fandomtownies | Empire Records; Monday [ 09/25 ]

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$groovy tunes

Empire Records; Monday [ 09/25 ]

Between taking care of random tasks and helping customers, Chad leaned on the slightly-creaking checkout counter thoughtfully, ruminating on recent events and dividing them up into neat, clearly distinctive categories.

Positive: Someone had asked him to homecoming. Negative: That someone was a drunk Japanese boy.

Positive: He had not been hit in the face with a bat yet. Negative: The day was still early.

Negative: Ranma still had his curse. Positive: Ranma still had his curse.

Positive: They'd talked about Mesoamerica in history class. Negative:....

Who was he kidding? There was no negative to that. And that is why the customers had to suffer an occational, random burst of "viva México!" followed by a round of mariachi music over the main speakers.

[[ empire's open ]]

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Sometime in the afternoon, there was a clinking noise and El Mariachi pushed open the door.

"//Celebrating the homeland?//"

Chad nodded, unable to keep at least a faint little smirk from the corner of his mouth. "Sí," he said. //"What can I help you with?"// Although he thought maybe El was just drawn in by the mariachi. Chad rather prefered to imagine so.

"//For the moment? Nothing.//" He leaned against the counter. "//But in a while I may ask you where you stock this music.//"

Ah, so it was the mariachi. The little Mexican flag in Chad's head was waving furiously again. //"No problem."//

In the meantime, Chad made himself look like a hardworking employee by shifting things on the counter a bit.

"//Are you a fan of mariachi music, Chad?//" El asked suddenly.

Chad grunted a bit; wasn't the blaring fanfares enough to answer the question? //"Yeah,"// he said. //"Takes me back home."//

His mind had switched back into thinking at that point, though, and his rather random and playful display of pride took a sour turn. it had been years since he'd been back home; he found himself blaming his Japanese father and his dead abuelo for that, sending him off to other parts of the world, where he didn't fit in and he was just lonely and awkward. Back in Mexico, he was 'Toro, the bull, not some lame pun for tea, and all he cared about was finding trouble, getting into it, and trying to make getting out of it as fun as discovering it. As for the mariachi, well...it was his first real encounter with music. A young man in a wandering mariachi band that was staying at their home for a bit always let Chad pluck on the strings of his guitar, although the little three year old, strong even then, constantly broke his strings. He was young then, didn't remember much. But he remembered that the man always laughed, and that in itself was music.

Chad grunted again.

"//Well then, I'm sure you know how to play it.//"

"Uhhh..." Chad scractched his head a bit. //"I can play it like I can play anything else, just following along..."//

"//Improvisation? Writing your own songs? How about an old-style bass guitar?//"

//"I improve a lot; don't really write anything. Mostly just pluck what I've heard."//

He was starting to wonder why so many questions. If he had his guitar with him, it would make sense, but, since he didn't, he just sort of wondered what the point of the conversation was. Maybe there wasn't. Maybe it was just idle talk.

El nodded. "//Well, it's good to see the old traditions are still alive somewhere. I sometimes think mariachi is all but dead in Mexico. If you ever want to talk or learn more mariachi ways of guitar playing, don't be afraid to ask,//" he said as he stood up and walked towards where the Marachi muisc was.

Chad grunted a laugh and shook his head. So that's what it was. A rather elaborate ad for guitar lessons.

Too bad Chad had to admit that it actually sounded like a pretty sweet idea.

El came back with a few CDs. A couple were soundtracks from movies involving a singer/gunfighter. "//I'll take these.//"

Chad nodded, humming a slight sound of approval as he rang up the purchases and rumbled the total. In Spanish.

El pulled out some money and payed for it. "//Thank you. I'll see you around, Chad.//"

Chad gave him a wave-less wave with one hand while the other tucked the money into the cash register. "Adios, man," he drawled, and closed the drawer with his hip.

Teddy entered the shop and looked around. Why were there tiny dinosaurs scattered about?

He shook his head, dinosaurs were not what he came here for.

"Chad!"

Chad straightened from his leaning on the counter to look toward Teddy. Yes, impulsively checking for bats. But, at least, if Teddy was going to attack him in the store, he could concievably fight back to save the Empire. So that wasn't so bad.

Teddy waved his hands, letting Chad know that he wasn't carrying a bat today.

"I need to talk to you about last night."

Chad sighed, and started to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He grunted; he thought maybe he'd rather have the bat.

Teddy narrowed his eyes at Chad. Oh, hell no. He was not going to get attitude after spending all that time calming Ranma down.

"I want you to tell me what happened," Teddy said in a tone that that was more an order then a request.

Chad gave a sutble glance around the store, to see if maybe he could use the fact that he was at work as an excuse to talk about this later, but the place was dead right now. Damn. He ran a hand through his hair, drew in a deep breath. Obviously, Teddy knew something had happened, but how much did he know?

"Ranma was upset last night about the trip, so I offered to take him out for a few drinks. For a guy his size, though, he sure can't hold his liquor, and he passed out, and I took him back to the dorms."

Chad blinked. Teddy didn't think that he... "And that's all," he added conclusively.

Teddy didn't move, he tried to stare Chad down, but it was difficult with all that hair in front of his eyes.

"Nothing else?" Teddy raised an eyebrow.

Chad scratched at his head. "Ranma said some things, but you know. People say weird shit when they're drunk."

"Weird shit?" Teddy asked, voice flat and emotionless.

"Yeah." Weird shit that Chad knew better than to repeat without specific knowledge that Ranma would be okay with him repeating it. Which Chad highly doubted he would be.

Not sure if Chad wasn't saying because he was too embarrassed about it or if he was trying to protect Ranma, Teddy let it drop for now.

"Well, I just came by to ask you to not bring up any of the 'weird shit' from last night for a couple of days." Teddy began to tap on the counter, sorely missing his bat.

"Ranma's having..." He paused, thinking of the best way to put it. "...a shit-storm of issues crop up right now and I think it would be best to leave what was said last night alone until he brings it up."

"Fair enough," Chad said, because, for all that he'd been thinking today, it clicked in his head just then that, even if he did go talk to Ranma about it, he didn't even know what he would say.

Teddy nodded. "Thank you."

He turned to leave but stopped and looked back at Chad, "And don't let him drink so much next time. He doesn't seem to do hangovers very well."

Chad grunted. How the hell was he supposed to know Ranma took his alcohol like a ten year old girl?

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Empire Records; Monday [ 09/25 ]

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