Home Improvement

[Varyx]

Home Depot was a weird place to meet for a discussion, but hey, she'd asked him to meet, and left it open for him to pick a place. She supposed it was as good as any.

Still, it was faintly annoying for her to actually make her way across the store. On the way to the fencing section, she was stopped twice by workers asking if she needed any help. And then again once she started hanging around the section, waiting for Star to show. She wasn't dumb enough to think they were jumping at the opportunity to help because she was a new customer. At least the third time, it made sense - she did look like she was milling around aimlessly, because she was. The first two guys had no excuse - nothing whatsoever about her body language had indicated she knew anything less than exactly where she was going.

She ended up letting the latest employee to approach actually 'help' her. She asked a bunch of leading questions, flirted a little and amused herself by watching him stumble over his words in response. He was cute, but too young for her tastes, and she was just killing time besides. It was just something to do while she waited for Star to show.

[Star]

You can do it -- we can help.

That was then, this is now. Nobody wants to help anyone anymore; instead, it was More Saving, More Doing. Which is really Spend More, Work More. See the pattern? Mindless Drones, Untie. But the sad truth is, it's a great place to get stuff, even if it belonged to the Seers. Graybar is better, but too small. Besides, that's just poetic.

Over the past hour, the shopping cart has been slowly filled, one clear plastic wrapped tool at a time. Here, some pliers; there, a Bernz-O-Matic. Small clamps, bits of metal stock, two Blue Tarps, and a half empty bottle of Red Gatorade. Of course that's totally going to get paid for instead of an empty bottle getting tucked at the back of a random shelf.

The usual Henley and khakis is complemented by sunglasses, that's right, sunglasses indoors, and at the end of the aisle the Angel contemplates and compares two glue guns as Varyx is busy hooking up.

Because apparently some people take More Doing literally.

[Varyx]

It took Varyx a moment to spot Star, largely because she wasn't expecting the sunglasses, and she'd only see the man once before, but once she did, she managed to extricate herself from the conversation with the employee without too much trouble, stuck her hands into her pockets, and wandered over.

"Afternoon," she greeted, tilting her head curiously as she looked over the various items in the cart. They seemed like an odd mishmash of stuff, at least to her. Torches generally didn't go with tarps, as far as she knew. "I can't decide if the stuff in your cart makes you look like an artist or a serial killer," she observed lightly. A smile. "Interesting place for a chat, by the way."

[Star]

"Ummmm. Actually? I think the local serial killers are, like, into blood graffiti."

Between the sunglasses and mop, there's about as much face exposed as The Batman. A slight tic at the mouth's edge might be taken as disapproval, but who knows what for. The acknowledgment of Varyx' casual finesse at small talk, her appearance, the interruption of his time, or maybe just that there were no brown tarps.

Remember: Pretty Girls Are Mean.

"Is it? Interesting. I mean, like, it's just Home Depot. As in, not-in-itself interesting, but you said 'for a chat'," a hand flopped out like a dead fish before the shopping cart began to move. The metal basket shivers as a wheel catches, then releases with a screech. Over and over, rubber protesting on concrete and playing an industrial cacophony.

"I figure someone like you, you probably get asked out to dinner and drinks. Like, lots. To, uh, have chats. Not that, that had anything to do with where I wanted to go, because, really I needed to come here and it just made sense. But that, you know, you've probably been to all the fancy places." Chic, trendy, hip, whatever the singles crowd was saying these days. A turn made their destination more clear -- the outdoor section.

"So, I'm confused if you really think this is interesting? Or you just, you know. Start conversations with lies slash flattery."

[Varyx]

Varyx couldn't help but grin at Star's meandering, thoughtful speech. Even if he was prodding at her. She got the sense this was a test. It reminded her, weirdly, of her first conversation with Avis.

"That's true. That I get asked to dinner and drinks, I mean. I can appreciate the pragmatism of having a chat here while you do your thing." She was, admittedly, really curious about what it was he needed all this stuff for. But, before she could ask, he continued, prodding her about starting conversations with lies or flattery.

Her lips quirked, too, but up, in a notable expression of amusement. "It's neither. I honestly think it's an interesting place for a chat. Interesting meaning unusual. Most people just... default to getting drinks at a bar or something. Which, don't get me wrong, I don't mind, but this was an unusual choice. Says something about you, that's all."

[Star]

Yeah, what it says is that nobody is taking This Chick out for drinks when their significant other can can see through holes in Space.

...And kill through them.

Actually, it's more about having Stuff To Do. No offense, but priorities are A Thing. Hear that? It's a cue, yo. To ask what she thought it said. Insert flattery, and there's a visual of a ribbon slowly wrapping around a finger.

Draw a big mental X through all that.

Been there, done that. Paid the tab, too, yo. Besides? Someone's not nearly bitchy enough or brunette enough. True story.

"So, uh, what's up?" Words carried over the hiss of doors as they walked outside.

This time of day, this late in the season, the outdoor area with a handful of plants, mulch, and landscaping supplies is a ghost town.

[Varyx]

Varyx followed him outside, her hands still stuffed in her pockets. The sun was low in the sky and right in her eyes, and slipped on her sunglasses. Those big kind that cover half your face. Very fashionable.

She glanced around. No one seemed to be present, but she wasn't about to drop all caution about language. "I'm ah.... unaligned, you might say. I heard you're the guy to talk to if I wanted to learn more about your particular group," she answered. "I will grant, I know embarrassingly little about my options, since I haven't really been all that involved in the community before now. So, other than being cops, in a matter of speaking, what exactly do you do? What does it mean to be a member?"

[Star]

First Ermac, now Varyx?

Everybody's intent on being someone.

Social clubs are funny things. Some play it like a numbers game, but it isn't. There's a group that'll take anyone. More than one that'll recruit. Some don't. You know the saying. Don't call us, we'll call you. It's not elitism. It's preservation. Trees are only as strong as their roots, yo. Nobody needs moss.

"You know at the last, uh, the last big shindig?" The cart angled towards a back corner, wheel skittering and basket shaking worse on the textured concrete. "There was that thing. About book burning?"

Start off with a lob.

"Where, like, were you on that?"

Because roots.

[Varyx]

Varyx put a hand on her hip, considering the question.

"It seems to me there's an instinctive negative reaction that some people have to the concept of burning books. Which, don't get me wrong, I get. Historically, burning books is usually looked back upon somewhat negatively. But, to tell the truth, I have a difficult time seeing the use of keeping information like that. I mean, I'm not necessarily against the idea of finding out more about our enemies and using that knowledge against them, but... this isn't really normal knowledge, exactly. Reminds me of Nietzsche. When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you." She pulled her sunglasses down for a moment to look him in the eye. "I don't want to say for certain we should burn the book right now, because I know almost nothing about the book. One group says it's fine, it's just numbers, who cares, and if they're right, they're right. But I don't know, I get the bad feeling there's a hunger for power there that makes them want to pass it off as less of a threat than it is, I guess. Which is kind of the problem, because we don't know for sure it is a threat until someone actually looks."

She slipped the glasses back on and shrugged. "At the moment? I'd say burn it. I don't know anyone in this city well enough to know who could be trusted to check it out without giving into the temptation. Maybe nobody is. But either way, the way I understand it, studying it isn't going to give us any real weapons against our current biggest problems anyway. Last I checked, some numbers and theory probably won't really help us handle the issues at the school, or that drug problem."

[Star]

Damn, Gina.

Some people study it, some learn it, some are born with it. It's amazing what a little curve accentuation and shrug can do. There's a reason one of the greatest artists of all time suggested every architect needed to master the proportions of the human body. Even if it wasn't purposeful? Hard to ignore. Covered eyes simply closed.

"Congrats, you have an opinion." It's a little wordy, like, Libertine wordy, but it's in there. Pretty sure it doubles back at least twice, which makes it the Love Opinion of a Libertine and Thearch.

It's workable.

"So why didn't you, like, express it? At the time. I mean, obviously, you aren't, uh, shy. As in, not liking to talk."