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 Posted: Sat Aug 22, 2015 3:24 am
Saturdays guaranteed business, and Isaiah's shop struck its limit with staff on hand. Associates mingled with the many customers and provided their best input on items that interested the customer. Sales drew the majority of the crowd that day, and Isaiah entertained the few that intended to pawn their prized possessions. As much as he wanted to see Mr. Sarcowicz that day, he couldn't spot the man for all the crowd there was. If he showed up, he was lost to the shrewd businessman.
Isaiah recently finished closing a deal on a signed book, one of the few printed copies left of a particularly famous American novel, and asked one of his clerks to shelve the book in the back for further inspection. Another cashier wrote up the deal and cashed out the funds to pay the old woman. More came to the counter that his general manager handled, which left Isaiah the rare time to slip onto the sales floor.
Despite the active business, the floor did not feel terribly crowded. Families grew easy to spot for how the lot of them huddled closely around an object in question, and loners spaced themselves out among solitary hobbies like guns and hunting accessories. A pair stood at one of the glass-faced cabinets housing his books. The floor space beyond the displays felt relatively clear save for the few that migrated into the store, or went looking for the bathrooms. Isaiah himself was not bothered much by the customers due to the staff presence hanging about. He spared a grin to the few he knew, but overall he suspected they noticed his unease.
The bell over his door chimed, and more came in. One of the men looking for a particularly pricey art deco vase came poking about and sighted him immediately. Few words were exchanged between them, but the older gentleman's growing irritation became politely apparent. He offered no condescension, and no verbal cues toward it. He left with a polite thanks and departed out the door, as quick as he came.
But Isaiah felt the pressure. He knew he was running out of time on this contract, and needed a courier to depart on it immediately. But who was there to call?
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 12:03 pm
Pawnography was the name on the back of the card. Clever name for a pawn shop. Rob made his way down the street the shop was located on according to the address on the card, looking at signs as he attempted to locate it. With Sidney moving in, he had the impetus now to get more work done on the house, especially the office on the second floor. He had been using the basement studio as his office, but with Sid's DJing gear down there now there wasn't as much room to work. And he needed to be able to think when he was working on business, and thinking was hard to do with his energetic childhood friend bouncing around and making her own brand of music in the basement. (Which reminded him, he needed to add more soundproofing to the studio between his house and his parents'; they had actually heard music the other day, and that was unacceptable to Rob.) Glancing up, he finally spotted the sign for the pawn shop. Hopefully Isaiah was there. He'd been a bit dubious about this whole arrangement when the man had finally revealed his real name, like maybe he was hiding something from him. Tossing out a fake name like that was different than using a stage name, as far as Rob was concerned. He just hoped this guy was legit -- the money would be useful for making the home improvements he wanted, and there might even be enough extra to keep himself and Sidney in booze for awhile. The door jingled as he entered the shop. He immediately looked around for Isaiah, but didn't spot him right away amongst the throngs of people. At least the place was busy, which was a good sign. Where was he?
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Posted: Fri Aug 28, 2015 12:26 pm
A quick scan of the store confirmed none of his usuals hanging about for assignments. This disappointed Isaiah greatly; he would have to call one of them - a task he secretly loathed. Isaiah retrieved his phone from breast pocket and rapped it against the glass counter while he dredged up names and faces that might ghost through his most pressing contract.
And coldcalling never worked in his favor.
The door chimed clarion with another customer, and Isaiah breathed a sigh upon departing for the threshold. When he caught sight of the mess of braids, he recognized the stranger at once for 'Rob Anybody'. That works out quickly, doesn't it? Isaiah smiled lackadaisically in passing by a few of the occupied customers. Cutting past the display of knives, Isaiah skirted the corner and approached his now-favorite blonde.
"Hello, Rob. How fortuitous that you've dropped by. Can I help you with something?" While there were specific arrangements toward contract work, Isaiah refused to assume that their deal was the sole reason for his arrival. Rob may well be looking for a new handgun, or a signed first edition copy of The Old Man and the Sea, or any number of items present in the shop. He may also have something to sell, or pawn in trade to loosen the financial squeeze. And what's to say he wasn't around for a little conversation?
And there might even be something beyond that. I wonder if there's some intuition available if someone has an alter ego. Are people naturally inclined toward us without knowing it? Or us to each other? Hah, when did I become so superstitious. Get ahold of yourself, Isaiah.tatterpixie sorry if crappy, falling asleep
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Posted: Sun Aug 30, 2015 1:11 pm
Through the throng of shoppers and other customers in the store Rob spotted Isaiah coming his way. He hadn't noticed it before when they'd first met -- it had been dusk after all, and in the dim light who could really say what one saw -- but there seemed to be something vaguely familiar about the tall, lanky man. Maybe he'd seen him on the street before, cruising by his busking spot? Or somewhere else? He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Oh well, it was a puzzle for another time as Isaiah approached and greeted him. "Hey. Nice place you got here." It didn't look like what he imagined a pawn shop to look like -- nothing seedy or furtive about it at all. He decided to cut right to the chase. "Yeah, I'm looking for a gig." Rob didn't know what else to call it -- a contract? A courier job? 'Gig' was a term that hopefully would get the point across to Isaiah that he was looking to do some work for the pawn shop and its owner. "You got anything available?"
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Posted: Fri Sep 04, 2015 3:05 am
"It's a step up from what I had in New York," he consented easily. Working in this area offered both a better customer base and greater space for the location. Despite a lower volume of sales, he still made significantly more overhead through needing fewer employees and paying far lower rent costs.
Rob's declaration of intention was both surprising and well-received. He much preferred the people who opted against small talk and its constituent headaches. "Ah, perfect." Hands clasped together with right hand over the left. Idly his thumb traced the heel of his underlying hand. "I just had a gentleman stop by for a certain type of vase - I've traced it to an art gallery, actually, who is currently selling it - but I've not been able to obtain it myself. Running low on couriers since moving here hasn't done me a lot of good.
"The vase in question is a low run collector's item - and while the museum is trying to sell it at an overhead of eight grand, I expect I can purchase it in the neighborhood of six. Your job is to cut down the price for me as well as obtain the item - the more you can whittle down the price, the more you keep for yourself. If they won't budge from their original asking price, that greatly depletes your earning potential on this job. Of course, I can't send you cash on your journey - or a cheque - but they're flexible enough to strike a deal with you and then call me afterward to send payment details. They're a gallery I've worked with before, so they're not entirely unfamiliar with seeing couriers in place of myself. Once details are worked out, it's considered a second job to go for the pickup - and that's dependent on how comfortable you are in transporting a several thousand dollar piece under your arm, or in your trunk or whatnot. I won't be terribly happy if it arrived broken."
Isaiah started with writing down some rudimentary information on the piece in a notebook, and afterward removed the page to hand to Rob. "If you wanted to take this job, this will get you started on finding the right item. Otherwise, I'm certain there are a few other jobs around here that I can send you on instead."
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Posted: Sun Sep 06, 2015 10:23 am
Rob listened as Isaiah laid out the details of the job at hand. It sounded straightforward enough -- go to the gallery, announce himself as Isaiah's representative, negotiate the vase down as close to six grand as he could manage, seal the deal. And a second job of going back and retrieving it once payment had been made. He figured he could handle it; he wasn't an expert at negotiating, but he knew enough about it from his time wandering around the big outdoor markets in London that he felt confident he could get it for Isaiah's preferred price. He accepted the piece of paper, examining it before folding it and shoving it into one of his pants pockets. "Right. Got it. I will try my best to get the price down for you. You can count on me." Nevermind that he imagined his cut of the deal would be pretty significant -- might even be enough that this one gig would cover the expense of supplies for the office rehab. Something else the man had said in passing struck a chord in him. "You from New York then? My housemate just moved here from New York too. Small world, innit?" He of course didn't ask Isaiah if he knew Sid -- he had no idea if the man would have run in the same circles as his friend, and frankly kind of doubted it. Plus there was the whole what-are-the-odds thing that out of a city of several million people that one would know the other. It would have been just as ludicrous a thing to ask as someone asking him if he knew so-and-so in London.
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2015 8:02 am
"Excellent. That's what I like to hear." He paused to gesture toward one of the older staff members, palm open and fingers splayed. The other man offered a nod, and Isaiah beckoned for Rob to follow him back out the door. He held it open using his shoulder as he loitered at the threshold for the man to pass. He let the door fall shut behind him afterward. Rooting around in his pockets, Isaiah produced a vape, changed the cartridge, and took a drag.
He spared a wan smile at Rob's comment of coincidence. "Yes, I tried living in New York for about a year and some change. Right after I got engaged, in fact." Another drag, and the vapor was exhaled nasally. "The world might be small, but New York isn't. Sometimes, I think, it's bigger than the rest of the world." Or it felt that way. Hands folded across his chest while he watched the traffic roll through Craft Street. New York was such a hellish experience. I much preferred Chicago. We never lived in the best part of town, though. Might've been different if we did. Might've been different if we weren't squandering spare cash chasing the nearest thrill. But if we weren't... We'd end up in the same situation as now. Sidney probably living with her aunt again, myself living in Destiny City trying to make a living out of a warzone.
It probably wasn't the best time to get started on small talk, but his general manager worked well under pressure. If Isaiah wanted to spend a few minutes shooting the s**t with a courier then he would without concerning himself over slowing down inside.
"So how do you like your housemate? Maybe a little on the boisterous side?" He joked, knowing full well the alpha personality needed to get anywhere in that city.
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Posted: Tue Sep 15, 2015 12:09 pm
"Yeah, I've heard New York City is a tough place to try and survive," Rob replied, "from more than one source. London's big too, like that, bigger than the world, and it can be tough, depending on where you end up." His own background was posh Kensington, but Sid's wasn't, and looking back now he could easily see the difference that it made. Usually Rob wasn't one for idle chit chat, but he actually kind of liked Isaiah -- the taller man was no-nonsense, cut to the chase, and a self-made man who'd apparently been able to make a real go of it here in Destiny City with the pawn shop. He appreciated that, being something of a self-made man himself, though not as successful as Isaiah was. Given time, though, and the financial resources he needed, and he'd have that record label up and running. Rob laughed at the comment made in jest. "Yeah, she's a bit on the rowdy side. Nothing I can't handle though -- not like that," he raised his hands and shook his head with a short laugh. "She's my childhood best friend. We grew up in London together. I took her in after she got out of a bad situation in New York."
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Posted: Mon Sep 21, 2015 2:49 am
I'm certain it is." Business had not yet led him across the pond, but he expected from secondhand information that London housed similar issues to New York. He was uncertain if the overcrowding was quite as bad, but... Everywhere with people in it had issues. Loathsome little creatures, but possibly the most interesting ones on the earth right now.
"New York is a bad situation," Isaiah commented dryly. His eyes grew somewhat lidded as he remembered the host of daily inconveniences that composed New York life. His trash can of an apartment seemed much too expensive, the lock wouldn't budge half the time, and busting a** meant he broke even. Chicago offered a better chance at cash than New York did, but between Sid's family and his desire to move up in the workplace, he found no better choice than that. "I can't remember having a good time there. Well - there were a few, but..." He was uncertain if proposing and receiving acceptance qualified anymore as a good time when he lost the engagement.
He found it easier to stomach the conversation when he spoke less of his past. "How's your roommate like this city? For all its problems, I'd still take it over New York."
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2015 12:51 pm
Rob nodded at Isaiah's assessment of New York. "Yeah, I've heard that. I may have to pay the place a visit, just to see for myself how it stacks up with here and with London." He hadn't been anywhere in the States yet except Destiny City, and he wasn't sure that was a good basis for comparison. Did other cities have youma and the Negaverse and senshis as well? "Oh, she likes it fine here I think," he replied. "She's got a gig already, and of course a place to live -- I'm taking care of her til she gets on her feet, but that shouldn't be too long at this rate." He recalled Isaiah's confession of fondness for EDM and cocked his head. "Maybe you've heard her -- she's a DJ. Plays the kind of music I think you'd like."
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Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2015 2:33 pm
"Try to give it a chance to stand on its own." He offered an easy smile in hopes of softening the suggestion. "Part of the reason New York ended up less than stellar for me was because I spent most of my time there comparing it to Chicago. It's easy to do." Isaiah figured he needn't further explain the reasoning behind the practice, so he ended his proposition there.
"It's very possible, I dated a DJ before, so I've been fairly integrated with the scene." Suspicions urged him to consider Sidney James as a possibility for Rob's roommate, and such a thought laced his hands with a fine tremor while blood rushed to escape his body, but logic held fast that the odds proved completely improbable. Coincidences happened, certainly, but Isaiah found that probabilities often won out long before such coincidences secured prevalence. If Rob had a name to drop, then Isaiah might know it by virtue of the number of clubs the pair visited. He expected to hear, perhaps, Twilight Sparkle or MEGAhaze or one of the more popular DJs that would've hit it big if they knew how to advertise.
With hands stifled for the moment, his anxiety toward asking still welled to the brim. A rotten knot formed in his stomach with anticipating the worst case scenario, and for the moment, the only people standing within the pawn shop were Rob and himself - assuming that he fully acknowledge the setting as part of their conversation. From experience, he knew that knot would settle for days if he didn't ask for clarification.
"So what's this DJ's name?" His question sounded far smoother than he felt at the moment.
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Posted: Fri Sep 25, 2015 1:08 pm
Rob pondered for a moment. He honestly didn't know if Sid used a different name to DJ under, but he was fairly sure she didn't. She would have certainly told him if she did, proud of her work as she was. (Just as proud of her work as he was of his.) There was still some hesitation about giving Isaiah her name, but he really did seem to be a decent enough bloke after their conversation, and the man knew the scene. For all Rob knew, Isaiah had seen her already and would know who she was. "You'd remember her if you've seen her. Short girl, skinny, choppy rainbow hair." He held up his hand to about nose height to indicate how short. "Full of energy. Her name's Sidney." He laughed lightly. "Funny name for a girl, but she's English like me, so take that as you will."
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Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2015 2:50 am
Rob's starting description drained Isaiah's blood at an alarming rate. Detachment soon followed, tainting their conversation with such surreality that he could hardly consider it real. In a brief span of seconds, while Rob spoke and Isaiah listened from his thousand-mile point outside time, he wondered where his blood escaped to in moments like these. He wondered if, somehow, it drained to a pocket dimension while lightheadedness threatened to steal away his consciousness. He wondered if his blood pressure dropped because his body didn't want to know reality in these next moments.
The speculation itself felt strangely detached from his experiences, and he continued his placid demeanor despite the budding realization that his hands were shaking. He managed another drag of his vape, and hoped the quick motion of it might hide the tremor. When he at last responded to Rob, his voice betrayed nothing of his panic. "Sidney James." He watched their reflections in the opposing building, when cars hadn't broken their appearances with irregular beats. "She goes by Chou on stage. Means butterfly. I don't know what language it is. I suppose I've forgotten that after a while." Papillon was French, Schmetterling was German. His Spanish rusted out ages ago. Asian languages remained beyond his scope, but he guessed at Mandarin Chinese. Maybe.
Sid was asian, after all. Asian with her capital of Australia first name and her generic caucasian family last name. Sidney James might've been someone else before he met her, before she came across the pond to whittle away her days with school and fighting her parents and spending hours in music stores while looking for the next beat to catch. Belligerent little Sidney James might've been anyone before rainbow vomit stained his sink and monochrome hair knew every color that the eye could see.
'but she's English like me'
English, and asian, and American, and beyond Teeth. I guess she's not so far, now. I don't think I feel anything at all.
"I met her before."
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Posted: Thu Oct 01, 2015 8:38 am
"Oh, that's some coincidence, innit?" Rob tilted his head slightly, wondering about the faintly distant expression on Isaiah's face. Maybe he was just reminiscing back to New York and the club scene there. Here he'd never known Sid's stage name, but Butterfly in another language seemed particularly suiting to her. Chou. He'd have to mention that to her when he got home. "Still," he continued, "I figured maybe you might have met her, or at least seen her, since you run in the same circles and all. I personally don't get a lot of EDM music, but I like the stuff that Sid spins well enough. And she puts up with me and my punk s**t," he laughed lightly.
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Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2015 11:56 am
"It's something," he returned halfheartedly. And what would you do, Rob, with someone you promised your life to once?
"We ran into each other several times." In bed, against the wall, in public restrooms, stopped elevators, dark hallways... "EDM is pretty popular now, and I expect she has some part in that, but she also spun EBM which was more my scene. It's... Strange, though." He stopped there, and shook his head with a wan smile.
When Isaiah looked toward Rob again, that smile spoke more of his genuine disposition than the sullenness manifested moments ago. He wasn't speaking with Sidney after all, but with Rob - a dreadhead with an endearing accent and a friendly charm about him that left most conversations feeling natural and engaging. He self-deprecated in a manner that Isaiah expected was more for the fun of it than attempting to downplay himself, for the man reacted in a fiery manner when Isaiah volunteered criticisms. He knew he was good, and Isaiah could admit that readily. But only if asked to, of course- he wouldn't want to inflate that ego needlessly.
"Do you play with her, then? I know she played piano." And piano could have a presence in punk music. But Sidney held a vast preference for mixing, so Isaiah expected that any arrangement with his ex was more likely to involve her mixing the end result rather than playing along for the raw material. His mind slowly worked into a strange detachment that justified Rob's living situation with Sidney as more a daydream than reality. He considered it a passing fancy that he himself would never experience - he imagined that, even with the courier jobs that Rob might take once in a while, the pair of them would never become great friends. Isaiah held a secret about himself concerning an alternate identity that he imagined Rob lacked, even though logic informed him that it was possible, if improbable.
Imagining Rob in tights and a bodice improved his mood.
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