Groovy Tunes, Wednesday

[nobloodymessiah.livejournal.com]

Sometime during the night, a few of the monsters had apparently smashed out one of the windows in the front of Groovy Tunes. There wasn't much damage, all things considered, but a few racks had been knocked over, and many of the tiny fragile disks hadn't survived the journey.

Eleanor supposed it was her job to pick up the cases, sweep up the broken shards, and take inventory on what was destroyed as opposed to just relocated, but that sounded dull. She wasn't paid enough for that sort of nonsense.

Instead she propped open the doors and waited. Sooner or later, some more of those interesting monsters were bound to wander by. If she stayed in the store, she was still technically at work, right?

Groovy Tunes was open. More or less.

(open, OCD-free! Expect some SP while I am at work plz & ty! ... also edited to fix the fact that I apparently can't read oopsie you saw nothing)

Comments

[fly-so-serious.livejournal.com]

So... radio said Eleanor had gone through "more, creepier changes". Jeff didn't know what that meant -- and wasn't sure he wanted to know. And yet he found himself braving all the things outside, anyway. Would Eleanor be at her job? Shouldn't he have just waited until later and found her in her room? Honestly, Jeff wasn't making the best choices with his life the past few days.

So he dove through the door of the music shop and shut it before the bear that was chasing him could come in. He set down the lacrosse helmet and stick he'd swiped from the gym, which offered adequate protection against approximately none of the things flooding the island, and turned to face Eleanor.

"Hey. 'Sup?"

[nobloodymessiah.livejournal.com]

Eleanor had tensed, when the door opened -- but what a disappointment. It wasn't a monster to fight, just that crippled kid.

... Who appeared to be walking. So, that was interesting.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "What's going on with your legs?"

[fly-so-serious.livejournal.com]

Maybe the radio was wrong. Or maybe she'd already changed again. "Eleanor! You're back! My legs are fine. I was so worried about you!" He wanted to run up and hug her, but he hung back just in case the radio was right.

Had he fixed her, by poking the weather machine with a stick? Please say that he had.

[nobloodymessiah.livejournal.com]

"I can see that they're fine," Eleanor said, folding her arms. What was with the not-so-crippled kid acting cozy? "So you play the crippled card for a few months for sympathy and then ditch the crutches? I'm not seeing the upside."

[fly-so-serious.livejournal.com]

"Nnnno," Jeff replied dubiously. "Not crippled, haven't been crippled. I mean, except for that one weekend everyone was crazy." He gave Eleanor a wary eye. "What's with the 'tude?"

[nobloodymessiah.livejournal.com]

"What's with the friendlies?" she asked, gesturing vaguely at him. "You spent two months hobbling around and whining about your bad genetics. If it's a scam, it seems rather short-sighted, and if you've had some miracle cure, I'm not sure why you'd think I care."

[fly-so-serious.livejournal.com]

... Oh.

"The only think wrong with my genetics," Jeff told her, "is a predisposition to high cholesterol. So, either I've changed, or you're playing some cruel sick joke on me. But as for you..." Jeff shook his head. "What crawled up your ass and died?"

[nobloodymessiah.livejournal.com]

"You aren't something interesting to kill," Eleanor said with a shrug. "You're boring. Did you think we were friends? Are you from some world where your legs work and I'm incredibly lame?"

[fly-so-serious.livejournal.com]

Jeff looked at her with sad eyes. He couldn't tell which was worse, this or the creepy empty -- okay, no, the creepy messiah-thing was way worse. The person in front of him might be cruel and distant, but she was still at least partly Eleanor.

He sighed. "I'm from a world where we're friends, yes. Where you're... nicer."

[nobloodymessiah.livejournal.com]

"So we were both crippled," she said lightly. "It sounds dull. Is that why you're here? To protect me? I'm not in need of any assistance."

[fly-so-serious.livejournal.com]

"Being nice isn't being crippled," Jeff insisted. "I'm not here to... anything. I just wanted to... I don't even know." Everything was still depressingly wrong. He affected a deep, mocking voice. "Here comes Jeff, being a tool! See what a tool he is! Mock, at your leisure!"

[nobloodymessiah.livejournal.com]

"I hardly need your permission for that," Eleanor said mildly. Tormenting him was at least more interesting than she'd expected, even if it was far less fun than killing dinosaurs. "Being nice is a handicap. It blinds you to reality. Makes you lose sight of what's important."

Here, she was handing out free life lessons. Wasn't that nice of her?

[fly-so-serious.livejournal.com]

"What's important are friends, loved one, relationships, connections..." Jeff shrugged. "I mean, otherwise what's the point?"

[nobloodymessiah.livejournal.com]

"Indulgence. Amusement. Survival." Eleanor shrugged. "Relationships and connections slow one down. I'm free of that burden."

[fly-so-serious.livejournal.com]

"Oh, good, you're a sociopath," Jeff sighed. Out loud. To her face. Good move there, Jeff! "Sooooo... I think maybe I'll just go. You know, if you want something fun to murder, the streets are full of dinosaurs and things."