ArchivedLogs:Fashionplate

Fashionplate
Dramatis Personae Eric, Shelby, Tatters
In Absentia	2013-03-25 Clooooooooothes!
Location <NYC> Clothescycle - Garment District
Selling clothing both new and used -- but mostly used -- this store often has something for those fashion-conscious but on a budget. There is a distinct alternative bent to many of the clothes (and many of the dyed-haired, pierced clientele that often show up) but for those willing to take the time to look through their racks and racks of clothing, there are gems to be found both in their newer and vintage sections. In their basement, for the adventurous, their dollar-a-pound section offers just what the name suggests: they sell clothing for a dollar per pound. The pickings are often unusual, to be sure, but for those handy with needle and thread, sometimes the heaps of fabric can be turned to creative use. Monday evening is, apparently, shopping time. Dressed in a loose fitting black tee and a pair of blue jeans, Eric is humming to himself as he listens to whatever music is on his headphones. Head bouncing slightly, he is perusing the racks, for the moment, carefully studying a leather jacket. He frowns somewhat and hangs it back up on the rack, eyes flashing with regret. SO MUCH CLOTHES RELATED SADNESS. He pulls out his cellphone and switches the song before slipping it back in his pocket to continue ROCKING OUT -- or browsing through the racks. On the list of things NEVER TO DO is running at a cop who can't hear you coming. That Shelby never received this list explains a lot about her life. She came in at some point and spotted Eric and now she is charging down the aisle at him to jump on his back. The girl's in tattered jeans, her Marilyn tee knotted at her belly, and a newish pair of boots. The ever-present backpack is along for the ride too, adding to the weight being heaved at the unfortunate officer. "Hey Princess!" Tatters starts and looks up from her browsing as someone /bolts/ past her, turning her head to blink at the charging teen and her unfortunate victim, both of whom look familiar-ish. She's wearing her 'nice' outfit, the one she uses for Evolve, which mostly means they don't smell like sewers -- jacket, t-shirt, jeans -- and is presently thumbing through an aisle full of slacks. Well, was, because now she's eyeing the pair with careful concern, ready to intervene if someone is getting shanked or something or to avert her attention if they're just having a Friendship Moment. Because who takes chances, nowadays? As the figure runs at Eric, he turns to get a glance at what is going on. It is, perhaps, this that saves Shelby from getting tossed to the floor after she leaps onto his back. One of his arms still grabs - probably somewhat painfully - at one of Shelby's, ready to use his weight to sling her onto the ground - definitely painfully. Still, his instincts are overridden by the slow poking of recognition one part of his brain makes to the other, and he, slowly, lets go of her wrist. His hang tugs one of the earbuds up and reaches down to catch Shelby's legs, holding her up on his back. "Heya, you. Fancy seein' you 'round here." he says, voice light and smile bright. "How've you been? Still tormentin' poor Sebastian?" "Oh man, your reflexes /suck/, I thought for sure you'd put me through a rack or something." And that's what Eric gets for not going with reflex and instinct--abuse. Shelby's grinning though, and content to wind her arms around his neck to keep her place and help support the mild strain of her weight. "He's /sooo/ easy to mess with, you don't even know. S'awesome though. I'm lookin' for a show outfit, whatcha...whatcha doing?" Up from this height, she has a much better view of the store. That pause in there occurred while doing a visual sweep of the premises and Tatters is spied. Fingers are twiddled her way as a sort of greeting and the look on Shelby's face equals 'Hmm, do I know that person, I think I do'. Shelby waves! Tatters frowns slightly and waves back and the mostly familiar face, then returns to her shopping, hands on her hips as she surveys the rack of /pants,/ brow knitted as she attempts to discern which of these are her size. Or remember what her size /is./ I guess her size can technically be anything she wants, but what would be useful? #metamorphproblems The back of her neck doesn't prickle at the attention because she accidentally turned her goosebumps off back in '11, but she remains conscious of the two Apparently Normal People an aisle away. But wandering up and accosting people isn't really what you do, when you're a gobliny looking mutant in a public place. "You just want to be roughed up because he won't do it." Eric says, with a false sob in his voice. "You don't really /care/! And hey, I /offered/." He snickers and adjusts his girl-backpack with a quick up and down mini-jump, glancing around the room. He spots Tatters, and his eyebrows furrow slightly as the gears in his head grind to spit out an identification, even as he replies, "You know. Looking around for clothes. Tryin' to find something that'll look good." He looks at the moving, then turns his head back slightly to peer into Shelby's face. "Friend of yours?" he asks, looking back at Tatters somewhat curiously before he returns to the delectable coats. "So did /I/," Shelby retorts. "I mean, not the roughing you up thing, I hear that doesn't work so well, but...y'know. Should've taken your chance when you had it!" She says that a lot and is oblivious to whether or not she is insulting her personal code of honor. Partly because Shelby. Partly because she remains distracted by Tatters. "You look good in everything," she says, still distracted--before it clicks! Ah ha! Eric's hair is mussed and she points him towards the next aisle. "Forward, Musclepony! She totally saved my friend's ass, I wanna say hi. Hey!" Tatters sighs and tunes the pair's conversation out, then belatedly perks up again when her direction is shouted at, leaning bac with her hands in her pockets and raising her eyebrows at the CAVALRY. "Oh, hey! W--" No Tatters you /can't/ address someone as 'What's-Your-Face' "--hat's up?" "You'll give me another chance, I'm sure of it." Eric says, bright and confident. When he is ordered to charge, he gives Shelby a bemused look and then bounces forward, making an odd two-step jerking walk forwards. "Clop-clop," he says. "Clop-clop." It does, in fact, not sound anything like a pony. "Heya." he says, then looks chagrined. Since when do steads speak? Then he glances at a jacket beside him and his eyes widen, pulling it off the shelf with one hand as the other holds Shelby securely in place. Jaaacket. Shelby hangs over Eric's shoulder and gives Tatters her very best grin as they approach. /Someone's/ in a good mood--maybe because every girl grows up dreaming of owning a pony of their very own. "Hey!" she repeats. "We're shopping." As if Eric didn't just prove that by going all grabby at a garment! "I remember you. Not just from the other day, but, uh. When you were looking for your whackin' stick, remember? I ran off when that dude showed up? You looking for clothes too?" It is a veritable stream of words and when she's finished, she adds /some more/. "This is Eric but you can call him Musclepony." "Oh! Hey yeah, you were, uh, faced." Tatters pulls a hand across her face demonstratively, because /scarfs./ "Uh." Shelby's noble steed gets a glance, and then she looks back up at the girl. "Does /he/ want me to call him 'Musclepony?'" The comments about shopping go unanswered, because duh. "Hm? Oh. Eric." The police officer slash transportation animal says, with a bright smile and a little wave. "You look familiar," he says, eyes sweeping over Tatter's face once, twice, as his eyebrows pull together curiously. "I dunno. Maybe it's just all in my head." he says, with a little wink. "Too many faces, you know?" he says, giving a little half-shrug and then flashing Shelby an apologetic look as she is rocked from side to side. "Sorry," he winces. "Shelby," the girl in question supplies as her own name, her smile set crookedly. Since introductions are going around. The rocking leads her to tense her arms for stability and wrinkle her nose when Eric glances back. "Good thing for you I don't get seasick. Hey...hey, uh..." Ohh, lookit there, she isn't certain of Tatters' name either. "You should pick out something nice, huh? My treat. I mean, not /my/ treat, someone gave me the money but it's the same thing, right? You want something too, Eric?" She hasn't yet gotten to the money management classes in school. "Hi. Uh, Eric, then." Tatters settles on -- wait did that guy just /wink/ at her? Who /does/ that? How do you politely respond to -- whatever, carrying on. She looks up at Shelby and smiles as politely as she can manage, because while the sentiment is genuine her face sometimes takes a bit of finageling. "Oh, I'm Jill. And do--" wait yes of COURSE she looks broke. Shelby knows who she is! "Oh, yeah. I'd really appreciate it! But I'm still, like, looking around, I have no idea what I'm actually getting." "I'm good," Eric says, waving Shelby's offer off. "I don't want stolen goods." he says, mischievously. He looks over the back of the jacket and frowns at it, sighing a world-weary sigh as he puts it back on the shelf. "So close, yet so far away." He turns to the rack across the aisle, moving slightly, but keeping his body angled towards Tatters so that Shelby can continue talking and facing the correct direction. "I like this," he murmurs, as he pulls out a black and silver pinstriped vest and turns it back and forth in the light. "Yeah, me too," Shelby assures Tatters, "once the clothes horse here picks out what he wants, he's gonna help me figure out what to wear for my show." She's just decided this now but it is a Good Plan. And once Eric does find something he seems seriously interested in, she squirms to be set down. "That's pretty hot. You could pull it off with no shirt...what're you looking for?" The question is directed at Tatters, even if she is eyeing the cop as if he were...well. Three guesses. "Oh, neat. What kind of show?" Tatters asks politely and curiously, leaning back and trying to juggle the conversation with her own clothing /search./ Until she pauses and glances appraisingly back over her shoulder at Shelby's Fashion Advice. Did she just answer her own question? Are they /strippers?/ The girl looks a little young for that but she can picture the guy as a cop-o-gram for some reason. Also he's called 'musclepony.' And oh wait she was asked a question. "Uh, I just need something nice-ish? Because I kinda need, like, more than one set of actual clothes, 'cause these haven't gotten ruined /yet/ but it's only a matter of time, and then I wouldn't be able to, like, go places." Eric leans down to let Shelby slide off of his back onto the ground, then turns around and holds the vest over his chest, one hand gesturing underneath it like the male counterpart to Vanna White. Some gratuitous flexing might be involved - stripper indeed. "Of course. Or maybe one of my mesh shirts. A black one, I'd think." he says, pulling the vest on over his shirt and stretching his arms out, first to the front then to the sides. "Not bad at all." he says, as he takes it back off. "Playing at the Bowery with Ryan Black, you know him?" Shelby is still somewhat distracted with Eric's modeling right there--girl and their toys. But she's able to send a lightning quick glance, with grin, at Tatters. "So I need something that's gonna get people excited. Nice-ish is easier. Like maybe...uh..." A second glance is performed, with the other young woman scrutinized for the figure lurking beneath those simple clothes. No, wait. The teenager is stymied. "Button-up and khakis maybe?" she suggests lamely. "Yeah, I think my sister is a fan." Tatters pages through a couple of pants, suppressing a grin at the understatement. 'Recently Obsessed' might be a better word to describe Lily's relationship with the musician, though apparently Lily was the one person who was shocked and appalled by his recent drug arrest, and has since broken up with his Facebook group. Only time will heal the wound to Lily's poor broken teenaged heart. Tatters still hasn't had the heart to tell her that Ryan was on the raid with them and is a Violent Not-A-Terrorist. Because who knows what that'd do to her. Also oh right, other people. "Oh! Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Maybe a new jacket too, but it's getting warmer out so I dunno if I should bother...?" By the look of surprise on Eric's face, he knows who Ryan Black is. "No. You're fuckin' kidding me, yeah? I---" He stops speaking so quickly it might have very possibly given him whiplash. He claps his mouth shut and a frown twists his lips. Headshake. Headshake. He turns to glance at Tatters, up and down once with his eyes. "Yeah, I know who he is." Smooth as butter - no one noticed a thing! He scratches at his head for a moment, glancing over Tatters again. "I think a light jacket would be good. Something you can remove the lining from if it gets warmer, I mean. Or a lighter jacket and get a heavier one when the season turns." "Well, if you want my autograph so you can give it to her after the show, I can totally do that too." Shelby is so casual with this offer. Except...oh wait, she's forgotten something and that something is enough to cause her brow to rumple. It's enough to cause her to overlook the intensity of Eric's initial reaction. "Yeah, Ryan Black. I was supposed to open for him, but we're still working on it...shit, I need like...a /stage/ name." But there is business still to conduct and she turns back to Tatters, sizing her up once more. "He's right, yeah. Something like a windbreaker." "Yeah, something like that. Though I dunno if I'll have to worry about it lasting till /next/ winter." Tatters makes a face. She's been through so many hoodies, you guys, you don't even understand. And this is /supposed/ to be not-in-the-sewers-wear, but is anywhere really safe nowadays? "Um." She looks back at Sheldy, over her shoulder, catching the tail end of Eric's double-take and blinking at him before turning back to Shelby and shrugging. "Um. Do you /need/ a stage name? Is your usual name not, like, good enough?" "The Shelbstress." Eric cuts in, helpfully. "Shelbatron. The Shrelber." This last one makes even him wince, and he turns to face the clothing - whether it is for finding purposes or just to hide his shame. Fingers trail along clothing, carefully pushing each hanger back in turn to inspect the clothes with a little bit more room. "If lasting is an issue, I'd look for clothing meant for sailors. That stuff will last you forever, if you can find it. If sea-salt wind can't kill it, you won't be able to." "I kinda do. I, uh. I mean." But it is too much to even sum up. Shelby just shakes her head--then reaches out to give Eric a goose in retaliation for his suggestions. "Smartass," she points out with a grin. Then she's off to begin sliding through hangers one by one too. In search for what? She doesn't say, but she's moving briskly enough that the metal screeches together. "Do they /make/ sailors clothing anymore? That's like, so old timey." "I think you, uh, underestimate the wear I tend to put on clothing." Tatters sighs and gives Eric an amused glance. "If I wanted it to /last/ I'd need, like, a suit of armor. I'm willing to settle for, like, disposable. And, um." She wanders around the corner of the rack, calling out to Shelby as she does so. "I think so? I mean, people still use /boats,/ and I don't think he means, like, old timey sailor suits. Which I am /not/ wearing, for reasons which should be kinda obvious." Eric lets out a little squeaking yelp that is very high-pitched for his low voice. The police officer grins and winks at her, blowing Shelby a kiss as he continues to look, albeit with less alacrity. "Yeah, I mean, like, merchant marine gear. They put that stuff through a ton of work, and it's built to be able to be repaired pretty easily. I mean... to some definition of repair. But since it's meant to be far away from home base..." he trails off and gives a little bit of a shrug. "I still think that it's worth a shot. Ain't nothin' to look at, though, but it'd work as a jacket." Shelby shifts around to the other side of the rack, on the offchance that Eric feels like retaliating, himself. Her voice drifts over the line of hangers. "I think you'd be /adorable/ in a sailor suit." All right, so maybe she moved to keep Tatters from throwing something at her. "Or maybe one of those Army jackets? Same kinda thing, right? Ugly but it lasts. What do you think, guys? Should I go good girl gone bad, or Indie hottie?" "Oh yeah, that might definitely be worth it--dude, I fight /monsters/ those do not /mix/ well." Tatters smiles at Eric, then turns to FROWN at Shelby over the top of the rack. Then shrug, thoughtfully. "Um. Which can you, like, pull off?" "I don't think she can pull off good girl gone bad. That would require fakin' being good." Eric says, eyes twinkling. "What'd'ya think about doing bad girl gone worse? I think that's a better possibility." Eric says, smirking, as he steps back and takes the vest from before off of the rack. He holds it over one shoulder, peering over the shelves at Shelby. "I could fake good! I got the coloring for it. And no tats that you can /see/." A face is made at the first set of eyes that peer over at her. Unfortunately, this means that Shelby gives Tatters the gargoyle look. Oops. "I dunno if I want to go full on bad girl, that's kinda slutty. I don't have a badge to convince folks I have a good side." Touche? Not really, but she's still busily shrieking through hangers. A champagne tank-top covered in sequins ends up draped over one arm. "You guys've had like, a shit load of monsters lately, huh?" "I /think/ we've got 'em all for now, knock on friggen wood. But that was, like, three sweatshirts in two weeks. And I mean that's sewer-wear /anyways/ and this wouldn't be but I can't count on crap, like, not happening to it." Tatters sighs and leans back, then eyebrows at her choice of garment. "You going for /sparkly/ then?" "Yeah-huh. I've seen your tats." Eric waggles his eyebrows, looking back down at the clothing. As the conversation turns to sewers and monsters, though, he glances back and forth between Shelby and Tatters, and his eyebrows furrow. "I don't think I want to know." he says, dryly. "I'm gonna walk away before I'm an accomplice to all sorts of things. See ya' 'round, Shelby." He gives a polite nod and a warm smile to Tatters. "It was a pleasure t' meet you, Jill. Good luck with your clothing." He says, giving the both of them a little wave as he heads towards the counter. "All the lights up on stage? Hell yeah, sparkly. And maybe something short...see you, Eric! Come see me at the show! It's gonna be fucking amazing!" And the world needs more amazing, right? Shelby tilts sideways to watch the cop go then gestures Tatters towards the back. "They got some of the rougher stuff downstairs, c'mon. Bet someone's brought in an Army jacket."