The Causeway to Mallard Lane and Back, Laaaaaaaaaaaaate Wednesday Night

In the upstairs flat at 35 Mallard Way, the only inhabitant was sleeping the deep and unshakable sleep of the well-fed and satisfied with life -- but this isn't about her. It's about them:

How the decades old delivery van managed to make it across the causeway to the wee parking area was not nearly as interesting a question as would the poor engine start again once its death rattle was ended? It was probably due to the answer to this last question that the driver simply set the noisy claptrap of a van to idle (there would likely be complaints in the morning) and proceeded to unfold himself from the cab.

( Right! 'Ere we are! )

Then the van somehow shifted out of idle and set off coughing and spitting down the causeway, as the pair drove away from Fandom leaving behind a small amount of dust and debris and a ( bright and shiny new sign for the flower shop: )

[OOC: Eeeeestablishy-though-open-for-OOC, and the entire scene courtesy heromaniac, bad'uns included.]