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Dite's Decadent Delights, Friday

Okay, so Sparkle didn't have any, like, big plans for the dance today or anything. Hell, he was kind of planning on just bailing. He had to bring food and blankets and things to the hungry kid he'd found in the warehouse district anyway. But it was February 14th, and, whatever else that meant, mostly it just meant that he was accepting the necessity of actually being at this particular job today.

Just because he sucked at showing up half the time didn't mean he wasn't still employed here, after all.

The giant metal rooster was wearing a pink feather boa and heart-shaped sunglasses today, and Sparkle had a sign out advertising a buy one toy, get the other one half-off sale. Because, you know, of the date and all.

[Open and flying without OCD, whee!]

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Eleanor wouldn't typically have stopped in -- the store did not look like it had anything she exactly needed, although after this last weekend, perhaps her estimations on that front were off.

But she noticed Sparkle, and so she avoided the giant metal rooster (she wouldn't ask, she wouldn't) in order to head straight to the counter and speak with him.

"I owe you an apology," she began. "For ... placing a wig on you and attempting a kidnapping."

Also, she had no idea if her other self had made good on the offer of fifty bucks. That was going to be a steep bit of what she had left, but debts were debts.

Hey, Sparkle didn't hold people to promises made while crazy.

He'd like the fifty bucks, but beggars couldn't be choosers, or something.

"Hey, no worries. This is just textbook Fandom crazy," he replied with a shrug. "Got a kiss out of the deal from... some...guy... So it's not a total loss?"

He didn't sound entirely convinced.

"I kissed two men, so I believe I'm ahead of you on that count," Eleanor said. Okay, one of them she'd just serviced at a funeral, but she was fairly sure there had been lip-to-lip contact at some point.

The implications caught up to her a moment later. "Wait, do you mean that you're on the Kinsey scale?"

She'd only had a hurried glance at the report, what she'd managed to steal from Mother's periodicals, so she wasn't exactly up on the terminology.

"Uh, honey, everyone sits somewhere on the Kinsey Scale," Sparkle pointed out, raising an eyebrow and leaning forward against the counter. "The question is, am I closer to six or zero. And what does it matter to you, whether or not I need an extra hand to count that high, huh?"

Whelp. Now Sparks was on the defensive.

Eleanor tilted her head at Sparkle, trying to follow where this conversation had gone wrong.

"Is that an insulting question?" she asked. "If so, I apologize. I seem to excel at those, unintentionally."

Like, say, asking Joker what was wrong with his legs. Apparently 'Kinsey scale' went with 'damaged legs' in the 'not polite conversational topics'?

She flushed a bit. "It was just curiosity," she admitted. "I've never met anyone who's a six ... or zero ... I forget which one is which. That is, I don't know that I've met anyone who is a six or a zero, as they've never mentioned it. But I don't know that many people to start."

Huge understatement. Big one.

Sparkle studied Eleanor for a long moment before relenting, sighing, and leaning back again, crossing his arms over his chest.

"A lot of people will get on a person's case about that sort of thing," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Like it's any of their business what someone else does behind closed doors. You don't just... I mean, it'd be kickass to be able to just be out in the open about it, but... fuck. Forget it. You didn't mean anything by it, that's cool."

It took her a moment before she nodded. "I see," she said. "Making what's different into the other. Creating a scapegoat and enforcing social norms by setting boundaries of what consists us vs. them. The usual story. I hadn't realized that was one of the possible criteria."

Excuse Eleanor; her mother was a psychiatrist, and she'd done miles more reading than she had talking to other human beings.

Eleanor cleared her throat, and her cheeks were a touch pink. "I was going to apologize, to you, about you having to kiss a strange man? So I was confused when you listed it as a perk, that's all. So let me apologize for having to kiss a stranger, gender notwithstanding, and say that I'm pleased the kiss was rather nice."

Her not-herself hook-ups had been rather enjoyable, at that.

"That apology, I'll take," Sparkle decided, smiling faintly. "Though you really couldn't have done anything about it. It's not like anyone really sees that kind of weekend crazy coming."

Oh, there were other weekend crazies that could be more or less predicted. But that particular one? Not so much.

"I've heard it happens quite a bit," Eleanor said with a decided frown. "Maybe next time I'll just bar myself in my room for the weekend, so as to avoid whatever consequences are lurking."

But really, what fun would that be?

"Do you suppose the dance tonight is safe, at least?"

Weirdness didn't typically start until Saturday.

Oh, honey. If it happened again, like you'd be with-it enough to know to bar the door.

"The dances are usually safe. Wouldn't hold my breath for a sane weekend after, going by the past... month," Sparkle replied with a shrug. "You're going to that, huh? Been to many dances before?"

Considering the clothes she'd been wearing when he first met her...

"Never," Eleanor said. "I hadn't decided whether to attend or not, but I suppose it's something to go and see."

Oh, hey, guess what just occurred to her.

"Is there some sort of ... dress code, for such things?"

Edited 2014-02-14 19:51 (UTC)

"You, uh." Sparkle blinked. "Well, it's not a dress code per se. I mean, they aren't going to chuck you out the door or anything. Why, what were you going to wear?"

Eleanor glanced down at her current ensemble. That being a pair of jeans and a powder-blue sweater.

"I suppose ... not ... this?" she managed. "I'm guessing now that this would be wrong."

"Yeah... no, not..."

Sparkle looked at her critically for a moment.

"... That's pretty much all you've got, isn't it?"

He should know. He'd helped pick it all out.

Eleanor laughed. "I envy the odd self I was this past weekend in one regard," she admitted. "Her wardrobe was filled with the most charming numbers. It all seems to have disappeared with her, unfortunately."

"The island kind of does that," Sparkle agreed, and then checked his watch. "I'm off in like half an hour anyway. If you want, I can sign out here, take you over to my other job, and help you pick out something good for the dance tonight?"

"... would you mind?" Eleanor asked. "I hate to be a bother. And people might ... need the services of this shop, today."

The condoms, for one. She had discovered the importance of those last weekend.

"Yeah, maybe I'll just put up a sign saying I'll be back in the evening," Sparkle mused with a shrug. "I'm not planning on going to the dance, anyway."

He'd heard something about goats.

"Not going?" Eleanor considered that for a few moments. "Are you not a fan of dances, then? I don't know yet if I'll like them or not."

"I usually like 'em?" Sparkle shrugged. "But I have a thing I have to do tonight. It's kind of important."

He shifted his weight, looked a little uncomfortable, and then shrugged and reached for his keys.

"C'mon," he said, "let's get you prettied up for the ball, Cinderella."

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Dite's Decadent Delights, Friday

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