::1.2:: Bonne Chance

Staci and Shari make good roommates. They keep each other company, but don't get in each other's way.

Conversation is pleasant. Neither are very interested in talking about the past, for whatever reason—only their current circumstances.

They agree that getting a second floor on the house is a top priority.

Despite cramped quarters, there's very little stepping on toes... even as they both develop hobbies that make the lack of space very obvious.

While Staci derives enjoyment from honing her magic, Shari picks up a guitar at Thriftbrook, the town's perhaps too-aptly-named secondhand shop.

Her career pursuits in architecture are fairly practical, and she enjoys it well enough—but her personal goals are found between score sheets and steel strings. She has no desire to make a career of it; knowing her own talent, and maybe making some friends along the way, is enough for her.

She stares pensively at her fingers, a melancholy tune stirring whatever tragic backstory has been artificially implanted into her memories.

Privately, they both wonder how on earth their housing situation is working out so well.

Shari finishes enough pieces to call her collection of work a portfolio. Though it's all theoretical, it's received positively by the existing architect's network. She gets her first call for a job! A real, on-site one!

On the day of, Staci stops her on her way out the door. "I've been working on something—just a simple charm, really. It'll give you good luck—not that you need it, but..."

Shari is a brave sim, but that doesn't mean she's immune to nerves. This job could make or break her newborn career. She grins. "I'll take whatever you've got."

Staci giggles anxiously. "I mean, if it works..."

Luckily (heh), the spell goes off without a hitch.

And so does Shari's first-ever house redesign.

Clark Peddler and Penny Pincher's reputations precede them, even for a newcomer to town, and don't exactly bode well for being paid fairly for labor. But if it gives her something to add to her portfolio, Shari won't complain.

Clark is especially fond of the bedsheets chosen in the final redesign. They kind of match his suit jacket! Shari walks away with a glowing review.

On the walk home, she finds a macaw chilling in the grass. 

Despite her complete lack of animal handling experience, he climbs onto her arm easily.

"This must be the part where the good luck kicks in," she marvels.

The housemates put out some posters and an online ad, but no one steps forward to claim the exotic bird. After some waiting, they set him up on the balcony and name him Bonne Chance.

Staci's job is also going... fine.

Becky Baker has been trying to teach her the ropes of "gazing into a sim's soul," but apparently Staci is not a very good liar. 

Still, it seems Becky's investment is paying off—word travels fast, and townsfolk are intrigued, if not still a bit wary, that there is purportly-real magic involved with the new fortune-telling business. Tacit approval from "one of their own" (even if it's Becky Baker) tips the scale of public opinion more toward intrigue.

If they manage to build a good customer base, everyone's getting a pay raise, Becky claims.

They aren't exactly rolling in simoleons, but the worst of the financial insecurity has been alleviated. The ladies find themselves with a free weekend and some spare change, and a summer festival that's about to leave town.

I never have good establishing shots of the festival grounds...

Staci still gets the sense that Twinbrook isn't fully comfortable with her presence.

Or maybe she's just taking too long at the snow cone machine...

Whether Shari recognizes her unease or not, Staci finds her company reassuring.

And there is fun to be had, and welcoming faces to be found.

"How are you so good at this?" Shari exclaims, wobbling and buckling on the roller rink. "You've done this before?"

Staci laughs. "Beginner's luck!"

"More like beginner's good luck charm."

Just when she starts to get her bearings, someone swoops in, takes Shari by the hands, and spins her out to the center of the rink.

"Easy there," the man says. "Lemme give you some pointers."

"No thanks!" Shari exclaims. But the man holds fast.

For a split second, Staci is frozen at the edge of the rink. A million ways to step in and help fly through her mind—but she can't get herself to move. Even the rising red of indignation she can see on Shari's face isn't enough to unglue her feet from their place.

But she has her wand with her (always), and a split second later it's in her hand. Keeping it low at her side, she mumbles a cantrip she's known since she was a child.

Simple, but effective—though Staci does grimace when the small gust of invisible energy pushes Shari to the ground, as well.

Shari, just as confused as her unsolicited rink partner (currently busy groaning in pain) doesn't hesitate, and takes the opportunity to log roll to the exit.

Goodwin Goode takes the opportunity of all the freed space to absolutely tear up the rink, putting everyone else at the summer festival to shame.

Back on her feet and freed from her skates, Shari finds Staci a few feet away from the rink, twisting her wand anxiously in her hands. "Wait, was that you?"

"I'm sorry, I should've done something more—"

"Don't even think about finishing that apology." Shari's already smiling, eyes sparkling in the low-hanging summer sun, the unpleasant encounter fading from her hands. "Thank you. And... that was hilarious. Exactly what that weirdo deserved."

Staci's heart is beating too fast to reply—adrenaline and magic and something else—but soon both of them are giggling uncontrollably.

As a token of thanks, Shari presents Staci with the wildflowers she picked earlier, unnecessarily wrapped in a gift box.

//

I don't know anything about how freelance architecture works in real life. 

I also don't know anything about the French language, but Google tells me "Bonne chance" means "good luck." I can't remember what I actually named the bird in-game.