[R] Don't Even Think About It (Tress & Jack) | Page 1 | ♥ In the Name of the Moon! ♥ | Guild Forums

Kitomyx

Questionable Loiterer

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Posted: Thu Jun 22, 2017 11:51 pm

Tress sighed to herself as she straightened out clothing that had been disheveled by the many hands that had pawed their way through the rack. She fixed coats in the dressing room that had been turned inside out before returning them to their proper places within the store. After checking that all the garments were being displayed correctly in size order and that everything was either folded with shop-quality expertise or suspended neatly from their hangers, Tress went around checking on the customers.

This was her least favorite part of her job working as a store clerk at a clothing retail store. She could happily keep track of inventory or sort through stock in the back room any day. Price changes were no problem and she actually enjoyed inputting sales information into the database. Record-keeping and paperwork were no obstacle to her. No - it was social interaction that caused her to falter.

It wasn't that Tress was shy; in fact, quite the opposite. She thought she knew what to say, but peoples' reactions to her words suggested otherwise. More than one customer had walked out when she'd been asked and given her honest opinion on how something looked on them. Before she'd even had a chance to recommend something more flattering, they'd left.

Customers weren't the only ones who felt the young woman was socially inept. Fellow co-workers had often told her she had no tact or asked her to improve upon her customer service skills. The only problem was that when Tress asked how, she discovered that people weren't like numbers or clothing or anything else that was easily managed or counted or organized. They were too complex, illogical, and chaotic. How was she supposed to make sense of them?!

With nothing else left on her list of things to do, however, Tress was forced to go around offering assistance to people browsing clothes wherever she could. Adjusting her square-framed glasses, she silently prayed no one would ask her for her honest opinion. She'd learned long ago that that whenever they asked that, it wasn't really what they wanted to hear.

wuthering gee

((Hope this is okay! Please let me know if there's anything I need to change. heart ))

Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2018 12:49 pm

There is no such thing as vanity in a world with no reflections.

Proustite had been lost in the rift for only Metallia knew how long. Knocked unconscious at the time of his disappearance, there was no way to tell which way was north or west or where he was relative to the exit. He woke up to the taste of bile with a sprained ankle and a roll of salami tucked inside his coat pocket. He knew that he had nearly died, but the fact of that had not struck home until he saw himself in Moonstone's bathroom mirror.

There was no weight in his face. No muscle in his chest or his shoulders or his legs. His body had almost cannibalized itself, and an injury to the right side of his face had robbed him of the use of an eye. The scar there was new and still healing- a mostly vertical cut that started at his hairline and came to an abrupt end at his eye socket.

Jack knew that he was ugly. Had taken some pains since returning home to restore some of his former beauty. His hair was still thick enough that he had a reason to the go barber. He'd paid for a shave and a cut with money from under his mother's mattress, and had swiped some of his sister's makeup to help put colour in his cheeks. He still looked like a skeleton, but at least he looked like a well-groomed skeleton.

The next step was to acquire pants that fit.

And so Jack found himself in one of the changing rooms of Tress's clothing store, staring at himself in the mirror and buttoning up a new pair of jeans. He had been wandering in and out of the room with different articles of clothing (mostly men's pants, sometimes t-shirts and occasionally ladies' sweaters and denim) for the better part of the afternoon.

He was not shy about asking for help, and often requested that one of the staff grab something new for him to try on.

Jack poked his head out of the change room and beckoned Tress closer with a wave of his hand. It was friendly. Not too demanding or expectant. He smiled at her, and then spun around.

"How does my butt look in these?"

He no longer really had a butt.

Kitomyx

SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT

wuthering gee

Fanatical Loiterer

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Kitomyx

Questionable Loiterer

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Posted: Wed Feb 21, 2018 4:33 pm

As the last staff member who had been assisting Jack had been called away to locate something in the back room inventory, Tress found herself beckoned to and tried not to sigh. The fact that the man was friendly made her more cautious. At least with people who were grumpy or ill-tempered, she didn't feel all that much of a failure when they started screaming at her because she could convince herself that they would have been just as unhappy with anyone else.

People like this pleasant-seeming man, however, made her feel that much more anxious. How she wished he wouldn't smile at her like that. As she approached to see what he wanted, steeling herself against his potential requests, she tried to calm herself down. If he had simply asked her to change something out or if a design came in a different size, Tress would have been fine. She knew the store well enough and going to fetch something or give information would have been a cinch.

But no - he just had to ask her opinion. And on his butt, no less. Didn't he have some significant other or family member who could give him advice like that? Was teasing her, asking her to look at it? Was this some elaborate prank?

Her freckles disappeared in her ruddy complexion as her face heated up in embarrassment. She fought to keep her composure, adjusting her square glasses on her face and looking away uncertainly - anywhere but at his posterior. "Excuse me, sir," she began, English accent thickening her words, "but isn't that a rather...intimate question to ask a stranger?"

Just then a couple of her co-workers passed behind her, laughing quietly to themselves. They cast both Tress and her customer some mocking and suggestive looks. Tress's green eyes narrowed and she took a deep breath before turning her full attention to the man. She could do this. If she made him mad, at least he would leave sooner and likely never return again.

However, when she regarded his figure, her brows knit in apprehension. "What butt?"

wuthering gee

((LOL my turn to be sorry OTL))

Posted: Sat Jun 23, 2018 6:15 am

Jack watched Tress's expression in the mirror on the wall in his change room. Knew the instant she hesitated and her cheeks started turning to red that he was going to like her - or, at least, that he was probably going to enjoy himself with her.

'What butt?' she asked.

What butt?

WHAT BUTT?

Just kidding. Jack laughed. He knew that he didn't have a butt. He was generally a fan of dramatics, but passed on the opportunity to make a scene in favour of continuing to improve his appearrance. And he needed new clothes.

Vanity before glory, that's what he always said. (No he didn't.)

"You're right," he sighed, "its vanished."

A pause.

"Where are you from? England?"

Kitomyx

wuthering gee

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Kitomyx

Questionable Loiterer

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Posted: Sun Jul 01, 2018 11:50 pm

Tress blinked dumbfoundedly at the man's response, her face still so ruddy it clashed with her tawny hair. His subsequent question had her even more perplexed.

"Sir, are you sure you haven't ingested any harmful or mood-altering substances within the past few hours?" she asked, her brows drawing together in some concern. "I fail to see what my place of origin has to do with your lack of visible posterior. But yes, I'm from England. Specifically, Brighton, England."

Frowning at his ridiculous pair of pants, she sighed heavily. "Let's see if I can't find where that missing behind of yours has gotten to, shall we?" She would have loved to just leave the man there on the errand of seeking a more flattering pair of pants, but her pride as a store clerk wouldn't allow it. Not when the fellow could have had some serious mental issues or been under the influence of some drug.

Obviously, he needed to be watched until someone he knew came to get him or she could otherwise confirm he was fit to act on his own without supervision. In the meantime, Tress turned toward a nearby rack of clothes that had been rejected or left behind by previous customers who had used the dressing rooms.

Watching the strange man out the corner of her eye, she tried to determine what size he wore while simultaneously making sure he didn't seem about to do anything rash. "Is there a certain style of clothing you have a preference for, sir?"

wuthering gee

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