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Pixie Dust, Monday

It was Monday, and they were somewhere warm! And Tink zipped into her store to discover ... discover ...

that all of the undergarments were missing.

When Tink found whoever had been brainless enough to shoplift from her store, there would be Hell to Pay.

So there were two new signs in the window, one that said:

$500 SHOPPING SPREE FOR ANYONE WHO BRINGS INFORMATION ON THE SOON TO BE DEAD INDIVIDUALS WHO STOLE FROM TINK'S FABULOUS STORE
Body Parts From The Perpetrators Also Accepted

And an older one that she'd pulled out from under the counter:

ASSISTANCE WANTED
Employees Receive Employee Discount

Pixie Dust was open.

(OOC: A few very important notes for newbies! One is, Tink is a complete bitch, and will probably mock your character in a horribly crush fashion, because ... it's Tink. Two is, Pixie Dust is hiring, but she's weird and highly fussy, and only inclined to hire those who are very chic or very bitchy, preferably both. Three: if you ever need someone to talk your character into something he or she would not ordinarily wear, but would be fabulous on them, let me know, Tink can be helpful like that. And lastly: Tink can't talk, she'll just narrative at you, feel free to stare in confusion or interpret as much as you like.)

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I [ do / DO NOT ] wish to deal with the insane rage-filled pixie.

I [ DO / do not ] wish to deal with the insane rage-filled pixie.

Tink's sign caught Murdock's attention, so he headed in, thoughtfully chewing on a licorice stick. "Excuse me, ma'am. I couldn't help but notice your sign. I'd like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind."

Tink stared.

Yes? Did he need ... some ... help? With his clothes? Because that crazy woman was kidnapping mental patients again and he had no idea how utterly un-chic he was? It would be all right. Tink had Prada. Prada could help anything. Come in, before anyone else saw him like that.

Murdock took that as invitation to start his line of questioning. "Appreciate the cooperation, ma'am. Now, can you tell me if there's any reason for someone to take all of your shop's underwear? Is there anyone who may have a personal vendetta against you?"

Oh, yes! Lots of people! Let's see, there was .... hmmmm. Anybody ugly. Start with ugly people, who couldn't dress themselves.

The crazy woman who kept kidnapping people and making them live in her basement. She hated shoes, and Tink had lots of shoes.

Lots of people were jealous of Tink for being chic and beautiful and fabulous. It was hard being this pretty. At least she had her prettiness to console herself with. Because she was gorgeous, wasn't she?

Murdock popped the licorice out from his lips and eyed her for a moment. "That many, eh? Ever consider hiring yourself some muscle? Down right useful if you ever find yourself lost in the alley of deranged fruit bats. Nasty buggers them."

He pulled out a notebook and made a few scribbles. "Yes, ma'am. You're quite the looker if I do say so myself." Mac Murdock knew the tricks. If buttering up the ladies garnered more information, than that's what one did.

She was! She was beautiful. She worked at it, it wasn't easy, but it was worth it. Consider it a gift, to all the less fortunate! They had her to look at! Wasn't she generous?

She hadn't hired any muscles, no. Ooooh, that was a thought! Hire someone pretty to stand around and be a bouncer! Only the very chic people could come in! What a clever idea! She would look into that right away!

It was possible that Tink was not entirely following the conversation. Tiny brain and all.

"Other than missing undergarments, was there anything else remiss?" He resumed chewing of the licorice. "Who else has access to this establishment? Any of them feeling the sweaty ropes of discord?"

They were probably on different planets of conversing here.

No, her store was beautiful and excellent as always. Wasn't it a chic store? She nearly called it Tink's Fabulous Emporium of Utter Chicness, but Pixie Dust seemed more ... compact? It was very cute, and not cutesy. There was a fine line.

Sweaty ropes. Hmmm. None of her employees seemed to be into that sort of thing, but she'd let him know.

"Very cozy shop, ma'am. Thanks for the info. And do keep me posted, will ya?" He flipped closed his notebook and tucked it away into his jacket. He tipped his hat at her, "Nice day to you, ma'am."

He stopped at the doorway, peering down either side of the street before stepping out.

Yes! He should have a nice day! And come back, and tell her how pretty she was more! And buy things, so he could be all stylish and pretty, too! Good bye!

Toby finally managed to find the store Ron had told him about and looked around in awe of the clothing.

So many shirts. With sleeves, even.

Welcome! Welcome to Tink's Diva-tastic Emporium of Utter Fabulousness! She nearly called it that, wasn't that a very nice name? It was! She had such pretty clothes, and this island had such pretty people, it was a wonderful match. She loved her store so very much! Hello! He should come in! He was pretty, and he should buy pretty clothes!

"Oh! It's my cute little teacher!" Yeah, he had no clue other than she was happy and attempting to communicate.

"Dude, you've gotta help me find some clothes. The kids here don't seem cool with the shirtless look on days that aren't Fridays."

Oh! Oh, he called her cute. He was ever so charming and pretty and she was starting to like him very much. He had good taste!

But she was confused. The other students ... wanted him to put a shirt on?

But! But! Those abs! Those pecs! He was beautiful! Beautiful people should not wear shirts! What on earth was wrong with them!?

The look on her face helped him think she got his message. "It's like they don't even realize we're in a tropical paradise! There should be more suntanning and beach sex and less stupid fires."

She applauded that with no small amount of vigor. Yes! Yes! Warm weather meant naked pretty people and lots of promiscuous sex! Beaches! Sand! Sex! Fires? Where did fires come into it!? Except bonfires, out on the beach, that one could sneak away from to have promiscuous sex!

See? And here she thought teenagers were hopeless! So few of them understood!

"You want to burn the felt sex toys from class?" Toby asked, trying to understand her gestures, but feeling the clapping was positive.

"If I do, can I get a job?"

Burn things? There was a room in the back where she burned things! The really, really ugly clothes! She should show him! But first! Employee?! Yes! Yes, he should work here!

She pulled her wand out of her cleavage and began writing in the air, in big, swooping letters. 20%, it said, and then underneath she added Employee Discount.

He was very pretty, and he didn't seem to be following all that well; better to spell it out.

It was such a good thing he could read, because her little dance totally threw him. "Oh my god, thank you!" He'd be able to buy him and Kevin shirts now. "Is there a uniform or anything?"

No, no, of course not! There --

Wait! Yes, there was! His uniform was: no shirt. It would be hard, she knew, but he had to be completely shirtless while he worked, no matter what the weather was like. Could he handle that?

Somehow, Toby managed to understand that bit. "No shirt? Sounds easy enough." If he was smarter, he might have considered the irony in that stipulation.

It was! It was very easy. Easy happened to be one of Tink's favorite words.

Yay! She would pay him and he would walk around being shirtless and pretty! And he might have to deal with customers but customers were stupid and lame and he could ignore them mostly. She did.

When did he want to work? Here! He should come over here, to the cash register! That was where she kept the liquor and the issues of Vogue and the schedule!

He followed her more because she was moving than because he comprehended that she wanted him to go. "So like, can I work Saturdays? My boyfriend has that shift at the Gallery and this'll keep me from going all crazy without him." Or give him the opportunity to buy Kevin lunch and clothes on Saturdays.

Saturdays! That sounded perfect. See, she'd pull out the calendar and show him! Romeo had Tuesdays, and Isabel had Thursdays, and ... here! There was a spot for Saturday and he could put his name there! Because Tink didn't know it. She wasn't listening. She didn't bother remembering Romeo or Isabel's names, either. Huh. She had been sure Isabel was an Elisabeth, for some reason. Oh well! Here! A pen! He should write his name!

Which reminded her: she dug her wand out of her cleavage again and wrote, in glowing, swooping letters:

Tinker Bell.

And followed it with a bow. Wasn't it the best name ever? It was. It sang.

"Oooooh, I thought you were Mrs. Stinson." All those names were so hard to keep up with. "I'm Toby, your newest employee," he wrote his full name on the paper.

Toby! Wonderful! That was a very nice name. Well. It was a little pedestrian and middle-America for such a handsome shirtless young man like himself but that was okay! Not everyone could be called Tinker Bell. Because if they were, Tink would find them and kill them. It was her name, damn it.

No, no, she wasn't Mrs. Stinson. That would be --

That would be very weird. Now Tink's brain hurt.

(No wonder. She used it so rarely.)

"Hello?" Jenny called as she stepped into the store. "It's summer and I need miniskirts? Crazy pixie woman?"

Hello! Oh! It was her! The girl who liked booze and getting laid! One of the few students who had her priorities straight around here. Hello, hello, hello!

Tink had many miniskirts! Chic ones and trashy ones and sometimes a girl just wanted to show off some thigh. And some hip. And maybe wear a belt and pretend it's a skirt. Tink was a big fan of that.

Tink didn't seem to have any underwear today. Did the slutty girl know who stole Tink's underwear? Because that person must die.

No, Jenny didn't know who'd stolen Tink's underwear, but they'd stolen her underwear, too. Not that she, you know, usually wore it. It was the thought that counted. But when they found that person they would make them pay.

Now. Down to business. "Not trashy so much. My mother would come back from the dead and bitchslap me. But a belt masquerading as a skirt could be entertaining. 'No, I didn't forget my skirt, it's right here.'"

It was certainly an attention-getter. Everyone watched you sit down, and stand back up again. Some days, it was important to be a lady and cross your ankles, because otherwise you ended up doing that Sharon Stone scene in that one movie and that was never the sort of thing one should do by accident.

Yes! Belts-as-skirts! Some people liked to wear shirts as dresses, but that looked sloppy and not quite so chic. Over this way!

Jenny could be ladylike! She just...usually didn't try.

Dresses as shirts were almost as appalling as shirts as dresses. But tights as pants could work if you had the legs for it. Which Jenny did. She followed Tink obligingly.

The real secret to fashion was that anything could work if you carried it right, and if you accessorized it properly, and if you were drop-dead gorgeous to start. Tink knew all about that, really.

So! Skimpy little belt-miniskirts! Chic one-piece dresses that were actually dresses! Tights! Oh, Tink loved clothes. People looked so pretty in them, and most of them looked very nice coming off, too.

Jenny was especially fond of things that looked good coming off. "I'll take the lot."

All of it? Really?

Oh! Oh, Tink loved when people came into her store and bought lots and lots of pretty chic things. Especially pretty people who were going to use the clothing to have lots of promiscuous sex with other pretty people. Wasn't that the entire point of being a teenager!?

Come over here, so that Tink could ring her up! Hooray! Did she want some absinthe? Tink had a lot, back here, behind the counter.

"I would love some absinthe," Jenny said. "So, what do you do here? And what happens when someone wants to buy something hideous?"

Tink poured the slutty British girl a glass of absinthe. Well! Mostly she drank, and mocked how much the average person had absolutely no sense of style, and sometimes she just laughed herself silly. That happened in class, too!

Tink didn't let people buy hideous things. Anything that came in that was hideous went right back to the manufacturer. Even if it was designer. Especially if it was designer. Being John-Paul Gaultier did not give one a free pass to put rhinestones on spandex. Not that he had, as far as she knew. Ewwww, what a horrid thought that was.

And the things that were too hideous to sit around waiting to be sent back, those went over here! Follow her, follow her! This was the room in the back where she burned things! Tink got very, very drunk and set things here on fire. Burn! Burn! Burn! Oh, Tink loved her job. It was ever so wonderful, except when those customer-types came in!

Jenny blinked at her. "That sounds like the best job ever. Well. It doesn't sound like anything, of course. But. Yes. You get to set things on fire?"

Yes! Did the girl want to try? Here, there was kerosene and there were lighters and Tink had disabled her fire alarm because the last thing she needed was someone showing up her to bother her because hello, yes she did know that there was something on fire, she set it on fire.

Tink got so excited about fire that she tended to use run-on sentences. But! Yes! The sprinklers still worked so they might get wet but getting wet and watching ugly clothes burn, it was almost Zen.

Fire! Fire! Fire!

"I don't need a lighter, thanks." She snapped her fingers for an illustrative spark. Yay fire!

Oh! Oh! Oh, Tink liked this girl! There was magic lightning-fire and look! Those sequined legwarmers were just going up in flames!

Watching ugly things burn. Was there anything more fun? There really wasn't.

There really wasn't. "So," Jenny said. "You're hiring?"

Yes! She was! Oh! She hired someone earlier, a very pretty boy who wasn't very bright and she told him he had to work shirtless! And he said he would! Wasn't that the most wonderful thing ever!?

Did she want to work here? She was fabulous and bitchy and slutty and those were all things that warmed Tink's little black heart! And of course employees got the employee discount, which required Tink to dig out her wand and write in mid-air: 20%. Because happy employees were good employees and besides, Tink wasn't running this store for the money. And really, employees meant she didn't have to come open the store when she had a hangover and let's be honest: Tink usually had a hangover.

Work for Tink! Work for Tink!

Jenny usually had a hangover, too. Unless she was still drunk. "Can I work drunk?"

Tink stared at the girl.

Did people usually work sober?

How on earth did they manage that?!

"I have no idea," Jenny said. "They lead sad, boring little lives."

They must. The poor creatures!

In case of emergency - such as being at work while sober - there was always absinthe and tequila under this counter, and a few bottles stashed in the back room as well. Never, ever try to deal with customers sober. That sort of thing led to madness.

And really, they were too bitchy and chic to go mad.

I [ do / DO NOT ] wish for the world to end.

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Pixie Dust, Monday

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OOC