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It isn't difficult to make Aly Carter light up, not really. But faced with stepping into a store selling all things Halloween, be it dedicated or seasonal, well. The thread of conversation drops, hangs suspended in the air on an intake of breath as her eyes go wide, her smile tips and tumbles over to absolutely radiant, like a kid on Christmas morning. "--what was I?" she asks her companion, turning to look back over and up at him; those stars in her eyes are just a trick of the light, honest. There are stripes up the sleeves of her long-sleeved tee, black and orange alternating from just past her knuckles to her shoulders, where the meet the solid black of the rest of the shirt, and there are bows of orange ribbon at the end of each long braid, but she isn't otherwise overly thematic. "--last year, /right/. I did this-- clockwork fairy thing, to coordinate with some of my friends back East--"
The door dings obnoxiously as it closes again, just at it did when it opened, and Iago fixes Alyssa with a look and raised brows. Look, he didn't /know/ her last Halloween. There's no prompting from him as her story get derailed,but there is also apparently no need for it. He raises his brows a little more, though this time he looks puzzled, at her continued explanation. "Clockwork...fairy?" Oh you kids and your steampunk fetishes. He's dressed head to toe in bright green, which isn't especially thematic, unless one considers looking like radioactive slime thematic.
Bright green is totally thematic, or at least it matches Aly's ... eyes, if not her clothes. If nothing else, they're an attention-grabbing pair -- but a little less so here, as Aly catches at Iago's hand to drag him along behind her as they're absorbed into the store. There are rows of costumes, ranging from the bright and silly to the dark and ghoulish and everything in-between, beside, or spun off from; there are decorations as well, and all sorts of make-ups and accessories and everything one could imagine. It's not as crowded as it would be, were it closer to Halloween itself, but neither is it bare-bones empty. "I like fairies," she explains with a shrug, "and Nicky and his friends were doing steampunk. I'd never tried to combine the two, so it was a /challenge/. Got no idea this year, though."
Less so here, but not entirely unnoticeable. Besides, it's not exactly as if Iago doesn't dress to /get/ noticed. He flashes a smile at one of the clerks before he's dragged along behind Aly into some aisle full of, you know, stuff. "I wasn't nearly so creative last year. No challenging style mixes and whatever....then again, as I recall, I was strapped for time." He'd also gotten stabbed and almost died the week before or something and had barely gotten back from mission, but these are things he doesn't say.
Aly slo-o-ows to a stop once they're elbow-deep in decorations, though she avoids the more macabre in favor of the whimsical. "People are always ending up strapped for time," she says after a blown-out breath, offering him a wide grin and a wiggle of her freckle-splattered nose, "because it /creeps up/ on you and then all of a sudden, /bam/," she punctuates this with a lift of her free hand, fisted and then flung open wide like a firework, "it's the end of the month. What do you think of these?" Rather than dropping the gestural hand, she uses it to finger a strand of tiny grinning jack o' lantern lights.
Iago is not adverse to the more macabre items in offering, but neither does he zip towards them. Something about fake bullet wounds was more fun in high school before he encountered a lot of /real/ bullet wounds. Again, things that go unsaid, though at least his past as a forensic chemist is hardly a secret. "Yeah, time sure does fly, doesn't it? Last year was just busy." He leans in to look at the stand and comments, "You know, I've always had more of a fondness for the big, doofy plastic ones. Though these printed clothish things a re cheaper and...crafty, I guess."
"I can be crafty," Aly says, which is -- no secret to Iago, really. "But I was /hella/ crafty last year, so I think this-- maybe not so much." Though she's ignorant as to the /why/ behind Iago's, she can at least say with some measure of honest sympathy, "It's been a crazy-busy year for everyone, I think." She looses his hand, but snakes her arm around his waist to snug him into a side-armed hug that turns into a leeeeeaning stretch across him to hook her free fingers into a different strand: this time, the grinning jack 'o lanterns are bulbous plastic toppers on top of clear lights. "So something more like these, you're saying? For the shop."
"Oh, I'm sure you can," Iago teases with a waggle of his brows that turns 'crafty' as in 'making crafts' into 'crafty' as in 'being sly and clever'. Which is really more appropriate for him. "Every year everyone talks about being crazy busy." He makes a dismissive hand motion. "It's all relative." Oh, hello there, huggy. "You know, when I said we should get out, I really meant a not working sort of out," he notes a bit dryly. "Yeah. I dunno, they're a little tacky, but in that comfortable way. Nostalgic."
"Oh, I can," Aly echo-confirms with an upward tip of her face, a wiggle of her own eyebrows. It doesn't quite read sly, but /clever/, oh yes. "Life is just /busy/," she faux-cranks, "which is why it's not worth it not to make the most of it." The finger-loop turns into a tug to pull the string of lights off their rack, the half-hug into a squeeeze that's a warm, bright affection before she lets go, grins up at him some more. "Fine," she says on a laugh, "no more shop-decoration shopping, this is the last, I /swear/. Let's go look at costumes instead."
"No disagreement from me there," Iago says unsurprisingly in regards to making the most of things. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he says, but it's ruined a bit by a laugh and a brief return of the hug. "Decorations aren't so bad, but even I can manage to leave my work behind for a little bit." His classified, can't talk about anyway work. "You'll just be back at decorations soon as I turn around," he teases, even as they wander more towards costumes and accessories.
"I just don't want to use the same ones as last year," Aly admits with another scrunch of her nose, "that's just /tacky/. /So/," she says at they hit the costumes section, darting ahead of him a few steps so she can turn, plant her hands on her hips, and grin up at him as her braids sway behind her. "/What/ should I be, this year? At least, like, a general direction of interest."
"Some would say that's efficient, actually," Iago drawls. "We had the same decorations year after year, mostly. I think we got to pick out something new each year, but mostly it was the same stuff." Presumably he's talking about his childhood. Brows raise and he rubs at his chin consideringly. "I dunno, you wanna be cute or creepy or campy?"
"I gave away most of mine when I moved out here," Aly says on a laugh, "because that's what I used to do." She wiggles the strand of lights, still set against her hip, as she considers. "Out of those three -- probably cute or campy, rather than creepy. A total /shocker/, I know."
"Decorate?" Iago asks, pursing his lips and taping the bottom one with a thoughtful sort of drumbeat. He drags his other fingers along the strand of lights, making them jangle briefly. "Be still my heart," he says, clasping his chest over the organ in question. "And here I was so sure that you'd want to be a rotting zombie, all brains and flesh hanging off." Ew.
"Zombies creep me /right/ the fuck out," Aly says, just a little too-fast under her smile and the cheer with which it's said to be anything but genuine, "no matter how often Matt and Danny had me playing ... I don't remember which game it was, but you shoot 'em. A lot." She jabs a finger at his side, but her grin is bright again as she confirms, "So no, no zombies, unless you convince me really, /really/ nicely."
"So, you are saying I should not show up at your place dressed as a zombie, then?" Iago asks with almost perfect innocence, aside from the gleam in his eye. (And oh lord, he could probably make one hell of a zombie with all the training he's had. Not to mention his ability to break into her apartment).
"Oh my God," has weighted capitals even aloud, and Aly's eyes have gone round, rooound. (There is a little tremor of nictating membranes that /almost/ slide out, but don't, as she tamps back on a shiver of reflexive fear.) "Not unless you want to see me climb the freaking /walls/, Iago Ritter. That would just be playing dirty. I might even refuse to open the door for you." Not -- and her expression says it, quite clearly -- like that would actually /stop/ him. (Because oh man, could he ever.)
It is probably /not/ encouraging that Iago's smile grows slowly into a wide grin, brown eyes fixed unwaveringly on Aly as he looks amused and more than a little smug. In this context, it is a little scary. "I am know to play dirty," he muses quietly, as if he's /actually/ considering doing such a thing. "Think you'd actually climb the walls? That'd be a sight to see."
"I will /never/ /forgive you/," Aly threatens that smile, but she says it with a hiccupy little laugh that says this is at least eighty-five percent a lie. "You /wouldn't dare/." Which is dumb of her to say, because that's like trying to put out a fire by peeing gasoline onto it. She emphasizes her words with a shove at his side, ineffectual (and probably deliberately so).
Iago just smiiiiiles away at Aly, all smug and confident. What a jerk. The shove makes him totter a little, but not fall, while he laughs are her. Major jerk. "You have no idea what I would and wouldn't dare," he claims with a waggle of brows, but his attention is drifting as he picks up a plastic sword off a rack idly.
Aly's only response to this all is an, "/Ugh/," of mingled affection and disgust, for his jerky jerkface laughing and his /words/ and his /eyebrows/. "You are a /pain/," she declares him, but can't help but catch the drift of his attention thanks to the movement it produces. "Pirates are fun," she says, whether or not it's a piratical sort of sword, because she mentally skips most merrily from zombies (ugh) to pirates (yay). Now all they need are robots and monkeys.
"You like it," Iago replies to him being a /pain/ with a mix of cheer and low rumble. It's not really a pirate sword, but it lights up stupidly and makes noise, so naturally he's drawn to it. It gets and experimental swish in the air. En garde. "Pirates are pretty fun, I've done that a few times. One of those costumes that spans ages easy." Meaning, he's probably dressed up as a pirate several times over his life.
"Have no idea why," she says to that cheerful rumble, with a scrunch of her nose to soften the /terrible/ verbal blow. (Just terrible.) Light-up swords, and more precisely /noise/ draw a laugh from her -- a giggle, really. Because Aly's a giggler. "I haven't actually done pirate all that often. Fairies were usually my standby 'I have no idea what I'm going to be this year, crap!' costume." Still giggling, she fishes out a sword of her own, pushes a button to make it go *shwing!* and points it at him. Her form is /terrible/.
"Probably because I look like this," Iago suggests, gesturing to indicate his tall, broad-shouldered frame with a wide, charming smile. (Ok, that is probably not the reason, but it doesn't hurt, no?) "Well, then obviously you can't do fairies again, especially after last year." Would suggesting she be a My Little Pony be too meta? "Shit, what's cute and girly without being,like, painfully so like...princesses. Mermaid?" He doesn't even hit her sword with his own, just laughs once. "Good lord, you aren't going to hit anyone like that."
"Oh, like a jerky jerkface?" tumbles out over a laugh, Aly's own smile broad and brilliant in her grown-up pixy face. She brandishes her sword at him, all faux-menace as it lights up and tinny-shwings again. "Yeah, that must be why." Suggesting she be a My Little Pony would probably get shot down in a rush of breathless laughter, then feature product demonstrations of just /why/ she'd never be able to do that with a straight face. "Lord, not /princesses/," she says with a whole-body twitch, though mermaids get a little more consideration. "I could be a piratical mermaid," she says, punctuating it with a jab and an inquiring, "arr?"
"Now now, that reflects poorly on /you/, you know. Since apparently you are /into/ jerky jerkfaces," Iago teases in return with a smile and a lift of his brows. "So there." I dunno, that suggesting might be well worth the feature demonstration, if you know what I mean. "..a piratical mermaid? I feel like these two things don't quite go together like that. Maybe...an astronaut? Cowgirl? Uhm. Cylon?" The last is suggested especially cheekily.
"Hey, I have notoriously terrible taste in friends," Aly cheeky monkeys back at him, mostly glib save for a teeny hint of uncertainty, because let's face it: it's partly true, and she knows it. (Even if it /has/ gotten better over the last few years.) "So there, too." It would totally be worth it for the demonstration alone. "I managed a steampunk fairy last year, I could /totally/ make a piratical mermaid work," she insists, but she's still following merrily along, all freckle-faced, scrunch-nosed good cheer. "A /Cylon/," she carols, with a snort and a laugh and a, "only if you help me light up my spine in glowing red."
Swish, buzz! Iago finally stops swinging his sword around ad puts it away, moving on down the aisle as they chat. "Hey, I a a /great/ friend," he protests, because he /is/. Mostly. If you like charming assholes. "I guess you could work an eyepatch and a fishtail." There's a joke to be made here... "I dunno," he drawls, turning to walk backwards a few steps so he can better fix Aly with a smirk, "Do I get to help you the way it worked on TV?"
"/Maybe/," Aly puts some heavily exaggerated emphasis on the word, "my taste is improving. Maaaybe." She is still toting her sword, and jabs at him with it occasionally, just because. "Jolly roger bra instead of seashells?" she offers up, but that's old news now: more entertaining is the thought of his /assistance/. "I /was/ thinking, you know, with some of that chemistry-addled theater-kid brain of yours," she informs him, too solemn to be serious (the twinkle of her eyes ttly gives it away), "but I wouldn't /object/ to some experimentation in that direction."
"Ow, hey," Iago complains whenever he is jabbed. Good thing he doesn't have severe PTSD triggered by playful stabbings as if they were real ones. "Mmm, skull boob. So sexy." So odd. Maybe it would work, though? He browses the make-up with a bit of a snobby look on his face for most of it. "Well. Generally things that glow shouldn't come in contact wit your skin," he points out. "Though I'm sure there's a way. Beyond florescent paint." He snorts then, soft and amused as he looks over at Aly from under his brows. "Experimentations for science?"
Wouldn't Aly feel terrible if he did, though? At least this one is engaged in lighting up and making obnoxious noises as it nudges at hip or arm or ass. "Hey, you think the butterflies are plenty sexy," she laughingly protests, although lord knows that's just playing dirty. "Flourescent paint," she agrees, "or little LED strips with adhesive, or--" she doesn't quite share his /level/ of disdain for the make-up kits available, but there is something briefly frownish in her expression as she examines them, gone again as she finishes with, "--the television-approved method, of course." He gets a little bit of an eyebrow wiggle in return, and an, "I /did/ work in a research lab for a while, you know. I like doing things ... for science." Eyebrow-wiggle.
She should feel terrible if he did! "Oh my god," Iago complains as he gets poked again. "You are like a child, I swear." This statement is undercut by the fact that he's wearing a pair of glittery glasses as he says it. He's serious, okay? "I hate to break it to you, but its not the /butterflies/ I find sexy, brighteyes." More practically, he says, "No, not LEDs. Unless you want to get complicated. How about glowsticks?" He huffs a laugh, grinning and sets the glasses back. "I don't think the television-approved method is actually gonna make you glow like that...afterglow, yes, spine glowing? No." Hopefully there aren't kids around, right? This isn't too bad a conversation. "I'm not sure I believe you worked in a lab."
"I am totally buying this," Aly counters his complaint, snorting as it's delivered with glittery glasses. "Maybe the stuff /inside/ the glowsticks, or those-- tiny ones, like you're supposed to put in your mouth." Apparently things that glow hold as much appeal as things that glitter. "I /think/ I could live with just afterglow," she says on a /siigh/, "although I'd be /terribly/ disappointed. Only not really, 'cause I don't -actually- want to be a secret robot." She jabs at him again, shwing-tink at his elbow, and /sniffs/ at him. "I totally /did/. You can even call Doctor Grey and ask."
"Promise me you aren't going to try eating glowsticks," Iago says slowly and dryly, looking at his friend a little worriedly. Despite this concern, he does wander towards the things that glow section, all kinds of lights and glow-this-and-thats. "You /think/," he huffs with a little affront, frowning a bit. "You've never claimed to be disappointed before." Maybe she's lucky she claims to not actually want to be a secret robot, or maybe it's the mention of a certain doctor, but he lets it go and says, ".../The/ Doctor Grey?"
"Only if I trip and swallow one by accident," Aly says, using her lightup sword to point to the particularly teeny-sized glowsticks in their packages. "But not on /purpose/." Ew, says the face she pulls, blech. His /affronted/ comments only get a sunshine smile, all wide and guile-less; he's right, after all, but she's not going to /say/ it. Besides, he is questioning her /credentials/. "Yep," she answers, with a grin and a lip-bite and a scuff of one foot against the floor. "I worked for Gradient for a little bit, in high school. Before I got the job at Plastic Plans," and eventually spawned the childhood-scarring pornies.
Well, his ego is probably already too big without her saying anything, but there is no need to complain! Given that most of the glowy stuff is packaged and the store isn't dark, Iago doesn't really play with the stuff, but he gives it all a thoughtful once over. "I can't actually imagine you in that setting." Which is...not entirely complimentary. "Ugh, high schoolers in the lab." He is such an old man sometimes. But really. THE LAB. Shaking his head, he /moves on/. "Come on, surely we can figure out costume ideas if we look around more." And so they do, though there's likely a great deal more playing with stuff than actually making decisions.
Most wonderful time of the year: Halloween.