Try not to imagine yourself as a hamster in the habitat.
for sunny_dale
”Here you go. Receipt, bags… are you sure you don’t need help out to your car? Because I’d be so totally willing.”
It was the fifth time he offered. Admittedly, he was beginning to wear me down. Because the way he was looking at me, there was more to it than just providing excellent customer service. I think I’m gonna like it here. But sadly, I smiled and shook my head again demurely. I still had another shop to definitely hit, and possibly a few more I wanted to browse through. Maybe even that very large, slightly impersonal-and-yet-still-cozy-looking bookstore. Me and books. It’d be a wonderful way to spend the night.
Except that I was going out.
“No, but thank you for the offer. I promise, this won’t be the last time you see me. Unless my cousin turns out to be an ungrateful wretch.” I shrugged, adding the new bags to the ones I already carried, shifting them about until I found a happy balance.
”If he is, just let me know. I’d also be willing to talk some sense into him, about how we show respect for ladies here.”
I knew what kind of talking him meant. Talking with fists. The things I heard about American boys, I nearly laughed at the mental image of Wesley going down with one single punch. I loved him, but, well… Wesley was a wimp. The leather outfit might have done loads for his look, but one fight, and he may as well go back to the tweed and ties. I smiled at the boy at the counter once more, before making my way to the door. Shopping malls were an amusing oddity, but a dreadful useful one. And Sunnydale had quite a posh one.
I join the semi large masses already milling about; mothers dressed in athletic wear, pushing prams around in a brisk manner, paired off and chattering just as fast as their offspring; eldery couples circling in a more tepid manner, shaking their hands at the teenagers sprawled across the benches in the far corners, and the tables in the central food court. It was an observationist’s wonderland. A Watcher’s dream.
As I passed by the precisely dressed windows, my thoughts away from the flitters of duty (professional and familial), and more towards tonight. It was incredibly girlish of me, but I couldn’t honest think of a single, bloody thing to wear. Suddenly, all my clothes were too stuffy, too prissy, and horribly unhip. Not good enough to compete with the utterly fashionable Southern California crowd. I wanted to blend in, and look absolutely sexy while doing it. Xander. Shush, brain.
I passed by a window, then backed up. The mannequin in the front just… yes. This could merit from some further investigation. I went in.
[Open to anyone who may be shopping themselves.]
”Here you go. Receipt, bags… are you sure you don’t need help out to your car? Because I’d be so totally willing.”
It was the fifth time he offered. Admittedly, he was beginning to wear me down. Because the way he was looking at me, there was more to it than just providing excellent customer service. I think I’m gonna like it here. But sadly, I smiled and shook my head again demurely. I still had another shop to definitely hit, and possibly a few more I wanted to browse through. Maybe even that very large, slightly impersonal-and-yet-still-cozy-looking bookstore. Me and books. It’d be a wonderful way to spend the night.
Except that I was going out.
“No, but thank you for the offer. I promise, this won’t be the last time you see me. Unless my cousin turns out to be an ungrateful wretch.” I shrugged, adding the new bags to the ones I already carried, shifting them about until I found a happy balance.
”If he is, just let me know. I’d also be willing to talk some sense into him, about how we show respect for ladies here.”
I knew what kind of talking him meant. Talking with fists. The things I heard about American boys, I nearly laughed at the mental image of Wesley going down with one single punch. I loved him, but, well… Wesley was a wimp. The leather outfit might have done loads for his look, but one fight, and he may as well go back to the tweed and ties. I smiled at the boy at the counter once more, before making my way to the door. Shopping malls were an amusing oddity, but a dreadful useful one. And Sunnydale had quite a posh one.
I join the semi large masses already milling about; mothers dressed in athletic wear, pushing prams around in a brisk manner, paired off and chattering just as fast as their offspring; eldery couples circling in a more tepid manner, shaking their hands at the teenagers sprawled across the benches in the far corners, and the tables in the central food court. It was an observationist’s wonderland. A Watcher’s dream.
As I passed by the precisely dressed windows, my thoughts away from the flitters of duty (professional and familial), and more towards tonight. It was incredibly girlish of me, but I couldn’t honest think of a single, bloody thing to wear. Suddenly, all my clothes were too stuffy, too prissy, and horribly unhip. Not good enough to compete with the utterly fashionable Southern California crowd. I wanted to blend in, and look absolutely sexy while doing it. Xander. Shush, brain.
I passed by a window, then backed up. The mannequin in the front just… yes. This could merit from some further investigation. I went in.
[Open to anyone who may be shopping themselves.]