Logs:Girls' Day Out

Girls' Day Out
Dramatis Personae Astrid, Naomi
In Absentia	2020-12-15 “Least in here they ain’t going to send a robot after me, right?" (immediately after a bathroom conversation.)
Location out and about in Salem Center
<NYC> Rolling Thunder - Salem Center A shiny new face on Salem's outskirts, this roller rink's polished look might bring to mind more lightning than thunder. Its low-slung ceiling is illuminated by an outline of thin neon lights that change colors at regular intervals, reflecting off the high-lustre floor. With sweeping asymmetrical curves in its glossy-glassy decorations and the lights gleaming off of the multitude of shiny surfaces, this rink has shied away from the retro aesthetic that so many aspire to. Still, there are four wheels on every skate and a very well-appointed pro shop near the entryway, with a snack bar in the back and lessons offered during non-peak hours. Perhaps it doesn’t matter why kids play hooky, as the end result of ditching school is the same. Somehow coming back through a rift from an upside down parallel universe made the stakes seem higher, so when Astrid was able to convince her fellow cohort to split campus with her, the day had to be well planned. So where to start? The new roller skating rink at the edge of town seemed like a good bet. Perhaps a little more research should have gone into this, but at least it isn’t very busy. “Shit.” Astrid mutters, barely holding her balance as she makes her way towards the rink after lacing up the skates she just rented from the pro-shop. “Sorry…” She looks towards Naomi a washed in frustration. “I didn’t realize this place only rented the old school skates.” Again she stumbles, arms held out to keep her balance. “I swear if these were rollerblades, ice skates or *a* skateboard, I’d be much better.” Naomi, meanwhile, is gripping onto the edge of the bench, eyes wide as she stares down at her feet in their weird new shoes. Pushes up experimentally but doesn’t quite get to standing, arms spread to keep her balance in her odd little crouch. “I ain’t tried none of those,” she says, looking straight at the ground. One foot forward. She wobbles. “How the *hell* you move in these?” “Very carefully.” Astrid says, daring not to look back at Naomi given her already precarious balance. Finally she passes through the threshold from the sitting area carpet onto the slick floor beneath the slowly changing neon lights, and to make sure she remains upright, grabs hold onto the low wall. “Oh, and make sure not to fall. Then you’ll have it down.” Her grin is wide and toothy as she feels confident enough to turn around now that she has the wall for support. “And if we make it out of here in one piece, I’ll teach you how to skateboard. It’s *way* easier.” --- <NYC> Sinkers and Suds - Salem Center This diner, though very new, has modeled itself in the throwback style of Salem Center's main drag. Black and white checkerboard floor underfoot, steel stools cheerfully upholstered in bright red vinyl, brushed chrome tables both standalone or in the booths that line the walls. The servers are impossibly perky, the jukebox only plays oldies, and the seats at the long counter also often include conversation with the very chatty soda jerk manning the fountain there. The smells of fried food and fresh coffee generally fill the air. Naomi’s knees are bruised underneath her jeans now from the copious amounts of falling at the roller rink, and she seems grateful to sink into the vinyl of the booth seat across from Astrid. The server has helpfully dropped off a carafe of coffee and two mugs for the girls, which Naomi is eyeing with some suspicion. Her hands are cold though, and she pours herself and Astrid each a cup just so she can wrap her hands around it. At least Naomi’s got warm clothes now - she’s still wearing some of her other-world adventure layers. It’s a moment before she brings the hot liquid (black, no sugar or cream added, like she hadn’t noticed the bowl of creamer and sugar on the end of the table) to her lips. A small sip - immediately Naomi’s face twists up. “Maaan, y’all drink this shit?” Astrid watches with glee as the piping hot coffee is poured into a mug and then slid across the table in her direction. She grabs it by the handle, pausing to fully appreciate the steam as it twirls up from the surface before quickly disappearing into the air. She mouths a thanks before her first sip is taken. “I am from the Pacific Northwest after all.” Another sip. “We are known for this shit.” She immediately stops after speaking those words, no longer sure where exactly her home town stands in the national coffee zeitgeist anymore. “Or was?” “Oh, like Starbucks, kinda thing?” Naomi’s cultural awareness of the Pacific Northwest is failing her. She blows on the surface of the mug, like if the liquid is cooler its going to taste better. Another experimental sip - it does not taste better. Now her eyes light on the sugar. A second later she is emptying packet after packet into the mug. “Yo, you should tell your folks to send you some. Post-jailbreak care package. Especially if y’alls taste better than this.” “Yeah, something like that.” Astrid says with a laugh making no move to add any sort of commentary on Starbucks. Then she watches warily as Naomi starts dumping in packets of sugar, her right eye half closed and squinting through smudged lenses. “Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea.” Her lips part into a soft smile that is quickly wiped clean by the next sip. Still gripping the mug, she holds it about a foot out, giving it a full inspection. “I’ll get you some if my ‘rentals follow through.” The mug is set back down as she gives the place a quick once-over, making sure none of the workers are within earshot. “To be honest, the coffee here isn’t very good.” Naomi’s snort is loud and derisive - she slaps a hand over her mouth to contain it but a server is already glancing their way, eyes trained on Naomi’s face specifically. She ignores it, instead pushing the laminated menu Astrid’s way. “Better than camp food or prison coffee, I bet.” Her finger taps at an item - “But I know for sure that the tater tots here rule.” --- <NYC> ABCDs - Salem Center An eclectic mix of music posters line the walls of this relatively small music store. Rectangular in shape, the counter sits immediately to the left of the entrance with a vast rotation of workers that always seem to have that same judgmental look. Stretching out from the counter is rows upon rows of records and CDs organized by genre. The first row facing the front window contains employee picks of the month, showcasing their superior taste in music along with an esoteric description of each selected album. At the very back wall are a couple shelves devoted to DVDs and books. The entire store smells of dust and decaying cardboard. Astrid would probably fit in at the record store a little bit better if when they went through the rift it sent them back ten years earlier. Or maybe if the record store was located in New York City. With her black beanie, black skinny jeans and buffalo plaid flannel, she looks like what someone would find if they googled hipster record collector. It doesn’t help that the college age cashier gives her a sneer when they first walk through the doors, his eyes falling to the dull blue and maroon bowling shoes she’s been exclusively wearing ever since they got back. “Oh, let’s check out the new arrivals in the used section.” She darts through the various wooden shelves aisles, weaving around until she finds the exact spot. She’s a little too focused, unaware of the customers who stop digging through the records in front of them to gawk specifically at one of the two new arrivals. “Maybe we can find something with a badass female drummer for you.” Naomi’s fingers curl around the hood of her hoodie, tucked underneath her shell jacket. Astrid might not have noticed the stares yet, but Naomi certainly has. Her hands pull up, like she’s going to use the hoodie to cover her scales, then release their grip. Still, she’s more tense than she has been all day. “You know some stuff with girl drummers?” This, at least, is hopeful. “I can’t wait to get back to practice I was making so much progress I’m thinking about trying out for Jazz Band next year.” Her tone is bright and her words rushed, but her inflection is different - less natural. Fewer dropped consonants. “Do I?” Astrid’s tone is overly enthusiastic, head down as she deftly moves her fingers along the top of each record, holding each one long enough to scan the cover before flipping it forward and moving on to the next. “You got Sheila E… a *classic*.” She continues to spout off absentmindedly while flipping through the records. “Sara Lund and Janet Weiss, both of the Pacific North...” Suddenly her words trail off as she catches sudden change in Naomi’s tone and pattern. “Hey, you alright?” She asks while pulling her head up from the dusty records to look at the other teen. She still hasn’t noticed the other patrons stares. Naomi doesn’t catch Astrid’s eyes right away - her’s are scanning the other customers, biting her lip when she notices some *employees* raising her eyebrows at her. Her hands get shoved into her jacket pockets when she glances back. “Janet Who?” She shakes her head. “Nah, it’s -” She shrugs. “Just don’t wander too far from me?” “Weiss…” The word slowly spills from Astrid’s lips as her own gaze slowly starts tracing the sightlines of Naomi’s. She takes a step closer to her, eyes slowly moving from the customers to the employees as the records are almost split exactly down the middle with half leaning forward and the rest back. “Yeah…” She looks back to the other girl, tugging down at the front edge of her beanie. “She used to play in the band Sleater-Kinney. Got their stuff on my phone if you want to hear?” She eyes the front door, which is at the opposite end of the store. “What do you say?” Naomi catches Astrid looking where she was, and her cheeks darken with embarrassment, really. “Ion- I don’t want to rush you outta here. It’s okay, really.” At the cash register, the college kid doesn’t seem to be at all embarrassed to be caught in the middle of profiling. “Happens all the time.” She cracks a half smile. “Least in here they ain’t- aren’t going to send a robot after me, right?” Naomi looks back at Astrid - “I would like to hear, yeah - if you like ‘em I bet they’re good.” “Naw, you’re not rushing me.” Astrid looks back at Naomi with a soft smile splitting her lips. Her whole demeanor briefly softens, as if she is suddenly void of all energy, but it is fleeting. “Besides, this place really SUCKS.” She shoots daggers at the kid behind the counter who her smile twists down into a scowl. “There’s way better record shops nearby, I am sure of it.” Her smile returns as she turns back to face Naomi. “Killer robots or not…” her voice lowers. “Let me know if you want me to come back later and blow this whole place up.”