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Dite's Decadent Delights, Wednesday Afternoon

Clearly, it was time for a new display. While Karla's tropical theme was making her yearn for the beach, the weather was demanding something else.

'Warm' was her theme, and so Emma filled the displays with things to evoke the idea of heat and staying in bed.

'Dite's Decadent Delights was open, and the shop-girl was about, fussing over her displays.

[[ooc: some links NOT WORK SAFE]]

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If you know what you need.

She's there!

Peter had his hands in his pockets and a scarf wrapped around his neck. The sex shop was not exactly his destination here, thanks, but he was letting his eyes slide past the windows of the shops he passed by in idle boredom.

And was that a familiar head of blonde hair he spotted?

He threw the display a brief look (and had a momentary immature mental image about what you could do with that sort of thing) before heading inside. "Why am I not surprised you're working here?"

"Possibly because you work for the radio and ought to know such things already," Emma pointed out, utterly undisturbed. "Or people have been spreading wonderful rumors about my reputation again, which, you should also know from your furry minions."

"Ah, but I'm Mondays, not Wednesdays, and let's just say the squirrels don't really keep their notes in an archive, per se," Peter said, grinning.

And maybe nudging one of the displays to see if it would wobble.

"Who needs an archive when they'll tell you anything for a bottle of rum?" she asked. "You break that, you buy it, Wiggin. And I don't give free tutoring session in how to use the stock."

"Not even if I wobble my lip right?" Peter asked her. "I'm disappointed!"

"Please, I'm nowhere near that easy or that cheap a date," Emma sighed, rolling her eyes. "Nor am I one of the multitude of emapths running around, who would offer to 'heal your pain' or whatever nonsense platitude they're spouting this week."

"They do realise that's just leaving yourself wide open to innuendo, right?" Peter checked. "Because if you ask me, that sounds a lot like a pick-up line..."

He wasn't actually all that interested in the sexual component, but he was a Wiggin and enjoyed his dirty jokes, especially if they led to inspiration for making Topher cry.

"Darling, innuendo is a game. If you mention it, you aren't using it properly," she pointed out.

Please, if she was going to seduce a Wiggin, it wasn't going to be either of the boys.

"Hey, you're not offering to 'heal my pain'," Peter said, waggling his eyebrows. "Why should I waste all my best material on you?"

Emma just gave him a once over. "You aren't my type," she said dryly. ~~Which was a total and complete lie~~. "A little young, for one."

"I guess I'll have to go home and mope in my room and sob into my love poetry, then," Peter said, easily. "And if I ever really do that, by the way, you have license to shoot me."

"Even if you hadn't given me permission, I would have been compelled to put you out of my misery," Emma promised. "No one wants to put up with you doing that." Especially not since she'd be able to hear the moping. "I'm sure your taste in love poetry is atrocious, for starters."

"Hey, I have great taste," Peter objected. "I'll have you know." He leaned against the counter. "So how's life in the ol' boudoir?"

"This is only my second shift," she replied mildly. "I took it as a favor to Karla. So far, I'd say you were my only customer, except that you haven't purchased anything."

"I could buy something with naked women on the front," Peter offered. "I have a friend who loves that kind of thing."

You know, Topher. Who ran off weeping whenever Peter used the word 'naked'. He had no trouble thinking about that fact either, so have a funny, Emma.

"You are a terrible person, and I approve," Emma replied, already moving towards the area where she'd discovered a stash of porn of questionable quality. "Would bodice ripping be traumatizing enough?"

"How small are these bodices?" Peter asked, glancing towards the stash in question.

Emma flipped one over so Peter could see the promo image on the back. "Very nicely made bodices?" she offered.

"You have to wonder where they leave their lungs," Peter said, tilting his head in scrutiny. "But only casually."

"Same place as their ribs, I'd imagine," Emma replied. "Having worn corsets, I can attest that they are deeply uncomfortable if they don't fit right."

Thank you for that fashion lesson, Jareth.

"Hey, who am I to judge if you want to suffer for your fashion?" Peter said. "But those do look appropriately boobsy. You've got your first purchase in the bag for sure."

"Peter Wiggin, Porn Fairy. That's what they'll write in your yearbook," Emma teased. "You know, you ought to ask Sookie for some of her naughty books. We've all passed those around a few times."

"I don't think he's even capable of reading the word porn, so I don't think he's going to run off blabbing about it," said Peter. Which, honestly, was one of many reasons why it was so easy - and fun - to fuck with Topher. "Ah, there's traveling porn now? I miss out on so much."

"You miss out because you're tiny, and people keep giving me lectures about not corrupting the children," Emma pointed out.

Topher, Topher...a quick scan of campus minds gave her what she was looking for, and Emma adopted a thoughtful posture. "You know, you could just hide some books around his room. Or re-cover them so they look like new technical magazines."

"I'm not a child," Peter said. He kept his voice light, mostly because he figured sounding petulant would hurt his cause. "So you're in the clear there. And I was planning to go for the hiding option - it's like the gift that keeps on giving that way."

"Well, obviously you aren't a child," she said, rolling her eyes. "And I've encountered you once when you were older than you are not - and that is an incredibly migraine-inducing thing to say aloud - but the point being you are at this moment younger than me, and I'm notoriously bad at being an ethical and/or moral person and should not be trusted with the easily impressionable. Or so I've been informed."

Peter actually laughed. "The history of the human race is one big long tale of indoctrinating the easily impressionable with whatever is moral at the time, only to condemn it fifty years in when fashion changes," he said. "Maybe you're just ahead of your time."

"Of course I'm head of my time. At home, it's only 2001 or so," she quipped. "Do you have any idea how much of a pain it's going to be when I start my freshman year at ESU, and none of my clothes are in style yet?"

Why am I listening to the DOMA hearings at work, when I know it will piss me off? *stabs people through the internets*

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Dite's Decadent Delights, Wednesday Afternoon

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OOC