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Demon Marcus, Sunday

Sparkle had slogged his way in to work in the rain, today, thankful that his boots went high enough up his leg to keep the slush off of his feet. He hadn't actually invested in proper winter clothing yet. He figured there wasn't much of a point, so long as Fandom didn't have something that he considered a proper winter. But it did get him to thinking about how many of the people at the picnic yesterday seemed a little oddly dressed for the occasion, and it got him putting out a sign in order to maybe attract some new customers.

New to the Island?
From 25-50% off most clothing in-store for newbies.

The fifty, of course, was reserved for any poor schmucks from a different world or time or place, who didn't even have weather-appropriate clothes to begin with. Not that he'd say so. Sparkle worked in mysterious ways, and the sooner people just learned to run with it, the better.

[Open, and OCD-free, as usual!]

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Eleanor had set aside today for exploring her new home; this island was decently sized, but it was a relief after years of being cooped in one small room. And while the wind was still sharp, the sky above was entrancing enough that she didn't quite mind.

She was a little put off by the name of this particular store front -- demons didn't sound so inviting -- but it looked full of clothing, and the sign in the window was promising.

And so, in the same white shift, diving boots, and borrowed leather jacket that she'd been wearing yesterday, she made her way inside.

Well, damn. This one was definitely new. Sparkle actually wondered for a moment just how she got herself here without freezing her tits off, leather jacket or no.

"Hey," he said, from where he was sitting at the counter, idly painting his nails in rainbow colours. "A new face. Can I help you?"

The jacket helped. So did not being a typical human, exactly. That didn't make her any less uncomfortable, unfortunately.

"I hope so," Eleanor said uncertainly. "Do you take Rapture dollars?"

She doubted he would. In which case, she was quickly going to discover what $5 American could buy.

"... I'm gonna say no, on account of how I've never heard of them before," Sparkle replied, blinking. "There's a bank in town that should be able to exchange that to American, though. We get all types here, so, you know, it deals with all sorts of currency."

Rapture? The end times came with their own currency, now?

"You, uh, want someone to show you where it is?"

A bank. Had she seen one, yet on her journey? She couldn't say that she had.

"I'd hate to be a bother," she said, before grimacing. The cold was going to make the walk a bit less pleasant.

"I don't suppose you know where it is?"

"I could give you directions," Sparkle replied, shrugging. "Even draw you a little map. But really, my break's coming up anyhow, and I would do damn near anything for a coffee. We can stop at The Perk while we're out."

He didn't care if it was out of the way, dammit. Coffee.

It was more fun exploring with company. The Perk had smelled delightful, and the zing that the coffee gave her made her add it to her list of useful stimulants. The cup warmed her fingers as she spoke to the bank, filled with employees who were only too happy to exchange her cash for something more current.

She wasn't sure how or where they intended to spend Rapture dollars, but that was their difficulty, not hers.

It was a good half-hour later that they returned to the oddly-titled clothing store.

"Thank you," Eleanor said, warmly, and not just because he'd insisted on buying her coffee. "Shall we begin again? I have American money this time."

(modded with permission woo!)

Edited 2014-01-06 02:31 (UTC)

"Go right ahead, then," Sparkle replied, smirking faintly. He wasn't a big sucker for a person who obviously needed a hand, damn it, and to hell with anyone who thought so. He'd just, you know, needed the exercise. And the coffee.

... Okay, he was a bit of a sucker.

"Were you in the market for anything in particular? We've got, like, everything. Almost literally."

"Everything is what I need," Eleanor replied. "This you see before you is the extent of my wardrobe, except that the jacket isn't even mine."

She didn't imagine the diving suit counted.

Oh. Oh, girl. Break Sparkle's heart, why don't you?

"Seriously?" He hissed a little between his teeth as he took in the sight of her. "Okay, so you're gonna need, like, shirts, pants, underwear top and bottom, some real winter boots because we have a few months left of this, a coat, scarf, toque," shut up, he was Canadian, "gloves..."

Oh god, that added up.

"... How much is in your clothes budget today?"

That sounded like a lot. All right. Maybe she could go light on the cold weather items; it wasn't as though she would freeze.

She pulled the wad of bills the bank had given her out, and began counting.

"I have ... just over five hundred and twenty-three dollars," she said, "and two British pounds I forgot to exchange. I don't know how much I should budget for clothes. I'm not sure what else I need."

The school had a cafeteria, so food wouldn't be a problem. That was a relief. She probably couldn't starve to death, either, but it would be rather unpleasant to find out.

"Well..." Sparkle was afraid to ask. He was certain he wasn't going to like the answer. "... What else do you have?"

He really wasn't.

Eleanor bit her lip. "Not counting this?" she asked, gesturing to her outfit. "The rest of a diving suit, and ... a plush doll."

Plus a crayon drawing the Little Sisters had made for her. She had tacked it to her wall. She didn't expect that would have any monetary value, and she wouldn't sell it even if it did.

Edited 2014-01-06 05:02 (UTC)

"And I'm gonna guess you don't know what anything's worth in the modern American dollar."

Sparkle could kind of see the trainwreck as it unfolded, here. He chewed the inside of his cheek, and then nodded, reaching for a pen and running a length of blank recepit paper out of the till.

"Okay, so, do you know what classes you're in this semester? Let's figure out school supplies for you. And, you know, essentials. Toothbrushes and shampoo and crap."

"I found a class list this morning," she said. "I didn't exactly sign up for them. Self-Expression, Sexual Health, and Coping with Change, I don't know what I'll need. There's one about a Motorcade, but I don't know what that word is, and one about Handling Powers ... that I must have been assigned to by mistake."

Yes. That was almost plausible, if not for how she flushed when she said it.

"I left in rather a hurry," she added, apologetically. "I don't mean to impose upon your time."

"Girl, I'm sitting around painting my nails," Sparkle replied, shrugging. "My time's not being put to great use. So... sounds like you're in some of the more normal stuff around here. We'll get you a notebook and a pack of pens, and that should be plenty for school supplies."

He made a note on the receipt, deciding to just leave the 'powers' thing at rest. She wasn't even the first one this semester to pretend she didn't belong in it to him.

"You're going to want shampoo, conditioner, a brush. Soap. Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant..." His pen was scratching like mad against the paper, now. "Girl supplies." A beat. "Pads or tampons? We'll get you both, in case."

Sparkle had had sisters, once. He could talk about that sort of thing without freaking out. He just preferred not to.

"Should get you through most of the bathroom stuff you'll need. I can walk you through shopping for it all. Bet we can get all of it for under twenty bucks-- you'll want to set that aside now."

"I should probably set aside more, for whichever supplies will need to be refilled," she said. "Someone here said they had a job, but I don't know where to go to find one."

All right, if twenty dollars would get her the very basics of bathroom supplies, that boded well for her shopping day. She could breathe a bit easier.

"What sort of clothes are the least expensive?" she asked. "I'm less concerned with appearance than hoping something fits properly."

The fashionable people of Rapture had looked so elegant, but elegance was probably quite expensive, and she had to make this money last.

"Jobs are easy to find," Sparkle promised. "You just wander around town and sooner or later there'll be some business with a 'help wanted' sign in their window. Or, like, people will just throw the friggin' job at you."

Which had happened to Sparkle twice now. Which still baffled him.

"Okay, so, let's see how many clothes we can get you for under two hundred, then. Leaves you with emergency money, just to be on the safe side. I can tack my employee discount on overtop the sale price - I don't even know who the fuck I work for anymore, it's not like I'll get in shit for it - and we can probably pull this off. You'll want something warm, since it's winter. Presumably by spring, you'll be working, yeah?"

He was writing down a list of clothes that she was going to need, now, too. After a moment, he raised an eyebrow and glanced up at her.

"You know your cup size?" He mimed a pair of breasts, just to be clear. "I'm not being creepy, I swear, but you'll want some bras. Especially if you're in a class that requires some moving about."

Trust him. He'd had tits for a weekend or two. He knew the drill.

So, Eleanor ought to get a job. That would solve her monetary dilemma. What exactly was it she wanted to do? She could work as a shop-clerk. She would work just about anywhere, so long as genetic experiments weren't involved.

"I wouldn't like to get you in trouble," she frowned. "I can try to find a job as quickly as possible."

She glanced down at her chest, turning a sharper shade of red. "34B," she said. He didn't seem to be getting a prurient interest from it. That helped.

"We've got stuff in that size," Sparkle promised, grabbing his receipt paper and nodding toward the clothing racks in the store. "Here, grab a shopping basket, they're by the door, and we can fill it up with the easy stuff, first. Socks and underwear, that sort of thing. Hell, I think we have just packages of blank white t-shirts for cheap. That'll save you a few bucks, and if you buy big, you can wear 'em to bed."

Sparkle had so danced this dance before. A lot.

He was an expert on this subject, it seemed.

Eleanor fetched the basket, and caught up easily with Sparkle. "Do you get many students with only the clothes on their back?" she asked.

That was one possibility. The other ... but she hated to presume.

"You'd be a first," Sparkle replied with a shrug of his shoulders, poking through the socks for a multi-pack that was both warm and inexpensive. "But I'm old hat at shopping on a limited budget."

He tore open the package in his hand, pinching the fabric between his fingers, and then nodding and holding it out toward her.

"Five pairs. Men's socks - they're cheaper and thicker, which means warmer - but they're all grey. Want 'em?"

Something in the offhand way he said it made her think that he had, perhaps, been in her exact situation before; on your own, with whatever money you had scrounged up, relying on the help of strangers that you were nervous to trust at all.

"Absolutely," she said, taking the package. "I'm not fussy on color, and gray means I don't have to worry about clashing."

In fact, this would be a good moment to reach over and grab one of those packs of mens' t-shirts he'd mentioned. She was thin, but tall; she guessed "Large" would be sufficiently big for a replacement nightgown.

"How expensive are trousers?" she asked. "Call me unladylike, but I'd be willing to spend a great deal of my budget on a pair."

She'd been out in the snow in a thin dress. Propriety didn't enter into it.

"Hey, I'm the last person to go around calling people unladylike or whatever," Sparkle replied, nodding over to a stand with folded jeans on it. "Those run pretty cheap, and they're durable. You're looking at like fifteen to twenty for the really cheap ones, and even those'll hold together for a while."

He nodded down to the black pair he was wearing, holes in the knees and all.

"And if you wear 'em until they look like this, people'll just think you're making a fashion statement. Go on and try a few pairs- dressing room's right over there- and I'll see what bras I can find in your size. You'll have to judge how they fit yourself, though."

Sports bras might cut it, for that matter. Again, cheaper, until she could find a job and get something a little higher quality. It wasn't like she was hugely busty or anything, after all.

It seemed as though one could dress however one liked, around here, and it would seem deliberate. Hoops and corsets? From an older era. Tatty jeans and ripped shirts? Wanted to appear that way.

It made clothes-shopping far less stressful.

She headed into the dressing room, taking several pairs of the jeans and the pack of t-shirts. She would have to ask about warmer shirts, as well, but that could wait until she'd actually tried a few things on.

Oh, honey. Sparkle was so, so ahead of you. During the time she spent in the dressing room, he'd picked out not only a handful of bras in the size she'd told him, but also a small assortment of sweaters that had been on sale (the Christmas sweaters that leaned more towards wintry themes than reindeer, generally), grabbed a pair of thin gloves and a scarf, and had made his way over to see what the cheapest jackets were.

When it came to clothes shopping on a budget, he was a machine.

Eleanor emerged from the dressing room, at last, turning this way and that. It was a simple enough outfit -- a white oversized tee and some dark blue jeans -- but she felt more like a person than she had in days.

"My goodness, you've been busy," she laughed, eyeing the stack Sparkle had found. "I didn't even think of scarves."

"They'll be good to have around in case the island gets, like, a proper blizzard or something," Sparkle grinned, and then reached over and flipped the price tag on one to show it off. "And these ones are all on sale. You'll only really need one, I'll let you poke through the pile."

All right, it took some doing, but eventually Eleanor narrowed down the piles into a few things that she wanted: some trousers, a few sweaters, the helpful packs of shirts and socks, a warm pair of shoes, a coat, gloves, and a baby-blue scarf.

"How close are we to two hundred?" she asked, dubiously, surveying the pile of clothing around her.

Edited 2014-01-10 03:08 (UTC)

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Demon Marcus, Sunday

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