Needful Things; Friday

[totalwildcard]

There was a lot of hustlin' and bustlin' happening at Needful Things that Friday: shelves being dusted, random crap being cleared out, things getting generally organized better...

And Harley was sitting in a nice antique chair right outside the open door, bundled up in an extremely bright and fluffy fake fur coat with a steaming cup of takeaway coffee in hand, overseeing the whole thing. Work smarter not harder, right? So she'd done the smart thing and hired random NPC people off the street to do the hard stuff to get the store into a better and less sneeze inducing state.

She was looking pretty pleased with herself.

And occasionally wiggling her fingers at Bruce through the glass, as he was lounging in the window and eyeing the workers with curiosity.

(ooc: open!)

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[pocketpretzels]

Having finished up at the Trooper Station a little early today (look, it was the last weekday before going on holiday, it was quiet, and… he was in charge. So why not?), Watts swung by Needful Things, a tote bag slung over his shoulder.

“Afternoon, Miss Quinn,” he greeted. Because yes, Marc had shown him that business card she’d given him.

[totalwildcard]

Harley's head lolled back a little against the chair, not unlike that of a petulant child.

"Oh, do we really gotta be that formal? Really?"

[pocketpretzels]

“I- ah. I realize people in this time are- somewhat less so,” Watts admitted. “But its what I am accustomed to.”

[totalwildcard]

Harley gave an overly dramatic sigh.

"Well if you wanna at least do it right," she said, with slightly less of a whine, "think it's technically Dr. Quinn. Not Miss."

[pocketpretzels]

“Dr. Quinn, then,” Watts said, with a nod of acknowledgement. “May I ask what you are a doctor of?”

[totalwildcard]

"Psychiatry," Harley replied brightly, all whine altogether gone. "Though of course I'm not currently practicing."

[pocketpretzels]

“No, or else you likely wouldn’t be overseeing the restoration of this shop,” Watts agreed.

[totalwildcard]

"Unless it was a side hustle!" Harley suggested. Which, in all honesty, this store she'd stolen probably was. Just not as an aside from psychiatry.

Anyway, a thought occurred to her, and now she was looking up at the sign on the window. "Oh, that would be a good name if I wanted to rename this place... Side Hustle."

[pocketpretzels]

“What, if I may ask is a ‘side-hustle’?” Watts asked curiously. He had an idea, based on context, but it was always best to get the full definition when it came to modern slang.

[totalwildcard]

It also worked to draw Harley's attention away from the store's sign again, which was probably in everyone's best interest.

"Oh, it's like a side thing you do aside from your main thing," she explained, helpfully, at least in her own estimation. But what would be a good example? "Like... pickpocketing, if your main thing is bank jobs!"

[pocketpretzels]

“I see,” Watts said. “Or a physician who occasionally consults for the coroner’s office?” he asked, thinking of Dr. Ogden.

[totalwildcard]

"Sure," Harley agreed easily enough. "Whatever you gotta do to make ends meet, yanno?"

[pocketpretzels]

“Understood,” Watts nodded. Not that Julia Ogden had ever had trouble making ends meet. “And you’ve decided to make your ends meet by opening up a-“ he squinted at the window, trying to figure out what sort of shop this was intended to be. “Pawn shop?” he guessed.

[totalwildcard]

Harley looked much too offended for someone who had taken a while to figure out what the place was supposed to be.

"It's an antique store!" she objected, then faltered. "And... other second hand.. stuff."

[pocketpretzels]

“Ah, yes, of course,” Watts nodded. “I suppose I’m not the best judge of that,” he offered in something like an apology. “As many items that people from this era would consider ‘antique’ are what would simply be contemporary in the era I am originally from.”

[totalwildcard]

Harley held on to her affronted look for exactly as long as it took for her to process that, and then her face immediately brightened again.

"I'll accept that," she decided. "And, oh! Have you ever considered importing goods from your... time, and selling them as antiques in this one?"

Because Harley sure was.

[pocketpretzels]

“Not selling them, as such,” Watts said. “Though I have, yes, brought in a few things here and there as gifts for people. Ah!” he snapped his fingers. “Speaking of gifts, was Steven already by?”

[totalwildcard]

Harley appeared to have to blink away her runaway thoughts of a fake but real antique business in order to switch gears. "Oh! With the gift card, yes!"

She patted one of her pockets demonstratively, to show it was safe and sound in there.

[pocketpretzels]

Hey, at least the segue was... sort of there?

(And he'd not be opposed to circling back to that thought at some point, there was just something specific he'd come here to do, after all.)

"Excellent," he said. "I've something for you as well, actually." He pulled a loaf of sourdough bread carefully wrapped in plastic wrap from his tote bag. "In case you felt like making your own sandwiches."

[totalwildcard]

"Is that bread?"

Absolutely nothing got past her.

[pocketpretzels]

Perhaps she ought to be a detective!

"It is. Yes. Sourdough. In case- if you wanted to make your own sandwiches."

[ooc: wtf, thanks, dw, for not posting this hours ago.]

[hasaknightjob]

Steven did not have work on Fridays so he actually popped by earlier in the day to see if Harley might be working.

"Hello!" he said when he came into the shop. He looked around to see how things were going.

[totalwildcard]

Harley was not working, by most standard definitions of the word. But she was making up her own definition, and that involved keeping to her post (and chair) right outside the store door.

She wouldn't actually go in if she was you, Steven. The air was pretty dusty in there currently, with all those people moving things around.

"Hiya, Steven!" she called, though not without a second's hesitation right after. "I'm pretty sure that's who you are!"

[hasaknightjob]

Steven did a double take when he realized where she was. His own fault for being too focused on the store itself. "Oh! Yes! Hello! Yes, it is Steven. Accent's usually a dead giveaway if you wonder."

And the rumpled clothes. And the inwardly drawn posture of someone who tried not to take up too much space in the world. Also smiling, which was probably even more of a giveaway that it wasn't Marc than anything else.

Case in point, Steven was now smiling at her. "Er - so yes! New shop I'm told! Congratulations in order there, I think."

[totalwildcard]

Harley had all of those identifying factors summed up in her noggin as 'cute like a puppy dog'. And that metric had just passed its first test!

"Yes!" she confirmed, sitting up in her chair a little more. "Congratulate away! I think we might actually open the place next week, you know, like for customers and everything."

She had not actually planned anything that far ahead. But it sounded good, didn't it?

[hasaknightjob]

Harley wasn't inaccurate as far as that went. Newborn kitten would have also worked.

"Next week? That's exciting!" Steven said. Then his face fell. "Oh no! We'll be out of town then. We'd absolutely come by to support if not for that."

[totalwildcard]

Harley waved that away with her free hand. "Please, the whole point is that it'll be open from then on, so you can just come by whenever."

[hasaknightjob]

"We'll be there in spirit," Steven said. Then, because it was Fandom. "Er - not literally. Though I suppose the timing works out even better then. Here - "

Steven patted himself down, reaching into his various coat pockets until he found an envelope. He held it out to her. "Here. A sort of welcome to the neighborhood and congratulations on your shop gift."

If she took the envelope and opened it she would find a handwavily acquired with permission gift certificate to Luke's diner inside.

[totalwildcard]

The look of curiosity on Harley's face turned slowly into something more wobbly, as she reached out for the envelope while he was talking.

"A gift? For me?"

[hasaknightjob]

"From me and Llewellyn and Marc," Steven said.

Marc had had nothing to do with it. Unless you counted "What? Oh for - whatever." as having input when Steven mentioned it to him.

"To welcome you as our neighbor," Steven said. "And celebrate your new shop, you see. I - I hope that's all right?"

[totalwildcard]

"Yes," Harley said, and now the envelope was getting clutched to her faux fur covered chest like there was a chance he might otherwise take it back. "This is the nicest thing, I don't even know what to say."

No, she had not even opened the envelope.

[hasaknightjob]

"Oh? Well that's wonderful," Steven said, now relieved he hadn't somehow offended her. "That it's all right, I mean. I hope you like it. We all do."

Steven had no problem shamelessly including Marc in things regardless of Marc's opinion on the matter. Llewellyn was definitely part of it though.

[totalwildcard]

As with many things, Marc could just deal with it.

"I will cherish it," Harley promised solemnly. And then finally looked at the envelope. "...What is it?"

Opening it would probably have solved that mystery.

[hasaknightjob]

"Gift certificate to Luke's diner," Steven said, figuring if she was asking she wanted to be told. "They promised me that it was enough to get several of their egg sandwiches."

[totalwildcard]

The wobble was back, just a little. "Several?"

[hasaknightjob]

"You mentioned you liked them," Steven explained. "So I - we - thought this way you could treat yourself whenever you wanted."

Harley could be forgiven for not noticing the Steven will remember that when she'd discussed a food preference because, of course, she was not the Telltale version of herself much though her costume was also awesome.