Logs:Nothing Better to Do

Nothing Better to Do
Dramatis Personae Alastair, Skye	2023-07-11 "So, what's up?"
Location <NYC> East Village Thrift Shop - East Village
This neighborhood institution doesn't look like much from the outside. Arguably it doesn't look like much from the inside, either but it's packed with vintage clothing, accessories, furnishing, appliances, and even records. The sheer volume of stock seems impossible for such a modest storefront to contain, and lends it a sort of whimsical labyrinthine charm. The general consensus among avoid thrifters is that this place has a high treasure-to-trash ratio, for those with the patience and skill to find it. Skye is one such avid thrifter, and this sweltering afternoon finds her poking through the footwear section, squinting critically at the lace-up boots. She's wearing a cropped black t-shirt with the words "information wants to be free" in a gradient of bright colors across the chest, skimpy cutoff jean shorts, and an aging pair of black lace-up boots she's presumably here to replace. She carries a black canvas messenger bag slung with an airbrushed(?) design of a massive breaking wave, its barrel forming the circle of a stylized anarchy symbol and its foam dissolving into myriad colorful ones and zeroes that fill in the "A" inside the circle. She's humming Ryan Black's "See it Through" under her breath, occasionally breaking into lyrics here and there as it suits her. She picks up a pair of surplus combat boots, mouth pulling to one side, then sets them back down. The doors then swing open as a man walks in. A denim Sleeveless and Graphic Tee of a Large Dinosaur of some Variety adorn the young man's upper half, as his legs are covered by loosely fitting ripped jeans and a belt. His Feet wrapped in sports bandaging and stuck into some hefty crocs, he nods to the clerk and makes his way over to the records. His long, Blond hair seems to almost trail behind him as he walks, but almost everything else about him isn't nearly as impressive. He notices Skye humming, looking at shoes, which aren't too far from the small collection of records, cds, and other forms of media. He nods to her as a passive greeting then continues skimming through the Musical Collection. He moves his fingers past pop and basic rock before eyeing up some Grunge, Alt, and Metal records. He's never been a big fan of Pop, but there's some of it that's pretty good. Ryan Black for instance, who's got a lot of good songs about the struggles of living as a mutant. Skye picks up another pair of boots and gives them a considering moue. "Yeah no." Puts them down, too, and as she straightens up she notices what music Alistair is looking at and smiles. "He's pretty awesome, huh?" She wanders to the end of her row closest to where Alistair is perusing the music on offer. "My personal tastes usually run more towards power metal and EDM, but sometimes, Ryan Black just...speaks to me." "Yeah. Dude's pretty alright. Not a whole lot of popular Mutant Artists you'll hear on the Radio or even See on TV. Aside from that bitch Madeline Conway." He said, moving his fingers past another few records before picking up a Jimi Hendrix record that for some reason was dropped there. Probably scratched all to hell or, if he was lucky, given to the store by some poor old guy who didn't know what it was worth "Now this is a find. Jimi Hendrix, man. Lotta people say he was also a mutant, y'know, before they came up with a term for it. Gotta say it's not unreasonable to me. Probably something to do with a specific Sonic Resonance he can hear that no one else can. I don't know." He tucked the Vinyl under his arm and continued looking "I get the feeling you've got nothing better to do than look at me flip through records." He says not looking away from the collection "That or you need help finding something, which I don't blame you assuming I'm an expert with a place like this, given how I dress." He looked toward Skye, finally, with a slightly off-putting green hue gleaming from his irises. He stood up straight and stretched, a crack coming from his back as he stiffened, then relaxed again. "So, what's up?" "Wow." Skye studies this stranger a little more closely. "Sir, this is a Wendy's." For a moment it looks as though she might just leave it at that, but then she props the heels of her hands on the shelf in front of her and leans forward, narrowing her very plain brown eyes. "I was just trying to start a conversation with someone who seemed to like an artist I like. That doesn't mean I haven't got anything better to do, and it certainly doesn't mean I need help." She straightens back up, half turning back to the racks of boots she'd been perusing. "If you don't feel like talking, that's fine but, protip: you can just say that instead of being condescending." "I don't mind talking if you don't." The man responds. He stated, matter-of-factly, "And I'm asking what's up, meaning I'm trying to engage here. 'Sides that, I was just covering my bases." His eyes had followed Skye as she moved around, his eyebrows raising as he finished his commentary on his previous statment. He then asked: "So, again, what's up?" Skye's eyes narrow further, to the point where she looks less disapproving than just puzzled. "What's 'up' is I'm looking for some goddamn combat boots and probably should have stuck to that." She throws up her hands. "Instead, I tried to make small talk like a neurotypical and now I'm letting some random asshole mansplain social engagement to me like I've got nothing better to do." She makes a wordless noise of exasperation and, turning on the heel of her worn-out boot, stalks off. "Ah shit, wait, did I really come off that much of an asshole? Sorry, I don't really bother with tone or phrasing much." He suddenly sprung up from his trances of picking out records and turned to Skye. He sounded more sincere than Skye would probably expect. "I couldn't tell if you were actually trying to talk to me or just kind of buzzing around..." He said, kind of stumbling over himself to explain his tone as he followed Skye for a couple of steps. He was about to continue, but he was afraid of oversharing since He'd only just met the gal and to him at least, it'd be a bit too much to explain how he's not used to people in public trying to engage with him casually. At the sound of pursuit Skye turns, dropping her weight as if expecting the stranger to attack her. "Yeah, well maybe you should. A lot of white guys don't 'bother' with tone and phrasing, but guess what? I don't have to 'bother' with you." When the man doesn't come any closer she straightens warily, but takes another step away, just for good measure. "I'm not here to teach you why dismissing friendly overtures as 'nothing better to do' or 'buzzing around' -- whatever the fuck that even means -- might not go over well. Good luck figuring that out." When she leaves this time she walks much more quickly, and shoves the front door open so forcefully it sets the glass of the entire store front humming well after she's gone.