[It was doubtful the man had anything of his, given how few actual possessions The Spine kept. But at the same time, he was curious to see. And at the worst, it was some time out of the apartment, some much appreciated time to himself.
So Mr. Gold would have one tall silver automaton stepping into his store at some point in the afternoon, green optics taking in the surroundings. It was certainly a curious little shop, and with as much variety as he could see, he had a feeling that this shopkeeper had just about anything you could imagine, tucked away safely on some shelf or in some old leather-bound chest.]
Now, I must say, I've only seen one other person like you here in Mandalus. [ He points straight at the Spine with a smirk on his face. ] And, as memory serves, he isn't quite fond of me. Then again very few are.
[The automaton just smiles wryly at that, one brow quirking upward at the comment.] Now what could you have possibly done to make my brother dislike you?
[Really there were options, from the perfectly legitimate all the way to 'Rabbit dislikes the way your face looks today' in severity.]
I mentioned that he was rather human like. Apparently it was the wrong thing to say to such a cleverly built individual such as himself. [ Yeah, he really has no regrets. ]
[That just gets a low chuckle, as he studies the shop in obvious interest.]
I have to say, I don't see a lot of pawn shops like this anymore. Most are chock full of bad vhs tapes and absolutely ancient electronics. It's a nice change of pace.
Well, I have to admit, as little as I tend to hang onto, unless you've got my little brother stashed in one of these chests, I doubt there's anything of mine he- [He'd been curiously studying a stack of books and journals as he spoke, optics brightening as he recognized the spines of three. Trailing off, he extracted the bundle from the other books, mindful not to topple any, a huff of steam escaping as he looked from the unremarkable journals in his hands to the shopkeeper.]
[The Spine hesitated a moment... but really it was Mr. Gold's shop, and as an automaton? One really didn't have 'ownership' of things as far as the law tended to be concerned. So he passed them over.]
I'd say you have no idea... but something tells me you probably do. [He wasn't The Jon, with his void and special sight... but living around him definitely gave one a vague idea when there was more to someone than met the eye.
The journals were well worn, the leather covers well-patterned in the oil and ink smeared fingerprints of the man who'd owned them, the pages inside covered with anything from technical notations to brief sketches of varied things, seemingly from observation.]
[It was doubtful the man had anything of his, given how few actual possessions The Spine kept. But at the same time, he was curious to see. And at the worst, it was some time out of the apartment, some much appreciated time to himself.
So Mr. Gold would have one tall silver automaton stepping into his store at some point in the afternoon, green optics taking in the surroundings. It was certainly a curious little shop, and with as much variety as he could see, he had a feeling that this shopkeeper had just about anything you could imagine, tucked away safely on some shelf or in some old leather-bound chest.]
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[Really there were options, from the perfectly legitimate all the way to 'Rabbit dislikes the way your face looks today' in severity.]
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I have to say, I don't see a lot of pawn shops like this anymore. Most are chock full of bad vhs tapes and absolutely ancient electronics. It's a nice change of pace.
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...I stand corrected.
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Things from our homes tend to wash up here unexpectedly. I take it these are of great value to you?
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I'd say you have no idea... but something tells me you probably do. [He wasn't The Jon, with his void and special sight... but living around him definitely gave one a vague idea when there was more to someone than met the eye.
The journals were well worn, the leather covers well-patterned in the oil and ink smeared fingerprints of the man who'd owned them, the pages inside covered with anything from technical notations to brief sketches of varied things, seemingly from observation.]
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They are in good condition, despite their use. The question remains, how badly do you wish to see them returned to you?
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