fandomtownies | Demon Marcus, Sunday

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Demon Marcus, Sunday

"Oh, I can be your hero baaaaby--"

Yes, today was going to be a 'dancing around the shop singing Enrique songs' day, for no real reason beyond that he just sort of felt like it, and the song had popped into his head, and if he was doing that he wasn't, like, constantly refreshing Twitter or something stupid.

So. Enrique. The song was almost as old as he was, but Sparkle wasn't going to let a little thing like that stop him. Besides, his music was really fun to fold jeans to.

So there.

[OOC: Open! Bah on the OCD today.]

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At some point around the middle of Sparkle's shift, the door to the stockroom suddenly glowed an eerie, pale blue, as though someone had lit it from behind. There was a faint whooshing noise, and the door opened, spilling out a very tall, very dapper old man.

Not even Jenkins could get past that first step through the barrier without at least a bit of a stumble.

"I told you," he said over his shoulder as he righted himself. "It's nothing personal. Don't get all clingy on me now." He shut the door behind him, then dusted off his already dust-free sleeves and adjusted his bow tie.

A needy portal was no reason to make a poor first impression.

Well, he had definitely made an impression on Sparkle, who had been halfway through Bailando and who was seriously contemplating moving on to Ricky Martin's discography just to mix it up a little bit when his stockroom started glowing and then spat out a man in a suit.

"Uh."

So, hi, Jenkins. Your first impression meant that there was a guy just standing there staring at you with his mouth hanging open and a pair of half-folded galaxy-print leggings in hand.

"Can I... help you?"

It kind of looked like maybe this guy's suit game was a little above Demon Marcus' typical merchandise quality already.

"Ah. Hello, young man." Jenkins inclined his head in a very slight bow, then took in the store. "Yes, perhaps you might -- how much are those leggings?"

Cassandra would love them.

Sparkle looked at the man. And then at the leggings. And then at the price tag on the leggings.

"Nineteen-ninety-nine?"

That wasn't meant to be a question, really, but he was still processing the concept of some guy just appearing in his storage room for the purpose of buying leggings. He'd be a minute before he was firing on all cylinders again.

"A bargain at twice the price, I'm sure." He pulled a twenty from his wallet and held it out for Sparkle to take. "Now tell me, are we actually in Canada, or are you a transplant?"

His research had shown Fandom was in Baltimore, currently. Landing in Toronto instead would be deeply embarrassing.

Slow blink.

And another one, for good measure.

"Transplant," he replied, walking over to take the money. "And how. Would you like a bag for this?"

A pause.

"And is it, like, my accent that gave it away, or what?"

"A bag will do just fine, thank you." Jenkins pocketed his wallet again, then returned to looking around the store, pausing to take a closer look at some of the other printed leggings. "What they can do with fabric dye these days, my word." He looked back up and nodded. "It was the accent, yes. The particular shape of your vowels, if you want to get specific. Lovely country, Canada. Excellent hiking."

"Well, yeah, I'm sure there is." Sparkle looked... a touch bemused, still, but he seemed to be getting over it, more or less, as he wandered behind the counter to get a bag for the leggings. "You, uh, show up in storage rooms like that often, do you?"

"Storage rooms? Not at all," Jenkins said. "Like that? On occasion." Clear as mud this one was. "So now that we've established that it isn't Canada, may I ask where precisely we are?"

"An island off Baltimore," Sparkle shared, squinting just the tiniest bit while he tried to process... whatever this was that was happening here. "Fandom Island? Ever hear of it, or are you one of the people who just kind of got lost on the way to somewhere else?"

"Excellent." Jenkins clapped his hands, then raised his eyebrows at the question. "Is that something that happens often?" He walked to the front door and peered out towards the sky. "The ley lines do converge rather interestingly over this location. I suppose it'd make sense that inexperienced individuals using magical means might find themselves accidentally --" He swirled his hands in something of a tornado motion. "-- funneled here, as it were."

"I mean, it kinda just happens to people at random, sometimes," Sparkle replied, tilting his head a bit.

Ley lines?

That was a thing?

"Between portals and the causeway and... this is where you wanted to be?"

In his storage room?

"Not your establishment specifically," Jenkins assured him. "But precise targeting gets tricky when there's local magical interference." He looked curiously back at Sparkle. "You are familiar with magic, aren't you, Mr. . . ?"

Surely no one would be living in a place like this without at least a passing familiarity with magic.

"Just Sparkle is fine," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "And yeah, of course I'm familiar with it. Sort of. My particular Canada doesn't have it, but I've been here long enough to have an idea of what to expect around here. Off and on."

Still. Guys in storage rooms. That was new.

"Your particular Canada," Jenkins repeated. "Interesting. So you're saying you've heard of Canadas where magic is used out in the open?"

Sparkle gave his shoulders yet another shrug. That seemed to be the in thing, here.

"I mean, yeah," he replied. "One of my best friends from back in my school days was from a place like that, I think. Or at least it had fairies or something."

He hadn't really been completely sure of the specifics. He just kind of rolled with a lot of stuff, when it came to Kenzi.

"There's a whole multiverse, you know? It's bound to happen out there somewhere."

"Fascinating." Oh yes, this was going to be much better than hanging around the Library, trying to pretend that the current Guardian hadn't let him get turned into stone and kidnapped by the military. "Well, fairies themselves are mostly extremely irritating. But the coming together of so many different divergences. . . . I don't suppose anyone's kept records of them?"

Sparkle gave his shoulders - you guessed it - yet another shrug.

"I mean, if they don't have something at the library, you might be able to ask at Portalocity," he offered. "Since they have the service that lets you travel between all those realities, you know? Ever heard of them?"

Jenkins raised an eyebrow and frowned. "No." Which was very strange. It sounded rather like something Ezekiel might have cooked up. "To be clear, you did say 'library', yes? Not 'Library'?"

There was totally a difference. Though maybe not to the untrained ear.

"... Yes?"

Okay, look, Sparkle was going to have to ask, here.

"There's a difference?"

See? Untrained ear.

"Hmmm. Quite." Jenkins frowned a little more, then brightened back up. "Nothing you need be concerned by. I take it there are lodging options on the island?"

"Sure," Sparkle replied, tilting his head. "How long are you sticking around? There's the hotel, and there are a few apartment buildings that can put you up for longer. Or, like, a lot of businesses have upstairs apartments, if the owners are interested in renting out."

Lots of options!

"I've not yet decided," Jenkins said. Hence the lack of bags. He had quite a few things back at the Annex that would need moving if he chose to stay for any significant length of time. "I'm sure the hotel will do very well in the meantime. Thank you, Mr. Sparkle."

It took one of tremendous age to manage to say a phrase like 'Mr. Sparkle' with quite so much dignity.

... Especially since it was, like, dish soap.

"Yeah, you're welcome, Mr...?"

Suit Guy?

"Jenkins. Pleasure."

"Pleasure," Sparkle echoed, bemused all over again. "Yeah, the hotel is... that way," he pointed, "and if there's anything else you need to know about the island, they can probably help you out there. Or you can come back here. Uh. Through the front door."

"Of course, Mr. Sparkle. The back door disconnected as soon as I closed it."

"... Well, there's a relief," Sparkle decided, then smiled wryly as he held the bag out toward... Jenkins.

Weird guy. Well dressed. He'd fit in great around here.

"Welcome to Fandom, sir. You're in for a treat, here."

Jenkins accepted the bag with another slight bow. "I hope so, Mr. Sparkle. I've grown used to fair amount of adventure again in the last few years. I'd hate to get bored."

"And this place is only boring right up until it isn't," Sparkle replied, though his curiosity was piqued by the mention of adventure. "What sort of adventure?"

Soooo curious.

"The magic sort." It took one of tremendous age to manage to give a look quite that withering. "Of course."

And it took one of tremendously jaded youth to give one quite so unimpressed.

"Of course," Sparkle replied, raising an eyebrow. "We've had one or two of those sort around here, too."

Well, that was just adorable.

"Yes, tiny punk child, I did work that out. What with the ley lines. As I said."

"I'm not--"

Tiny?

A child?

"Dammit."

He was kind of both of those things, wasn't he?

"Well, congratulations on being super observant, I guess?"

"Thank you. It's really not that hard."

"I'm sure," Sparkle muttered, wrinkling his nose a bit. Dammit, he hated when people pointed out that he was tiny.

HE COULDN'T HELP IT IF HE WAS A SHORT GUY ON AN ISLAND FULL OF FREAKING GIANTS.

If it helped, Sparkle, Jenkins thought most people were tiny.

"Give it a try, sometime. You may enjoy it." He raised his bag in a small salute. "Thank you again for the information." He glanced at the bag. "And the leggings."

"You're welcome," Sparkle replied, though this time around he was sounding dubious all over again. "And, uh, enjoy your stay on the island."

Weird rude old man.

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Demon Marcus, Sunday

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