sighed, taking the flyers and pushing them into Marcus’ chest whilst turning on her heel in a huff.
“Whoa—hey—fine,” Marcus grumbled, barely managing to catch the things, “I’ll carry them, but [i]you’re[/i] hanging them up.”

“Whatever,” Lynnette breathed, taking off her cloak and stashing it in her bag, “Let’s get going.”