ArchivedLogs:In Plain Sight

In Plain Sight
Dramatis Personae Shane, Tobias
In Absentia	2013-10-22 '
Location <NYC> Spin - Harlem
Half record store, half music shop, Spin is a music lovers' haven. The record side of the store holds everything from vintage vinyl to the newest releases, both new and secondhand, with miscellaneous paraphernalia -- posters, t-shirts, pins -- held in bins along one wall. On the other side of the store, dedicated musicians can find a wealth of sheet music, from modern rock guitar tabs to classical violin and piano pieces. Behind the counter, higher priced rare items are secured away behind the glass. In a departure from the usual bent of this type of store, the shelves are kept meticulously organized. It's busier in this store now that the workday is over than it had been previously, but even that hasn't brought it to the level of 'crowded'. A cluster of teenagers group together by the records, browsing through the albums; an elderly man with a young girl who might be his granddaughter is looking slowly through the offerings of beginner piano music; there's a young man at the counter chatting animatedly with the woman working the cash register. The two browsing the sheet music are keeping their /distance/ from the section of violin music nearby, the older man standing kind of /protectively/ between those shelves and his young companion. The reason for this is likely found in the diminutive boy looking through the violin music. Tiny and neatly dressed -- houndstooth vest over dress shirt, bow tie, dark slacks -- nothing in his dress or negligible stature is particularly noteworthy, but his very blue skin, solid-black eyes, uncanny-valley not-quite-human features, webbed fingers tipped in sharp claws -- /these/ things have drawn him a few extra stares. A few extra /glares/. And an exceedingly /large/ bubble of personal space that the other wary shopgoers seem hesitant to cross into. At the moment, though, Shane seems largely uninterested in biting anyone. He's mostly focused on looking through a book of Mendelssohn pieces, lips pursed in thought. Tobias walks into Spin, the hood of his black sweater drawn over his head. As he glances about, his eyes appear a little glazed over and slightly sluggish. Seeming a bit unsure of what he is exactly doing, he makes his way over to the record side of the store. He flips through some CDs, but looks positively disinterested in everything he sees. As he looks through the new music, one of the teenagers seems to recognize his face, as he quickly alerts the group of Tobias's presence. They quickly crowd around him, snatching up a number of copies of the latest "God Set Me Free" album, which Tobias proceeds to begrudgingly sign, all the while looking for an escape route, which he finds almost immediately. He fakes a smile and waves them off, heading over to stand next to what he can only describe to be a Shark Boy. Letting out a sigh of relief as he is unfollowed, he lets up his guard slightly -- only to realize he is now actually standing next to said mutant. Not entirely affluent socially, he simply mutters "Bleh, I prefer Chopin by far." There's a small ripple of tension that shivers up Shane's spine as someone actually approaches; if he /had/ fur, his hackles would probably be raising. As it is, just a hard clench of lean muscles, a slow turn of his head so that his dark eyes can take stock of this newcomer. His nostrils flare in one quick sniff, his finger tap-tap-tapping against the spine of his booklet. He shifts his attention briefly from Tobias to the distant teenagers, then back to Tobias. "S'a good thing buying one book of sheet music doesn't stick me with /only/ that music for life, then. Got plenty of Chopin at home. Can't live on a /constant/ diet of nothing but steak." Though here his teeth flash in a smile, thin and bright and rather more full of extremely sharp sharklike teeth than most people's smiles. "... Most people can't, anyway." He taps the booklet against one shelf of violin music. "You play?" Tobias shakes his head, "I suppose I play a string instrument, but the violin, no I do not. As far as your previous comment, I stand for my music and am proud of it, I simply loathe the attention. Especially given my.. condition." Shrugging, he glances down and gestures at the other's clawed fingers. "I suppose you don't play either?" Tobias offers a quick wink and whispers, "Name's Tobias, but to the likes of us I go by Photon." He places a finger over his lips in a "Shh.."ing motion. "Some of us actually have the luxury of being able to hide in plain sight." "What do you play, then?" Shane's hairless ridged brow furrows faintly at Tobias's mention of his condition. "Condition," he echoes. "S'that like overshare? Spill secrets to fucking strangers over --" The booklet rustles in his hand. "Mendelssohn? I /play/," he corrects Tobias's assumption a little tersely, the sharp black tips of claws at his fingers slowly creeping out to grow just a little longer, "pretty excellently, just because I'm a freak doesn't mean I've got no talent." He tucks the music beneath an arm, only now actually turning to /face/ Tobias head on. His eyebrows are still raised, his hand dropping against the shelf to click-click-click his claws in rapid tapping against it. "Likes of us. Right. Must be nice to be you. That's a luxury I've never had." His voice has, at least, dropped lower out of respect for Tobias's privacy, even if his gruff tone is still none too /welcoming/. "Photon. People actually call you that cheesy-ass name?" Tobias offers a cheeky grin. "Some of us are just desperate for human contact and someone to confide in." He wrinkles his nose. "Or.. maybe I'm just sure that no one really talks to you. Or perhaps a mixture of both?" He laughs playfully, but that is interrupted as he cringes slightly and grabs his forehead, and there seems to be one very slight, but definitely unnatural and out of place flicker in the light around him. "Shit.. hold on a second." Closing his eyes, he breathes in deeply almost as if he was meditating, but then makes sudden haste to the back of the store and restroom, slamming the door behind him. He emerges a few minutes later with a peaceful and content smile on his face, and heads over to his previous spot as if nothing had happened. "Sorry about that. Had to use the restroom. Right, where were we? I sing and play the guitar and piano." He points to the other's claws and sniffs his nose a little. "How do you get around those, then? Do they make custom tips?" "You always /glow/ when you gotta piss, that's got to be annoying." While Tobias was out, Shane has added another booklet to his collection, looking now at a sheaf of Wieniawski. "You make a lot of fucking assumptions, dude. I'm a freak so I can't play /and/ I have no friends? Jesus fucking Christ. Thankfully," his words are terse and clipped, "I know plenty of people who aren't gigantic assclowns who jump to douchey conclusions based on how I look." Shane turns to lean back against the shelves of music, eyes drifting up over Tobias. "If you're this charming with everyone, though, I wouldn't be surprised if you /were/ desperate for someone to confide in. Here's a tip, though, try not to insult people if you're looking for conversation." "Piss.. Piss. Yeah, I guess so." He scratches his head and stares at the floor, looking lost and spaced out. After a while his eyes shoot back up at the other, as if he finally remembered what he was doing. "You know, I simply meant because of your fucking claws, not because you are what you are. I didn't even say freak -- that was all you. I simply thought it would be difficult to play, physically, not because of assumed ineptitude." Tobias lets out a sigh before continuing. "Although I suppose I could have left the jokes out of it. Sorry." Tobias simply shrugs and moves a few feet away to the piano pieces, flipping through them casually. "And you were sure that nobody really talks to me because -- what. You don't need to say freak, dude, everything else you're saying says it /for/ you." Shane's claws withdraw, shrinking back down to just tiny sharp black tips at the end of his fingers. After a moment he gives a sigh -- kind of an exasperated huff of breath. "You need something? Sugar? Sunlight? You look like shit." Tobias giggles. "Make-up and a drink, maybe." Truth be told, Tobias couldn't remember the last time he ate a full meal or had a good night's sleep, he realized. He looked up at Shane, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know, man." He decided to quickly change the subject to something else. "So what's your deal, besides the violin? What's your name?" "No, I'm serious. My pa -- does this light thing, too. He gets flashy, explodes, that kinda energy pretty much saps most of the glucose in him. You need something? Cuz I like this store and if you're gonna laser it to pieces or some shit I'd rather that not -- happen." Shane tucks the Wieniawski booklet under his arm with the others, his arms folding across his chest. "You always this nosy? Sorry, dude, guys usually have to buy me a couple drinks at least before they get my life story." "Need something? Nosy?" Tobias flashes a grin, and a small baggie out of his sweatshirt pocket. "Why yes, I'm sedated and fine so you don't have to worry about this lovely store of yours." He laughs nervously, trying to ignore the actual seriousness of the matter that seems to be closing in on him every day. "I know how to deal with.. it.. just not as well as I'd like to. So /this/ has always been the plan." He frowns. "Aaaaand I've said too much. Can't close my damned mouth. Frontman syndrome. Should have seen me self-destruct, my band and myself. The tabloids loved it. Something sick about how the public loves shit like that." His train of thought seemed to be lost and he was rambling, waving his arms about in gestures as he spoke. "Jesus. Great. Fucking junkie," Shane mutters, rubbing a hand against his cheek. "Deal with it by drugging yourself, sounds like that's working well for you." His arm curls back around his chest, hugging his chosen sheet music against his crisp vest. "I've never been up on pop culture, I wouldn't know much about what the public loves." Though there's a harder edge to his voice at this. "And I think I missed out on the gene where you get off on watching other people fuck themselves up. I hear that's good solid entertainment for some people, though. You want to calm your flailing? I get enough people staring as-is." Tobias lowers his arms to his sides, looking at Shane in a moment of seriousness. "I don't prefer the alternative, neither would anyone else. I could care a lot less about what you, or others, think about me. The judgement has lost it's effect on me long ago." He sighs lightly, looking back at the books. "It's mostly just for when I go out. At home I can put a lot more practice and concentration toward /it/, and I manage. I'm not going to say that I don't have my issues, obviously I do. I'm just trying to hang on.. In the end, aren't we all? I'm sure that past that tough exterior of yours, there's something eating at you. Everyone has something, whether they admit to it or not. A little demon eating away at their insides. I'm just throwing chunks of meat at mine until I know how to deal with the situation." He lets out a small whistle, as if he was letting off some steam. "Now how about your name, before I start calling you Shark Boy?" Giggling, he continued, "I'm just kidding, please don't tear me to pieces. I swear I'm an alright person." "I give no fucks about what drugs you want to put in your body rather than actually get control of yourself, dude. But listening to your bullshit armchair psychologist routine is getting pretty fucking old. Yeah. Sure. You pegged me good. Hard shell, tortured soul, nobody to open up to, I've just been dying to spill my guts to some stranger in a record store." Shane narrows his eyes at Tobias. "Shark Boy does me just fine. Good luck with your -- situation." He hugs his music more tightly to his chest, not actually saying a goodbye as he turns from the music to stomp his way off towards the cashier. Tobias grins and waves to Shane as he walks away, "Au Revoir, Shark Boy! Until we meet again!" Not wanting to leave without buying anything, but not having found anything that he actually wanted to buy, he simply tosses a 20 onto the counter as he walks past, throwing a peace sign behind his back as he walks out the door. "I need a smoke."