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Strokes of Genius [Thursday 10/7]

Cally had meant to spend her time behind the counter today catching up on her online World History class. She'd started there, she truly had.

How researching the spread of Nordic culture via the Vikings turned into obsessively playing and replaying the teamwork test example for the Swedish Armed Forces recruitment program, however, was something she couldn't quite explain.

Especially when she was busy shaking her fist at the player from Taipei for dropping out before the two-minute mark again.

[OOC: Open and addicted. Sigh.]

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While she scowls at her datapad screen.

"I need paint," Kūkaku declared as she stepped into the store. "Lots of paint. Red paint. You got that here, right?"

"We do, yes." Cally looked up... and immediately lost the puzzle she'd been working on. Somewhere, three strangers were shaking their fists at her now. "What sort of paint? Oil? Water colours?"

"Don't know," Kūkaku admitted with a shrug. "Don't usually work in paints. What's gonna be the hardest to clean off of clothes?"

"The hardest?" Cally blinked at the woman, certain she'd heard it correctly but not certain she'd understood it. "Oil? Or... no, spray paints, I suppose. But why would you want something difficult to clean off?"

"Top secret," Kūkaku said with a smirk. "Can't tell you. If I told you, I'd have to kill you. Spray paint's not gonna work...."

Pause.

"Or maybe it would...." She frowned, thinking. Those cans, after all, were highly explodable....

"Top secret," Cally repeated slowly, noting both the smirk and the fact that the customer only had one arm to attempt killing her with, and deciding it might be safe to raise an eyebrow, at least. "I can't give you much advice on which would be the best to use if I don't know what you wish to do with it."

Oh, but you'd be surprised at what carnage one could do with only one arm.

Just look at the drummer from Def Leppard.

"Good point," Kūkaku allowed, looking thoughtful before waving her hand and declaring, "Give me a little bit of everything, then. I'm sure I'll find a use for it somehow."

And have a lot of fun in the meantime.

Well, that was one way to deal with it, though not, sadly, the way that would have satisfied Cally's curiosity. Well played, ma'am, well-played.

"I'd be a poor employee if I attempted to argue you out of that one, I suppose," Cally allowed with a smile. She ducked out from behind the counter and stepped towards the painting supplies. "Will you be needing brushes as well?"

To that suggestion, Kūkaku could only snort.

"Hell no," she said. "Brushes are for actually painting, ain't they?"

Cally looked over her shoulder at her, hand poised to reach for a bottle of red modeling enamel. "Yes? So is paint, generally..."

"Generally, sure," said Kūkaku grinning proudly. "But I don't do general."

Right. Riiiiight. That grin was either disturbing or contagious; Cally couldn't decide which. Perhaps both.

"Am I likely to be arrested as an accessory to anything for selling you this paint?" she had to ask. The question didn't stop her from moving on to the spray paint aisle.

"I hope not!" said Kūkaku. "It would suck if I broke my free record over fucking paint."

That was certainly reassuring.

"I doubt either of us will be arrested if that's what you intend to do with it." Not perfectly deadpan, but close, and she could hide anything that looked like it might break into a laugh by turning her back as she reached for a basket to dump the paint into.

"...that was terrible," Kūkaku informed her, because it seriously was.

"It was, rather," Cally agreed with no hesitation. "But hopefully not terrible enough to be worth killing me." She added several tubes of watercolour to the basket: crimson, carmine, and rose.

"Not even terrible enough to earn you a smack upside the head," Kūkaku offered, which was actually quite a compliment. "Yet. Keep it up, that might have to change, though."

"So noted." Cally... felt vaguely guilty for the next thing out of her mouth, certain as she was that something nefarious was being planned with the purchases, but there they were, hanging directly in front of her. "Did you want paint pens, as well? Or is this the sort of top secret where you don't want to leave anything so clear as a written message?"

"Paint pens?" asked Kūkaku. "I take it that's pens, but with paint instead of ink?"

Cally nodded. "Easier to control than a brush -- but then, you didn't want brushes."

"Yeah," said Kūkaku, shaking her head. "Those won't be any good, either."

Except maybe as projectiles, but even she wasn't that cruel.

"Just the messy stuff. And the stuff that blows up pretty well."

...Right.

"Right." It occurred to Cally that perhaps the less she knew, the better off she was. "Will these do, then?" she asked, offering the paint-laden basket.

"Perfect!" said Kūkaku, nodding approvingly. "Thanks, kid. You've been a real help."

"I'm glad. ...I think. And my name is Cally."

"Kūkaku Shiba," she offered back, slapping a wad of cash on the counter to pay for the paints. "Trust me, you'll remember it."

"It seems likely." Cally wondered if that was a good thing or not, of course.

The Life Drawing books are on sale. Possibly useful for those too bashful to just head over and buy their naked pictures at 'Dite's.

Stupid game. Stupid stupid game.

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Strokes of Genius [Thursday 10/7]

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