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Rail stuffed his head further into the box, sifting through long strands of faded pearl and heaps of frilled clothing. His hand hit the bottom; he poked around further, trying to feel it with his fingers. It had to be in here.

"I'm sure it's there," the wrinkled woman behind the counter said. "It's such a nice cigarette holder, too."

Rail's fingers touched cool metal, and he smiled. "Think I got it!" He yanked it out through the layers of clothes, trinkets, and clacking beads: a silver cigarette case, his newest find!! Quickly he began to examine it, sniffing it and running his fingers over the fillegre. It was perfect!

Rail was a collector, and this was his long-awaited grail item. He liked to spend days off from band gigs like this: ducking and hiding in vintage shops down the alleys of Durem, where nobody knew him as the main vocalist from 'Primary Egg'. Instead he was a 20-year-old faun with an eye for old vintage items, always being precise in his finds and critical of what he wanted. Most of them were trinkets or baubles or other such things that he treasured: he had no use for a cigarette case in the traditional sense.

In essence, he just loved collecting 'random crap,' as Dierk called it.

"It's not random crap, it's random cool s**t," Rail often protested.

"Ah, yes, such a nice case too," the older woman said, causing Rail to shake his head and force himself to not think about Dierk's inability to appreciate cool, artful objects... He flicked his furred, goat-like ears. "How much will it be?" he asked eagerly, clopping up to the counter in a rush of cloven hooves. He placed the case on the glass counter (there were other items below the counter, too, but those didn't matter today).

"For you, ohhh...hm," the lady said, taking the silver case in her knobby fingers and turning it over a few times. "Ten, I think."

"Great!" Rail said, suppressing a whoop. He dug his hand into his black jacket pocket, producing a number of wrinkled bills which he placed on the counter. Gold was too damn heavy to carry around in your pockets.

The lady rung it up on the old-fashioned till, placing the bills neatly in the drawer as it popped out. "Have a nice day, Rail," she said as he happily took the case from her (which she had placed in a small paper bag.) "Come again soon, now."

"Yes, I will!" Rail said, opening the bag as the receipt was slipped in it. With a wave, he went to the door of the cluttered, mothball-smelling shop: the bell of the door rang with a ding.

"Ha!" Rail crowed once outside, his hooves sounding on the cobblestone. Cheerfully he stuck his hand in the bag, the case held tight in his fingers. He turned it around and around in the light as he walked, passing the cafe tables and umbrellas without a glance. This is great! he exulted. Been waiting for a good one of these for ages! So glad she was willing to part with it! This will look great in my room... He fingered the tiny clasp on the case, completely absorbed. Tris would probably like it, too - to hell with Dierk. He wouldn't know art if it was staring him right in the face! Which, it often did. Rail rolled his eyes in exasperation at the thought.

Rail, oblivious to all passer-by, carefully slipped the bag with the cigarette case into one of his jacket pockets. Okay, what next? Got the case, now I probably have to go food shopping because Tris is out with her girlfriend and Dierk is a lazy a*****e. His goat ears flattened in annoyance. The real trouble was Dierk never got any of the more OBVIOUS things the house needed, only what he FELT like getting. Damn him.

Maybe I'll stop for a shake on the way back... He pulled out a pocket watch and flicked the top of it open, watching the street out of the corner of his eye so that he didn't trip over his hooves. Cooblestone had all those little trenches, adept at catching a negligent faun. Well, it looks cooler than pavement at any rate, he thought to himself. He snapped the watch shut and put it back in his jacket. Had enough time for a shake. Then, the supermarket.

Twitching his tail, he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the shops as he passed by. His stomach was already rumbling at the thought of dinner.

Absorbed in all of his own thoughts, he made his way along the street for the cafe some ways up ahead.

Rail slowed, something in a nearby shop window catching his eye. It was strange that he'd never noticed it before: after all he was down this way often, combing the shops to add to his collection. It was a set of plates with a design print that he had been looking for for some time. Normally this particular print was hard to come by...and there it was, sitting in a shop window, plain as day.

Rail stopped rather abruptly, his tiny goat tail flicking. "What the hell?" he said aloud. He turned and walked right into the door of the shop, making a beeline for the display window.

He flagged down the shopkeep and then handled the plates carefully, looking for chips and scratches. How come I didn't notice these before? Goddammit. Could have missed them completely. I wasn't even paying attention! Annoyed that he was losing his eye for this sort of thing, he began looking at the matching set of teacups.

Rail, surprised, looking up from his careful examine of the china. He didn't recognize the man; he knew the store shopkeeps pretty well, too, so he found it...faintly odd. Unintentionally he gave a confused look, then blinked and look down at the plate in his hand. "...Really?" he asked, though his tone was a bit unconvinced. The mention of mothers going for the plates seemed weird. Sure, they were plates and all, but Rail could think of several collectors...

He scratched behind one of the small horns poking out through his mess of black hair. Well, it doesn't really matter, if there's a few other people considering these...

"I'll take them, the whole lot," Rail said, bringing the one plate forward and placing it carefully down on the glass countertop. "The matching teacups too." He couldn't help but elaborate a bit; he liked to talk about his interest. "Been looking for this pattern for a while...no idea how I could have missed it. I swear I looked everywhere..." His bright red eyes flicked up at the salesman. "Were you just hired? I don't remember seeing you around." He waited for the rest of the china set to be packed up into the appropriate boxes, confident that his rather generous bank account could take the hit.

That made perfect sense to Rail. He broke into a cheerful smile. "Yeah? Well, welcome to the fore!" He turned and leaned with his back against the counter. "Eh, yeah, it can be a bit complicated. Some people - hate to say it - get way too strung out over it, too. I love collecting, but I keep it in perspective." He sighed crossing his arms. He was happy that the new guy didn't recognize that he was from a band. He found that so exasperating - not that he wasn't immensely grateful for his fans and their support of the group, but when it was a day off he'd rather be alone...

"That price is fine," he said, replying the quote. He thought it rather reasonable. Straightening up, he pulled out his wallet again. "Think I might write you a check instead," he murmured, thumbing through a few small bills. "Try not to walk around with a load of money, you know? It's just asking for trouble." He kept a few checks folded into his wallet; these he slipped out. He clicked his pen (another favorite item of his) and wrote out the check. "Hate being left-handed," he said, smudging a bit of the ink against his best intentions.

He slapped the check happily on the counter. At the complimentary gift, he blinked and leaned forward, taking it carefully. "Huh," he said thoughtfully, examining it. Looked more like an ankle bracelet than a bookmark. "Cool. Do you know what the writing on it means?" He wasn't exactly an expert in bookmarks, but he found it a bit fascinating - with the random beads, and all. Who would use this kind of thing as a bookmark! Takes all kinds, he thought to himself. "Any idea on the source, and how old it is?" He always liked to get details about his items.

"Hmm, okay," Rail said, shrugging and pocketing the bookmark. He arranged the boxes holding the china in a small tower that he could carry. Wrapping his arms around it, he hefted it up and smiled. "Thanks anyway. Have a nice rest of the day."

With that, he clopped out of the store, shouldering the door open and weaving his way around passerby in the street.

Damn. Now he'd have to go home and drop these off before he could go to the supermarket. ...Oh well, come on! Been looking for these forever!! He was ecstatic at the thought. I wonder if yellow goes good with our kitchen...

He made his way up the alley, ticking off mentally the things he'd need at the grocery store. Milk...bread...

And he was off.