Mari instantly became worried. She knew that look. She had been friends with Spork for years, and nothing good ever came from that look. She instinctively began looking around, hoping that nobody was looking at the blind person who had just requested a song.
[attr="style","color:rgba(224,99,41,1);display:inline;"]“What did you do?”
she hissed, still glancing around.
As soon as the song began, she knew what they had done. She stifled a groan as red began to creep into her face. Mari sank lower in her seat, drinking more of her coffee to combat the warmth that had suddenly filled her cheeks.
she whined, once again looking around to make sure nobody was staring at them. Of course Spork had to pick the song known on the internet for that one weird guy using it for sex.
Spork just smiles, white teeth and sharp canines on display. They had almost forgotten about their croissant, but the paper bag crinkles under their wrist when they put their now-empty coffee cup down.
They tear a piece off the pastry and pop it in their mouth as deceptively normal orchestral strings fade out and the first notes of nightmare clown music begin to spill out of the speakers. They chew contemplatively, but they can’t quite keep the smirk off their face.
“It really doesn’t get better, does it?” they muse after a minute. “Also, this is totally your fault. We could be listening to Rick Astley right now if you’d’ve listened to the wisdom of those who came before you.”
They shake their head in mock-disapproval. “Young people these days. Croissant?”
They turn the bag around as though to offer Mari a bite, but snatch it back and tear off another piece for themself instead. “Too slow.”
Of course, they still offer it to her again, because they aren’t that cruel. To her, at least. “Did you have breakfast? Should we do that next?”
Mari sighed, taking a long drag off her coffee. She had to admit, it was decent enough, certainly better than the few times she’d tried making it at home. How was she supposed to keep track of something that had to sit that long? It was easier to just go out and buy it.
[attr="style","color:rgba(224,99,41,1);display:inline;"]“How is this my fault? You’re the chaos goblin here.”
She whispered harshly.
[attr="style","color:rgba(224,99,41,1);display:inline;"]“Now you’re probably going to set a new record for getting us kicked out of a place.”
Mari once again glanced around, shoulders hunched as she sank lower in her seat. The song’s grating notes seemed to drag on forever, which was undoubtedly part of Spork’s plan.
[attr="style","color:rgba(224,99,41,1);display:inline;"]“Yes, of course I had breakfast. Cereal and milk, tale as old as time.”
Mari had not, in fact, eaten breakfast. One usually had breakfast when they first woke up, and she’d ushered in at least one sunrise swearing at her workbench this week.
[attr="style","color:rgba(224,99,41,1);display:inline;"]“If you want to go get breakfast, I’ll tag along. Honestly I’d still probably smash the project if we went back.”
“Mhm,” Spork hums, absolutely unconvinced by her claims. They continue to shred the croissant, talking while chewing because who’s gonna stop them? “Did you forget we live in the same apartment? Just cause you do your little hermit thing doesn’t mean you can skip out on the dishes.”
They’d done the dishes without a word of complaint, of course, but it’s the principle of the thing. “Think I’d remember an extra bowl, unless you’ve moved past such childish things as dishware.”
They lean forward and wave the last piece of their croissant in front of Mari’s face, dropping it without a second’s consideration for whether it lands on the table or in her hands. She’ll probably catch it, unless those hours in the lab really have fried her brain.
Their work here is done. They push their trash in her direction and hop to their feet. “C’mon, I literally cannot listen to this song anymore. Let’s get you something hot.”
Mari let out a sigh, letting Spork ramble while she sucked down her coffee, leaving only melting ice and the brown-tinted water it created. She scoffed at their insinuation, rolling her eyes despite them not being able to see it. Of course she hadn’t moved past dishware. Any projects in that area kept getting pushed back due to mercenary requirements or repairing/upgrading Spork’s enhancements. God knows they wanted Miku to be changed often enough that she could probably do it in her sleep.
Mari’s hand moved as Spork dropped their croissant, mumbling a quiet thanks as she stuffed it into her mouth. The louder thanks came in the form of her stomach, growling in gratitude for its owner finally receiving sustenance. Betrayed by her body once again, a problem she couldn’t solve. She let out a sigh as she scooped together Spork’s trash.
[attr="style","color:rgba(224,99,41,1);display:inline;"]“Alright you got me. Just some odd hours working on the latest project is all.”
She bundled all the trash together in a bag, throwing it away before returning to Spork.
[attr="style","color:rgba(224,99,41,1);display:inline;"]“Let’s get out of here. This song sucks and I could use something more filling than your scraps.”
The spring sun warmed the petals of freshly bloomed buds, a light dee covering the streets in a hazy sheen slowly being eroded by the heat of the rising sun. As the world came to life around him Nathaniel walked with his earbuds in his ears, focused entirely on the list of items on his phone and crossing streets with the familiarity of one used to the morning bustle.
The wolf mask was nestled in his backpack, cradled against his laptop and a spare jacket innocuously despite its prominence in his mind. He had intentions to buy supplies, a project in mind so farfetched he had yet to even speak it out loud, the only anchor of that idea to reality the list he was carefully editing.
Heading out so early held its drawbacks, and one of those vibrated the pit of his stomach insistently as the scent of coffee and pastries drew Nathaniel’s gaze away from the screen. A record store and a cafe met his gaze, and odd amalgamation that seemed just the thing a kid more in touch might be interested in. Nathaniel was by no means an outcast, but the lane he walked tended toward an ignorance of current trends and interests. He didn’t even own a television.
Regardless of what it had been smashed together with, a cafe often had bits to eat, and though Nathaniel was not a fan of coffee most also sported a variety of teas. Satisfied he would find something palatable in the odd little business he tucked his phone back into his pocket and shuffled through the door casually.
Only to stop a few steps in, the odd sight of a young man in sunglasses spinning on his chair giving him a moment’s pause. It seemed the bored teller was stationed on the record shop side of the business, so after a beat Nathaniel simply walked to the counter of the cafe and scanned the contents of the menu wordlessly. Either another employee would help him, or the bored guy would have something else to do for a few minutes.
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One of the first places that Todd hunted down when he found a new city was a good coffee shop. A diner worked fine, too. Diner coffee tended to be black and oily and brewed far too strong. But it worked. He didn't know why coffee worked, either, but he wasn't a scientist. No need to experiment beyond what did and did not work and coffee, he found, did work. Caffeine was a hunger suppressant, and that's all that mattered.
The thing is, if it's going to work, he might as well be able to enjoy it. So he'd done a little digging and quickly found a small list of coffee shops, cafes, and diners in the Pittsburgh area. A few different places popped up, some cute, some more blue-collar, but the VULTURE caught his attention. Mostly because they advertised actually good coffee at not absurd prices. Partly because he was curious about the record store side of it, though he'd need to get a job before he bought anything besides the necessities. There was definitely some concern about the kind of clientele being wealthy music snobs, and the fact that he'd stick out like a sore thumb even if it wasn't for his rumpled suit.
The smell of coffee and the soft sound of music dulled out any other worries almost as soon as he stepped out of his car. The shopfront was nice, and not intimidating. Better yet it didn't seem to be too busy this time of morning. As he stepped through the door he saw a teller spinning in a chair behind the record store's counter, and only one other person on the cafe side. There didn't seem to be a cashier behind the counter over there just yet. That was fine, he decided. Just standing in here seemed to make the cold fade away a little bit. Rather than stand in line, he made up his mind to start casually browsing the shelves, checking prices on some of the CDs and even casettes that caught his eye. Maybe he couldn't buy, but a little window shopping never hurt anyone.
Another day, another customer. Such was life- though, it didn't seem like Kosuke had any recognition of this fact. He was behind the desk in the record store, cold brew in hand, spinning around on the chair without a care in the world. It had been slow up until then, that was his excuse. He was the manager, that was his other excuse. He'd let his employees spin around on their chairs as well, if they wanted- much like he'd let them choose the background music when the store was empty. None of them had queued anything that day, though, so it was his choice again.
Someone crossed the threshold into the record store, catching his eye moreso than the other one- because he had gone straight for the back. Kosuke sat up abruptly.
"Hey, man! After anything in particular?"
----
"What can I getcha?"
The barista smiled, her piercings flashing in the light. This was a newcomer, it seemed- she always made an effort to be polite to newcomers. Regulars, she could joke around with. Everyone else did.
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As Todd moved deeper into the belly of the store, he realized that the music he'd heard outside wasn't just muffled - it was soft, and in a language he didn't recognize. He didn't know what he'd expected. Most of the time, record stores played classics, old rock or darker country stuff that people could palate. Johnny Cash. Literally any big name 80's band. This felt much more modern. More hip. He should've expected it, obviously, this was a pretty hip place. And judging by the number of times "hip" was coming up in his inner monologue, he was very out of place.
But he found his head bobbing gently to the music when a voice pulled him out of his reverie. He couldn't tell if the chill that crept across his skin was something in that voice, his general unfamiliarity with the situation he'd just put himself into, or just a tiny itch of a deeper hunger. It didn't really matter, as the man from behind the counter spoke up.
There was a moment when Todd considered the options of "no, I'm fine, thanks" or "just browsing." But the shop was empty, there was still a line for coffee, and maybe he could do something to become a little more well-adjusted to his new surroundings, so he turned back and walked up to the counter.
"I'm not real familiar with the music scene around here," he said to the stranger. "So I guess I'm looking for local music. Relatively recent. "
It was everything he could do not to use the word "hip."
"I mean, if you don't have anything like that then I'm open to suggestions."
By the time the menu had been read another customer had walked in, this one seemingly intent more upon the other side of the business than the caffeinated one. As Nathaniel set the menu down the guy spinning in the chair went to help the new customer, and Nathaniel was met with a pierced barista.
”Can I get green tea with honey and a muffin?” As he dug for his wallet he looked around the shop more, the music in the background wholly unfamiliar. ”This place seems pretty hip. I’m surprised you aren’t busier.” In truth the emptiness of the place made Nathaniel a bit nervous, as if he were standing center stage. His attempt at small talk was a symptom of that anxiety, anything to feel less out of place than he already did. He had to force himself to keep his eyes away from the shining piercings.
His father had always said what was popular was often corrupt, and so Nathaniel had stayed away from scenes like this for most of his life. It was easy enough with the umbrella of his father’s strict rules and insisted extracurricular activities. If he saw his son now, buying coffee in a record shop while chatting with a girl with facial piercings, well luckily a lifetime of good behavior had bought Nathaniel a fair amount of trust. He wouldn’t put it past his father to keep surveillance on him if he lost that.
He could hear the judgement in her tone, in spite of her ingenuine attempts to hide it.
"Uh-huh. Well, most'a our customers come in a little later- afternoon-evening time."
She laughed.
"Guess hipsters aren't typically morning people. I certainly ain't."
She pointed a thumb towards Kosuke.
"He certainly ain't."
The muffins were kept in the usual glass display, which was kept in almost uncharacteristically spotless condition. Well, uncharacteristic for the place. Not uncharacteristic for Cass, who seemed to spend most of her time picking up the slack of her slacker co-workers. Hey, at least that new hire seemed willing to do some work- or, at least, nervous enough to take convincing.
"Four ninety-nine." She said, plopping it onto the counter, "You can queue something on the soundsystem with that, as well."
A wry smile crossed her face.
"Anythin' hip you wanna play?"
----
Kosuke laughed.
"The music scene?" He grinned, "Honey, you're looking at him."
A dramatic hair-flick accompanied the statement, diffused with yet another laugh.
"I'm, uh- Vanity. From PREMORTEM. This is my day job."
He grinned.
"Man, I love saying that. I love it! Makes me feel like my old self again!"
Pre-MYTHOMANE, of course- though, it seemed that this stranger hadn't been around for that. Maybe the band name would've tipped him off. Either way, the event had been ruled an accident, and Kosuke was never one to let anything break his spirit, so his unwavering joviality wouldn't be seen as suspicious.
It never was.
"Anyway, uh, aside from my own self-shilling..."
With a sharp kick of his boot against the counter, the shopkeep managed to push himself halfway across the store- the chair rolling to a stop just in front of a section marked "VULTURE'S HOARD". This was clearly a favourite mode of transport for him. It was awfully precise, where he stopped.
"Ehhh, let's see..."
Still perched on the chair, he rifled through the discs, reading out the names one by one as he passed through them.
"The Girl at Ocean's End, they're alright... UNREVEAL... VANITY PRO- oh, that's my solo stuff, haha... uh, what sorta genres are you lookin' for? That might help narrow it down..."
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Code by Illirica
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The cashier had a dramatic streak, which Todd found himself appreciating despite himself. He got the sense that Vanity actually enjoyed his “day job.” And for a musician working at a record store this must be the best day job he could’ve asked for. Judging by the precision of the roll-and-stop, he’d been here for a while.
Or just bored. Todd overheard the cashier say that the mornings tended to be slow.
But he followed the man who’d introduced himself as Vanity and stood nearby while he started to read off some band names. Maybe Todd stood a little further away than was strictly necessary, given there was still the endless cold under his skin. He’d have to take care of that asap. But before that, he’d get coffee, and before that, he’d at least humor the clerk, even if the coffee line seemed to be considerably shorter now.
“It’s your lucky day, Vanity. You’re looking at a blank slate.” He grinned, without the enthusiasm of Vanity’s smile, but friendly all the same. “I don’t like to sit still for very long, so I tend to just turn on the radio. I do like to check out local artists whenever I stop by a place for a while. I’ll try anything once.”
Nat may not have been what others considered cool, at least not by the standards that seemed to matter in his school, but he had rubbed shoulders with various popular people in his school career. A few of them were the type who would visit a place like this, both for the music and the caffeine. Though Nat was ignorant to the trends of either of those topics he had learned a trick about record stores that he took a gamble on trying here. With a pensive look he took the muffin and turned to the arranged records on the other side of the shop.
”Let me thumb through real quick and I will see if anything catches my eye.” He resisted the urge to wink; it wasn’t as cool in real life as it was in the movies. It mostly just creeped people out. Lessons learned. He headed straight to the back, to the records that were used and already well loved. The cover he chose was faded and dusty, but the vinyl inside seemed to have been well cared for. Deafhaven was printed around the center.
Returning to the front with his prize in hand, Nat set the album down gently. ”Here you go. Any of the songs off of this one will work for me.” Of course he didn’t know any of the songs, or the band, but it couldn’t be that bad, could it? As long as they didn’t ask him to cite any of the lyrics he might even look cool for his choice. Not that he was really all that concerned with looking cool.