It's Raining Blood (Not Really) - Blood Drive (Job)

» Shortly after his time spent in Rose Garden in order to acquire his Passport, rest and namely save face for some embarrassment. He found himself out the next morning, the air was crisp and things seemed livelier than usual. Minding ‘lively’ to him was a few spotty people in rural areas, this was normal for morning and day-time. Shoulder to shoulder that is.
Uncomfortable was an understatement, more-so when someone took ahold of his wrist and tugged him gently off to the side. “Excuse me, you have the mark of Infinity Hydra- I don’t suppose you’re willing to lend some of your time? We are hosting a Blood-Drive and require some volunteers to man stations.” Call it a nice change of pace, but it was an older gentleman. Not that it really changed much, just a side mental thought of Copy’s. He’s noticed a frequency of more youngish folk approaching him- He figured it was due to his youngish appearances and feminine flairs.
“Uh—“ Copy paused, considering his already exceptionally long absence from Infinity Hydra’s guild-house. It’s not that they aren’t aware of his activities, they’re reported and kept those who need to know, needing to know. But there’s a sense of some obligation to at-least show face once in a blue moon. It drew the conclusion of a brief and simple exhale. “Sure. Lead the way.”

And so he was lead to a fairly public building, aside from the bustling people that cycled in and out of the building. It was large, glamorous and was showy enough to even draw an interesting stare from Copy. “This way! Copy, go through that door. They’ll give you a coat and instruct you with your task of the day. Thanks again!”
He had already given his name, some proof of who he was and went through the ringer of questions. Before he knew it, the light of the winter day was replaced with the luminescence of high-end interior lighting. “Greetings! And thank you for your kindness of time. Please put on this coat and head over to the kitchenary. You’ll be serving food among the patrons. You already half look the part! Haha!” The worker shoved a coat of color in his hands. Nudged him along and left him to wonder the rest.
“He wasn’t wrong I guess.” Copy commented in his head, he was wearing something of an older style suit. Minus the scarf and winter-duster. He had momentarily taken the time to slip on the volunteer coat and wandered through the masses with the goal of getting to the serving tables.
Easy enough, people seemed to be complacent to the sights of people and workers. Another oddity to himself, no less. He was handed the platters of food, drinks and treats to wander the halls, benches, seats and larger seating areas for foods.

So the mission of simplicity embarked. He had never minded helping out for work such as this, it was grounding which was always necessary for those who lived lives of excitement. Like himself, wielding a sword was like breathing; casting magic was like listening to gentle music. So strolling like a shadow of necessity was sometimes a comforting lapse of time. Greeting those with kind smiles, gentle welcomes and words of thanks for donating blood. It left him flushed with a humbled feeling in his heart. And while the moment of joy lived in his heart for a few hours of volunteering. All things must come to an end, otherwise they won’t forever be special.

“Thanks!” The man that originally conscripted him waved cheerily.
He had a paper in hand of official recognition for his work today. Proof that it was no dream.

[WC = 617]