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Demon Marcus, Sunday

If Sparkle was sitting up atop the counter at Demon Marcus today, well, there was a reason for that.

A little green reason, that was lurking around the floor, looking up at him and occasionally gnashing its teeth viciously.

"No way," Sparkle said.

"Bitey! Chompy!" the gremlin said back.

"You already chewed the shit out of my mannequins, I think that means you lost your 'chomping Sparkle' privileges."

The gremlin didn't seem convinced.

Demon Marcus was open. Mind the gremlin.

[OOC: Open!]

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Having been reminded on Friday that he did in fact have friends here, Peter dropped by when he knew Sparkle would be in.

"Hey." He frowned. "Why are you up on the counter?"

"Oh, shit!" Sparkle waved his hands over at Peter. "I'm up here because of the--"

"CHOMPY BITEY CHOMPY BITEY!!!"

"... Gremlin."

Sorry, Peter. Your ankle was getting super attacked, now.

"Hey, ow!" Peter swooped down and grabbed up the thing by the scruff of its neck. "Stop that!"

It didn't seem inclined to, screeching and squirming, He shifted his hand and arm into iron and scowled at it, waiting.

Sparkle grimaced.

"Yeah, he's been prowling around all morning. Uh. You okay there?"

"I'm fine," Peter assured him. "If I can..." He stopped and concentrated, calling up a cage of green light around the little thing. He let go of it and set the cage on a table of shirts. "Now calm down!" he told it.

Sparkle watched as the gremlin tried experimentally gnawing on the bars of the cage.

"Yeah, I don't think he's gonna listen.

Peter sighed. "If you don't quiet down, I'll put you to sleep and set you loose in the park," he threatened.

The gremlin snarled loudly one last time, then started...sulking?

Peter turned to Sparkle. "So hi, how are you?"

"Well, I've been sitting on my counter being terrorized by a gremlin for the past, like, three hours? My legs are cramping up." He squinted at the gremlin. "I was this close to calling Atton to deal with him."

Sparkle had numerous knives on his person, but he didn't want to kill the thing just because it was being a dick.

"How about you?"

"Not bad," Peter said. "I realized I've been a bit of a hermit lately, thought I should get out." He reached out a hand to help Sparkle down, if he wanted it.

Sparkle smiled faintly and accepted that hand. Sure, he could get down just fine on his own, but when a hot guy offered his hand, you took it, damn it. Even if he wasn't into you and it wasn't going to go anywhere and shut up, Sparkle had an active imagination.

"Come back and mingle with we common folk?" He chuckled as he slid back down to the floor. "Why, Peter, I'm honoured."

"Stop brooding and come see my friends," Peter corrected. He leaned up against the counter. "How've you been when not being terrorized by little green delinquents?"

"Busy," Sparkle admitted. "School I'm teaching. School I'm not. Running this place. I'd say I'm really just lucky the island hasn't tried to kill me yet this semester, but we know that's just asking for trouble."

"Yeah, probably. School you're not?" Peter asked.

"Yeah," Sparkle replied, shrugging. "I'm doing this costume design course on the mainland? Figured it'd be useful even if I don't end up staying here working the clothing shop forever."

"Oh, okay. I couldn't figure out why you cared about school you weren't teaching." He smiled wryly. "I don't know much about costumes, but if you need a reference for anything from the last few centuries, I can at least tell you if it looks right."

"Hey, I appreciate it," Sparkle replied, smiling faintly. "I mean, I've got Google, but Google might not actually tell me if there are certain ways to wear certain things, or whatever."

"There are definitely certain ways to wear a lot of things." Peter gave him a crooked grin. "Don't get me started about period movies. I try not to look too close."

"Oh god, I bet," Sparkle laughed. "I get pissy enough when people commit fashion faux-pas in the here and now."

"I'm not exactly a fashion guru or anything," Peter said. "It's just when they dress someone really wrong, sometimes it's hard not to notice. Or it makes it hard to figure out when something's set if the clothes are all over the place."

"Living around here has made me both not notice when things are all over the place, and way more aware of how weird it is for people who are new here," Sparkle mused. "You haven't lived until someone's come in and yelled at you because you didn't offer them a dressing room to change their gloves in."

Peter winced. "I can guess who that was."

"I mean, it isn't like she's not blatantly obvious about it," Sparkle noted. And then he shrugged. "For what it's worth, she's gotten... less shitty? I want to say 'better,' but that suggests that she's improved, instead of just her attitude about me in particular, and I really don't think that's the case."

"No," Peter admitted. "She was more worried that she might have offended any more of my friends than if she were being a decent person. I'm not really sure what more I can do, though."

Thumping her over the head would end badly.

Sparkle shrugged his shoulders.

"Speak up when she does something shitty. Don't just let it sit. She might not like it, but if she's going to be stuck here, she's got to get it through her spoiled head. Not just for her sake, either. She calls everyone that isn't Radchaai uncivilized and doesn't give a shit that it's insulting, because why would she? It isn't like anyone but civilized people deserve consideration."

He wrinkled his nose a little.

"Really convenient that she's the only one here she considers civilized. Means she doesn't have to ever be held accountable for her own bullshit."

Sparkle did not intend to let her bullshit slide, ever. So it was unfortunate for Seivarden that she seemed to have latched on to him for some reason.

Peter grimaced. "That sounds like my family. Unfortunately, I was one of them and they still wouldn't listen for years. But I'll do what I can."

At least Seivarden wasn't killing people.

Anymore.

"Thanks," Sparkle replied. "Like... I'd originally banned her from my shop not because she was rude to me, but because I would hate to have to fucking murder somebody if they came in and did anything to upset my employee. Ever."

He didn't exactly have a wealth of experience with murder. It would probably get messy. He might have to ask Hannibal how to deal with a body. And there was a conversation he never wanted to have. So.

"But if I'm the only one telling her that she's a fucking shithead, she'll just find excuses not to listen. It's like a dog who shits on the floor. If only one person rubs their nose in it, the dog is just going to learn not to shit on the floor when that person is around, and that's all."

That was an image Peter definitely didn't need.

"I've tried to explain being nice, and I'll keep doing it," Peter promised. "But it might take something big to shake her out of it."

"Being nice," Sparkle drawled, "isn't a courtesy she affords to anyone who isn't Radchaai or useful to her, personally."

He shrugged a little.

"Maybe with little small words..."

“I’ve noticed.” Peter sighed. “I’m trying to get the rest of it across, but that’s a lot of prejudice to overcome.”

"A lot of ego, too." Sparkle shrugged. "But either she'll figure it out, or she'll piss off the wrong person and find herself holding her own spleen. I guess we'll see what comes first."

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Demon Marcus, Sunday

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