fandomtownies | Needful Things, Friday Afternoon

He does so love customers.

Eliot barely managed to avoid storming into the shop, keeping his cool mostly by virtue of years of practice on cons. The squirrels had enough to report on without adding color commentary about Eliot being rude or something. He should have caught a portal home from Geneva, but he didn't trust the things, so instead he was fresh off 12 hours of flight time spent questioning basically every decision he'd ever made -- but especially all the ones since coming into this shop on Wednesday.

He just needed to get that damn necklace already. Then everything would be fine.

He forced a smile and waved to the shopkeeper -- and realized he'd never learned the man's name. He was seriously off his game. "Hey. Mr. . . ?"

"Gaunt," Leland said, offering a smile. "Leland Gaunt, at your service."

Though really, it was the other way around. He had Eliot dancing to his tune.

"I don't believe I caught your name, either, Mr ... ?"

"Eliot Spencer." He pulled the thumb drive he'd downloaded the Interpol information onto out of his pocket. "Though I'd appreciate you not mention that if anyone asks where you got this."

"I shan't speak a word," Leland replied. He was gesturing the man further into the store, over towards the jewelry counter. "That's usually my line, at these sales events. I do like my buyers to have a sense of discretion."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Eliot acknowledged that that was extremely strange. Mostly, though, he just nodded. "Ain't gonna be an issue."

Most of the time, Leland's store ran heavily on word of mouth. But most small towns only had one or two individuals of whom he needed to be wary. This town was full of imminent disaster, and thus required extra precautions.

The challenge only made the whole thing more fun.

"Let's see," he said, opening the jewelry display with an air of casualness. "It was this one that caught your fancy, wasn't it? The claw."

Eliot's eyes zeroed right in on the necklace. His hand came up almost of its own volition, and he only barely kept himself from trying to snatch it from the case himself. "Yeah." He licked his lips. "That's the one."

Leland perhaps took more care than was needed, removing it from the case and laying it on the counter next to his cash register. He liked watching Eliot's face as he moved, slowly, deliberately. He liked seeing the nervous anticipation, and drawing the moment out.

He gestured to the empty space next to the necklace, for Eliot to lay down the thumb drive. Better that way; it meant no touching. Humans got so skittery when they touched him.

"I trust all the information is here," he said. And he did trust it. Eliot wouldn't risk him saying "no," would he?

Eliot looked up long enough to glare at Leland, professional pride momentarily overriding cursed obsession. He set the thumb drive down with a firm clack. "It's all there. You wanna check it?"

"I imagine I don't need to," he said, carefully interlacing his fingers. "I would apologize about the trouble you have gone to, but that would be disingenuous and insincere of me. I do thank you."

He picked up the drive and smiled at it. "This is quite a boon. I hope you enjoy your purchase as much."

Eliot grabbed the necklace the moment Leland's hands cleared the counter. He hadn't missed the fact that Leland didn't want to be touched, and had no intention of crossing that boundary. (He intended to never see this man again, if at all possible. But until then, he'd respect the "no touching" rule.) He tucked the necklace away with a slight of hand trick he'd learned from Parker, essentially making it disappear before he tossed Leland a somewhat sarcastic salute.

"Pleasure doin' business."

"It certainly has, Mr. Spencer," Leland said, with a genuine smile. "It certainly has."

One down ...

It wasn't that Jones necessarily needed anything. However she had visited other shops in town and since this one was relatively new, perhaps it had a new experience.

She surveyed the store as she entered and started to make a slow circle around as she examined the merchandise.

Leland Gaunt watched the newcomer with a decided frown. He couldn't get a good read on her. That was usually reason enough for him to avoid customers, but he didn't have a sense of danger from this one. She was not necessarily what he termed a hard sell. But he would tread carefully.

None of that trepidation was present in his greeting.

"Welcome!" he said brightly. "Do come in to my humble little shop. Leland Gaunt, at your service."

"Jones," she replied leaning over to look at one particular trinket. "Interesting shop you have here."

"I do what I can," Leland said breezily. "I am but a peddler, traveling from town to town, hawking my wares. Perhaps I was a wandering merchant in days long past in another life. I imagine I was born in the wrong century."

He hadn't been born at all, and certainly not in any particular century. But he did feel a pang of nostalgia for those days. They had been a tremendous amount of fun.

"Interesting spiel," Jones replied as she straightened up. "Is that pitch an attempt to give me a sense of nostalgia for days long ago?"

Jones could remember back as far as the Hadean period so she had a rather long memory.

But she had no sense of fun whatsoever.

They ought to get together and discuss the good old days some time. All that superstition had made people so delightful to toy with.

"It's my patter," he said, aiming for charming and confiding with his smile. "I do a great deal of business related to nostalgia. Antiques seem to appeal to our sentiments more than our logic, and I shift to match what my clients expect of me."

Jones had definitely stories to tell from her "good old days". Including the time a village tried to kill her for being a "witch". She hardly found it delightful.

Jones didn't return the smile. Most people found it unnerving. Even Leland might hesitate at the sight.

"Sentiments and desire seem to attract most people to purchase rather than necessity," she agreed. "I tend to only purchase items I find necessary rather than sentimental."

Oh, he'd nearly been killed as a witch, too! The reminiscings they could be having.

It did strike him as odd, that the woman wasn't smiling. Was she on to him, or was she simply bored by all of this?

He had to assume the latter.

"I try to sell people what it is that they need," he said. He couldn't read her, so it couldn't hurt. to ask. "You, for example," he continued, smiling as if he was a conjuring magician. "If I were to ask you what one thing you want more than anything else in the world -- so much so that sentiment, reason, and all such things simply cease to matter. What would you say?"

"I want for nothing," Jones replied frankly. "I have no need for food, drink, sleep or anything a typical person would need in their lifespan."

She continued to walk through the shop as she examined another item on the table. "I apologize if that frustrates you. I realize small businesses have it tough in today's economy."

"Nor are you limited by a typical person's lifespan," he noted. "I believe I begin to see."

That was why he couldn't read her. She was Old, possibly older even than he was. How imminently fascinating.

"As a result, you have neither want nor needs," he said. "Tell me. What is it that motivates you? Why leave bed in the morning? We all must have a purpose, a reason to exist, or else the sheer ennui will grind one into dust."

Jones tilted her head at Leland, as if she were somewhat curious.

"I don't sleep, so getting out of bed is hardly a chore," she replied evenly. "And honestly I find purpose in teaching others. May I ask you a question?"

A teacher. She might be attached to the children, in some nonsensical way. He needed to step carefully.

"But of course, madam," he said, folding his hands elegantly behind himself. "I am an open book before you."

"What exactly do you 'see' about me?" Jones asked. "Most newcomers to this island would have some sort of reaction to a woman who doesn't need to sleep or eat. You however seem more interested in what I want."

"A conjecture," Leland Gaunt replied. "Most newcomers to this island expect something which walks with a human shape to be human. Contrary to them, I have experience with other life forms, and find myself especially curious about you. Does that answer your question sufficiently?"

"Yes," She replied pausing to turn around to look at Leland, her head again tilted with curiosity. "Though now I must wonder exactly how you've come across other life forms while being just a simple 'peddler' hawking your wares."

Leland's smile was wide. "I have traveled a great many places," he said. "I have items here that speak of a world larger than many of these minds could comprehend. My patter is true, so far as that matters: I am a salesman, one who wanders the land and barters with any whom he encounters. But my travels span farther than this globe."

"You are not human," Jones stated after a moments pause. Her posture changed slightly and her hands went behind her back. "What are you exactly?"

"Old," Leland said with a smile. "Much older than anyone here realizes. I sell trinkets to eager buyers. I travel. I am no cursed figure, no Wandering Jew forced to roam the land. I simply enjoy my role, as do you."

"I don't feel anything," Jones replied evenly. "And I'm quite aware how it is to be 'old.' And to do extensive... traveling. What brings you to Fandom of all places? Surely there's a better market for these trinkets."

"Is there?" Leland asked, raising an eyebrow. "Many cities, no one would believe half of my items are real. Or I find a town full of people who've so many abilities and wonders that my goods pale in comparison. This town seems ideal."

"Many people here are not from this world and wouldn't appreciate the cultural significance of a trading card with the picture of Babe Ruth on it," Jones noted as she gestured to a particular item in the shop. "Somehow I doubt your little routine would entice such patrons of your shop."

Leland smiled, turning to stare at the card with a bit of a sigh. That card was one of his more popular items, some locations.

"Perhaps you don't understand," he said, lifting his shoulders. "I don't need every patron of this establishment to want a small piece of American baseball history. Just one."

"And what does one get with a purchase of such a card?" Jones asked. "Other than a simple piece of paper?"

"The feeling of connection, I would presume," Leland Gaunt said, a faint smile creeping across his lips. "Nostalgia. Perhaps one of them saw Babe Ruth in his prime. Or another knew his father loved the man, so holding the paper draws them closer to his memory."

He turned his attention to his customer.

"Might I ask you a question?" he said.

"Certainly," Jones replied with a nod. "Go ahead."

"Do you ask this many questions to all new shopkeepers in this town?" he asked, aiming for a light tone. "Or are you curious about my enterprise in particular?"

"A shopkeep who seems to be more than he is raises my curiosity," Jones replied evenly. "Beings as old of us tend to have interesting pasts and motives. I don't know what you mean to do. And I find I'm not really sure if I care."

If you'd like to browse, or to buy something non-cursed. (You can do either of those in the above thread, if you'd prefer.)

No world-ending. That's not any fun.

Needful Things, Friday Afternoon

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