ArchivedLogs:Assless Chaps and Muumuus

Assless Chaps and Muumuus
Dramatis Personae Hive, Melinda, Neena	2013-10-12 '
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. Saturday, early afternoon is perhaps not the best time to be swimming through the dollar a pound section of the store, looking for a quantity of clothing for people one doesn't know the size of, it's the best place to go - and the time, well, sometimes Saturday is just the best time. Melinda is dressed for the lovely crisp weather in black slacks and a white top, with a large knit cardigan over the top in mocha brown. The woman even smells of coffee, due partially to the extra large cup of coffee in her left hand. She and her companion move past the more organized section to where the store has simply left piles of clothing on the floor for perusal by the cliental. She exhales and takes a sip to drain half of her cup before leaning against a pillar and beginning to scrutinize the stacks, trying to decide where to start. "So, in the end, baggy is probably useful, get as many belts and waist ties to keep the pants up, but really, we're expecting most of them to be thin?" Hive looks a lot less professional than Mel. Tatty old denim jacket, brown t-shirt with a pair of hedgehogs staring at another hedgehog (who has tipped a can of blue paint over himself), faded threadbare bluejeans, sneakers held together with duct tape. "They feed them just fine. We're not expecting anything." He kicks at a pile of clothing as if this will unearth ANSWERS for him. "I guess we can just grab whatever. Someone's bound to want /something/ right?" His hands are shoved into his pockets, eyes somewhat unfocused, not really looking at clothes so much as at the far wall. Black on black, Neena wears a leather coat, jeans, boots and a t-shirt beneath her coat. Her entire outfit looks a bit dated, the jeans faded, the jacket scuffed up. Having recently returned to the States for an extended stay, she's decided she could use a new wardrobe. New being a relative term here. One thing Neena isn't, is a fashionista. If it fits and won't get in the way of her movement, it works for her. She stands out a bit amongst the crowd, with her chalk-white colored skin and the black spot around her left eye and the ballcap on her head doesn't obscure a whole lot. With half a bag full of a few pounds of jeans and various other items, she moves from one pile to the other, pausing to let another customer finish as she lets her blue eyes scan the busy shop. Melinda pushes herself of the pillar and slips her free hand under Hive's elbow. "Okay. I'll keep that in mind and bounce back to an... average size." She moves her cup to hold it in his line of sight and wiggles it a little. "You want some coffee? You seem tired." She continues to offer him the cup as her attention drifts to the stacks and the people around them. Neena's coloration causes her to pause for just a moment, but she continues looking around as if paying her no mind. "We're not gonna cover all our bases, probably. Just get functional shit in average sizes, we'll come back if someone --" Hive shrugs, his head reorientating to sniff at the coffee. "You put any shit in that?" He sounds suspicious. His toe kicks at a pile of clothes again when Neena nears, toppling an oversized floral dress and a number of touristy t-shirts towards the newcomer's foot. Though he doesn't really seem to be /looking/ at Neena, the telepath's mental senses are /listening/, at least, a reflexive eavesdropping of surface-thoughts that registers the woman's presence more psionically than visually. "You seem," he tells the black-clad woman, "like a floral muumuu sort of person." Glancing down to the clothes now sprawled near her feet, Neena reaches down with one hand, scooping a portion of the pile up with one hand while a mild, half-hearted string of thoughts about annoying kids and how he better help straighten the mess filter through her mind. Despite the fact that she's not quite closed in on thirty just yet herself. At Hive's comment, a snort of amusement escapes her and she settles her gaze on him while straightening the pile, a small grin coming to her black-hued lips, "You caught me. I've got two of them in my bag. My turn now? You seem like the ass-less chaps type. Not sure they have any of those here, but..I wouldn't be surprised. And you wouldn't even have to worry about stains." She flicks a look from Hive to his companion, studying Melinda a brief instant before her attention turns back. "Eh. It's straight black. I've been having to cover for a manager who is being ridiculous the last few days, so all doubles. Coffee will replace my blood some time soon, and then, well, you'll have to ask Dusk what that is like." Melinda eyes Hive for a moment, watching him kick a muumuu over at a stranger - well, at least a stranger to her. She begins to wonder if Hive recognizes her. Her eyebrow darts upward as she turns to Neena at the assless chaps comment, mirth written on her features. "Aw, I think she nailed you. Just think of the stir you'll cause when you drop by Heaven next." "I don't want your fucking coffee," Hive decides, despite just implying he'd like it black. "And what the fuck have you looked at this place? The whole fucking thing is a gorram mess, it's /never/ straightened." Perhaps to accentuate this point he kicks at it again, though this time he leans down to claim a pair of t-shirts out of the pile. "All chaps are assless. It's the nature of chaps. Dusk tried to get me to go to Heaven last night. Took a giant bite out of Shane and was fucking revved." There's no discernible pause in his gruff tone from one topic to the next. "I'm pretty good at figuring people out," Neena remarks to Melinda, still grinning a bit as she listens to the pair. Laughing sharply, she tells Hive, "Right. Sorry, I guess you're the chaps expert here, aren't you? Thanks for clearing that up." The black-haired woman studies Hive, a brow arching at the 'took a bit out of' remark as that lodges in her head. Having heard both of them mention it, she inquires, "So, what's Heaven? New club all the kids are hanging out at or something?" "Heaven's been around for a number of years. A friend works there, so he enjoys the company of people he knows from time to time. Good place to dance." Melinda supplies, pulling her coffee in closer to herself as she turns to grab one of the mesh bags for the acquisition of future purposes. She pauses to finish off her coffee and discard it in a trash that the staff supplies. Then she's back and engaging the pile Hive keeps kicking? She chooses more colorful shirts that hopefully appear a little less stained than others, shaking them out one at a time to look them over. "So, what kind of clothes should I be looking for?" she asks of Neena. "Heaven's been around for a number of years. A friend works there, so he enjoys the company of people he knows from time to time. Good place to dance." Melinda supplies, pulling her coffee in closer to herself as she turns to grab one of the mesh bags for the acquisition of future purposes. She pauses to finish off her coffee and discard it in a trash that the staff supplies. Then she's back and engaging the pile Hive keeps kicking? She chooses more colorful shirts that hopefully appear a little less stained than others, shaking them out one at a time to look them over. "So, what kind of clothes should I be looking for?" she asks of Neena. "Good place to dance if you're queer. Or like shitty beer. Or shitty... karaoke. I don't know look for clothes. The kind you -- wear." Hive is so invested in this clothing thing, really. "You new here?" He asks Neena. "/Looking/ for places to dance? There are no good ones." "--What kind of clothes should you be looking for?" Neena repeats to Melinda curiously, eyeing her skeptically a moment before offering, "I don't have a clue. Who are you shopping for?" She chuckles dryly at the responses about the club, "Nah, sorry. Doesn't sound like my kind of place. I like them a little rougher. Just can't have a good time unless somebody sitting in the corner looks like they want to stab you. Not much for dancing either." "I see. Clothes I wear." Melinda shakes her head a little and continues sorting through t-shirts. << We should probably look for sweaters and sweat shirts too. Coats if they have them. It's going to get cold soon. >> She continues refolding the shirts and shoving them into her back before straightening up. "You should try Molly's in the Lower East Side then. There's just liquor so hard there, you can feel it eating up your stomach." Her hands shift to her lower back and she presses against it, frowning, the growing stiffness there causing some annoyance. Hive is treated to a few thoughts about female issues and how she should probably get a water after this to ward off dehydration no matter how bloated she feels. "Have I taken you there yet? It's near my place," she turns to glance over her shoulder at Hive, lifting her bag and handing it to him. "Here. Hold this." "Don't know who we're shopping for is the problem. Shopping for fucking charity. Think they need assless chaps?" Because Hive has found a pair, which he unearths to toss at Neena. "You have people wanting to stab you often?" << Fucking New Yorkers, can't ever tell who's dangerous and who just wishes they were. >> This comes to Melinda, far softer than Hive's usual whipcrack of voice, a sussurating echo of many-other-voices layered under his own. "You see any good winter stuff? And no I don't do bars why the hell would you have? You don't want to see me drunk." He takes the bag without protest, slinging it over his shoulder. Hand snapping up, Neena catches the chaps and promptly stuffs them into her bag, accompanied by a mental image of herself in a cowboy get up (with actual pants under the chaps), "Never know when these might come in handy." She clicks her tongue as she pieces together their comments about who they're shopping for, "Oh, donating it? I don't know. Just get some jeans, shirts and jackets. Definitely jackets, since winter is coming. Get a bunch of different sizes. And some belts." At Hive's question about people wanting to stab her, she laughs, a brief image of a fight in some dingy German bar a few weeks ago that ended with a fellow having a broken arm flashes through her head while she answers, "Just sometimes. It's the guns you have to watch out for, really. Tend to make people feel ballsy." At Melinda's suggestion of a place, she ticks her head in a nod, "Molly's, huh? I'll keep it in mind, thanks." << Nah, newcomer. Probably a big fish where ever little pond she comes from, now going to face the ocean of 'no one cares' New York. >> Melinda sighs, a hint of sadness for the woman in her nonNew Yorker heart. "Thanks," she smiles at Neena. "I'm probably going to try to find some sweatpants too, as they are less annoying when they don't quite fit. Denim can be awkward, tight or baggy." She grabs another bag and starts digging at anything that seems sweat material. << Pfft. Nobody cares anywhere. Some places they're just more honest about it. >> Hive's teeth bare, a thin line that might be a smile but lacks much humour. "Guns make people stupid. I guess it's about the same thing as ballsy, though. Molly's is a shitty place, don't fucking cops hang out there? Go to Down Under in Morningside, I got in a bar fight last time I was there." He outright snorts at 'winter is coming', though. "You looked around this city lately? Winter's fucking /here/." "Sweatpants are good, too. Completely and utterly unflattering, but they always fit," Neena chuckles in response to Melinda. "Cop bar? Might have to scratch that one off if so, yeah," the chalk-skinned woman smirks a little before nodding, "Yeah, yeah, but it's not quite to 'you're gonna die if you walk outside with a coat' levels. Think there's a month or two left before that, isn't there? Passed through once or twice before, never long enough to stick around and enjoy the seasons." Looking to the clothes briefly, she reaches down to snag a black shirt with a pink yin-yang symbol stitched upon the front. "Stupid, ballsy, pretty much the same, yep. Think they're the big dog." "I have never seen cops there," Melinda counters, but her heart's not in it. She's too busy debating her annoyance with Victoria's Secret and their Pink line and the fact that the pair she happens to be holding is the cleanest pair she's seen. In the end, she stuffs them in her bag. The next thing she tugs out is a hoodie for the Boston Red Sox. "Oh, this might get someone killed..." She turns it toward Hive so he can see, then tosses it toward Neena. "You like fights? You'll love this." "Think it's also the bar that douchebag assclown who assaulted Shane works at." Not that that description really narrows it down. Hive pulls out his wallet, taking out some bills to shove them at Melinda. "I think I hit my shopping quota. I'm gonna find us some food." No more goodbye, just shoves his hands in his pockets to slouch off. Catching the hoodie, Neena laughs, "Cute. I imagine that'd probably get me shot pretty quickly here, wouldn't it? People take their baseball seriously in these parts I've heard." Regardless, she tucks the sweatshirt away before glancing after the departing young man. Looking back to Melinda, she smiles, "Awful nice of you two to be buying clothes for people. Who you donating them to?" "I actually work for a homeless shelter in Chelsea. We generally do get good clothing donations, but sometimes, the staff has to come to places like this and supplement." Melinda continues hunting, fishing out a belt now, eyeing it for structural damage. << I could really go for burgers, but if you have something else in mind, that's fine. >> she shoves the thought in Hive's direction as he leaves, not caring much that he doesn't reply. "And I don't think you'd get shot flat out for wearing a shirt like that. In this town, people prefer hands on physical violence with their sports." "Oh, do you? Don't meet folks who work to help others that much too often," Neena responds to the other woman's answer about working at the shelter. "And hah, thanks for the reassuring comment. I'll wear it proudly, then. Why, I think the Red Sox are going to the World Series this year, aren't they?" She really has no idea of what's going on with baseball or the hunt for October, so that could quite easily be completely off base. "I just returned to the States, was doing some work overseas. Figured I'd give New York a try. Lots of folks, room for everybody to fit in somewhere, I figure, right? Need some new clothes, too," the mutant woman offers, hand lifting to gesture around the shop with that last comment. "Maybe. I tend not to pay that much attention to the sport. Or to sports at all, except you know, to steer clear of Yankee Stadium when there's a game." Melinda frowns as her bag gets full, exhaling at she moves on to the stack of denim with a third shopping bag. "Oh, probably not today. I'm going to have enough to carry with this load. I'll probably end up with four bags in all. Sorry I can't volunteer to be your shopping buddy."