Who: Galatea |
visionblessing & Badou |
flamingun; closed
When: A DAY. Afternoon-ish?
Where: Market
Format: Kicking it off paragraph, but either is fine with me.
What: Running into people while shopping. IT'S GOING TO BE AWESOME.
Warnings: None that I can think of. I guess potential language?
(
and I'd just laugh and get away with it too )
He was reading the tiny print of the pack in his left hand when he heard a voice off to his side. He glances over, not realizing the question was aimed at him until he saw she was looking right at him.
"Um, sure. I guess. What d'ya need?"
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"Thank you," she replied politely, bowing her head a little. "I am trying to locate hair products," Galatea continued, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a woman dressed in a nun's attire to seek out something so frivilous. "Do you have time?"
If not, she could always lurk and aggravate him during his own shopping endeavours. A subtle revenge, but at least likely for a little entertainment.
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Back home he had a part time job in a little shop, so he's well versed where products would usually be stocked, but he's not sure if it's the same here. "I've got no where else to be. I was actually going to look for that stuff when I finished here anyways." He makes a gesture towards his hair, which is long enough to go midways down his back.
"Just give me a sec." He goes back to glancing between the packs before sighing and putting one down and pocketing the other.
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Galatea waited patiently, smoothing the cloth of her habit. "There's no rush. I am grateful for the assistance." A brief pause, and she tilted her head to the side, as if contemplating her new comrade. "Ah, forgive my rudeness. My name is Galatea."
It would be remiss, of course, not to be polite to one who had so easily complied. She suspected that any of her comrades from her own world would have taken rather more convincing.
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He turns and walks down an aisle that looks promising, scanning it carefully. He mostly spotted things like towels and soap and laundry detergent. Everything seemed backwards in this place. "Okay, I doubt it'll be in this aisle then. Plan B, walk up and down every aisle until you find it."
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However, perhaps her modesty was somewhat misleading; she followed the sound of his steps and his presence with ease, free of stumbles or any awkward motions. To be blind was, in her experience, a useful means for people to underestimate you-- particularly when they were unaware that you were a demon.
A soft laugh escaped her at his comment. "I'm sure we'll succeed, despite whatever mental deficiecies the designer of this shop might have." Galatea wasn't exactly the best nun out there, and she'd be the first to admit it.
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"Let's just hope he wasn't an alcoholic. You ever seen a drunk try to stock shelves? He'll put hand soap next to the cat food." He meanders down the next aisle with little luck.
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She smirked then, an expression that seemed distinctly out of place on a nun. "Rather unfortunate for any lacking in sharp wits," Galatea mused, idly picking up items and running her hands over them. "It is a sorry day when one returns from bathing smelling rather worse than when they started." And then she glanced over to Badou. "Am I to assume you observe drunken shopkeepers regularly?
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He continued to busy himself with checking all the shelves, but is still no closer to finding their objective then before. He shrugged, aware she wouldn't be able to see the movement. "I used to work for this old guy that would come into the shop smelling like booze and rearrange stuff when he thought I wasn't looking."
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Ah. Galatea shook her head, and trailed her hand along the shelves. "That sounds charming. I hope the position was well paid." At least that was something of an advantage of hiding away in the church; relatively few drunks. For the most part, at least, although a couple of the brothers were certainly impartial to their parish-brewed spice wine and mead. "Such are the trials we must endure, hm?"
Sadly, she suspected most people had rather more difficult things to endure than challenging employers.
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He rounded the corner to the next aisle and looked down it. It was all pet supplies. He decided to give the store the benefit of the doubt and swore in his head if what they're looking for ends up being in that aisle, he's going to have a very interesting meeting with the owner. "There were weeks when I wasn't even paid! The guy was a low life, but I got by okay."
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He glanced over to look at what she had in her hand. Upon closer inspection he sees that it is indeed hair conditioner, but not a brand he's ever heard of. He smirked. "Is that supposed to be a threat?" He finds an identical bottle on the shelf next to her and grabs it for himself. "I try not to test my luck, so believe me when I say it's what we're looking for. But I make no promises on how well it actually conditions."
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He laughed and brushed some hair over his shoulder. "Now why would I want to go around smelling like flowers? Heine would never let me hear the end of it."
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At that, another smile. "Heine is perhaps a person less qualified to inform you what scents are most likely to benefit. Especially," she added, with a distinctly amused note beneath her serenity, "considering what long established friends you and I now are."
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