Welcome to Gaia! ::

It must've seemed like he'd waited for it, the last hemi in a hatchback and too-blue-supra to peel off. He sure as ******** hadn't been there before. Didn't help for shits or giggles that he stepped off the concrete canopy that sat covering the pumps n parking like he was stepping offa an inch of air---

No super-hero landing required, just a sure stride on thick heels.

His approach had jaws music behind it, that faint crescendo of eerie violin strings followed up by the duunnn dunnn… duuuunnnn duun… duuunnnnnnnn dun dun dun--- of an earthy shark prowling the poorly lined tarmac of a now empty lot. The view of his form slashed messily by the limeade flavors of neon lights. Their glow certainly didn't make him look any friendlier; what with the batwings, n tattoos, n dragging locs tipped with steel, n -- Albite pulled something from nothing, some cowry shell covered sash that smelled faintly of the beaches in Kribi. He tied that mess of hair the ******** up, best he could, before shoving open the doors like he meant business.

If only his face didn't scream Baby Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo -- like the song was running on a nauseating repeat behind big auburn eyes creased with smile lines, his smile creased with even bigger smile lines.

"Holy ********, the pickle juice is real----Wait-wait-wait, you! My man, my brother, do you or do you not have spicy syrup for your slushies?" and yeah he had to get back to Faustite quickly! The poor thing. All half starved and flamed out atop where he'd left him. His fireiest of brands had sent him to get food, n' Albites only remaining cell -- the little one bobbing about against all the empty of his skull -- screamed 'feed him like a pregnant lady, they get all the best calories!' and also -- 'gas stations never close' -- so here he was, walking into the least creepy late night establishment he'd ever seen.

Even if the backdrop of TV noise did make his hackles itch like a haunting was approaching...

All gas stations had hauntings, or bodies in the back fridge, or hook-handed-slashers waiting in the dumpsters nearest the car washes. He didn't care if he was an Eternal Senshi of the highest order he was not dealing with that!

Focus -- man -- food - paying -- food --- Faustite!

F o c u s!

"My guy, you're the most cultured person I've met to date--" that wasn't entirely true, but for Waru's tastes? When dealing in the realms of indulging in late night snackitude, and whatever strange commodities did not involve floor roaches, snake piss, and the varying degrees of 'but why!?' moments he could recall his beau'd mentioned gnoshing on outta sheer desperation during 'its too ******** late for this' trips.

Cause a fire needs feeding like lungs need air like---

Alluvthat meant Waru considered the guy to be a godamned savant of the stock-hand, corner-store clerk variety. Or maybe that the gas station was a grease stain above the rest? Except no. The parking-lot wasn't filled with shopping carts, there were no obvious clothes in boxes beyond the backlot railings, the amount of discarded lotto tickets near the bins had seemed minimal...

Someone clearly cared here. Paid their people enough to care. Hired people that sat middle ground of being unobtrusively friendly so as not to make a guy feel like they were being followed by extra sets of eyes. The man behind the counter was getting gold stars and punch card points in Ablites book already. He'd probably pay for s**t tonight instead of just bamphing out -- no need to hassle someone who was prepared to point out the chamoy n fixins without needing to be hunted out from their plain sight hiding spot, middle of their tenth smoke break of the hour.

Not that he'd have blamed the worker if he had been! He envied not the unavoidable stressors of late night attendants; servants of the 247. But he needed swiftness tonight, not attitude.

"I can't believe they stock this place, like, with condiments even!?" astonishment wound round delight of every spoken word, even if it was mostly to himself, and Albite paused briefly, mid-focus on the beckoning delights of frazil-racha, razzle-red, *fried pickle*; slushes with enough bug-blended food coloring to make his star-cursed ancestors and mother weep. Paused because he had to, because the top-a-tio did not get missed. That deserved a ******** smile, less manic, more genuine and the sort of snort that spoke of being surprised to find a night-shift worker with any sense of -- if not self preservation -- then at least humor.

"Never topped a tio before–” let the tease linger even as he stooped to punch the offered code, marveling openly at the preparedness of the place, because it was (in Albites official opinion) a straight up sin to have access to a working drinks machine n not go on and make himself something with layers like a rainbow and a box of nerds candies mixed in; he deserved a cheat night, he'd run it off Burn it off, punch something with angel wings or tentacles or a lampreys teeth. He could find endless ways to keep himself busy. “Are they spicy?” he was going to turn Faustites tongue the bluest of blues, his boy was gonna love it! The gummy sharks were a very on the nose add to a fake sea of impossibly oceanic colors, a hint of sprite, a mixing of poprocks to accentuate the critter-y-ness of said ocean. The continued background noise of men droning on about the dangers of strangers, drugs, and the tragedy of loss was static din he tried to not to twitch at.

Better to focus on -- the heck was this guy anyhow?

"M'just ********' withchu--" tilted his head in such a way as only the tips of his dreads dragged as he loaded the clerk's counter with two of the mega-est of gulps. Auburn eyes roving for a nametag, or lanyard, or badass nordic necklace with an axe n wolf clasp. He caught seven'o clock shadow, brown moppiness, piercings..."--whas'urname?" asked all casual like even as he twisted to gaze at the ailes behind him, as if even when speaking he couldn't help but be in some sorta motion. A lazy loom that let him twist back on his heels n beeline for -- Chocolates, because funny melting proteins. Chips, because calories. Hotdogs? No. Not tonight.

They had blood orange brisk.
Which meant he should be nice! Introduce himself, catch the guys name, make sure no accidental accidents happened accidentally. A database entry. An order of protection....

It felt like a weird ********' thing to think about, because he hated making entries (making people make entries for him) like he hated thinking about making entries, but? What ever was the point of being able to leap tall buildings in a single bound if he couldn't also protect the one or two buildings he didn't want destroyed in all that leaping, and of course the people in that building! Of course! Like this dude in particular; the man, the myth, the late night store clerk that actually ******** kept things stocked.

"M'Praxidike -- for the ones in white. Albite, for the ones in -- not --" whimsical words waived over a distracted shoulder as he was wrist deep in deciding between 'the hottest hot ones' with just a hint of dill and 'cool ranch', because classics were classics. He was too busy not thinking about whether he made sense to actually care if it made sense. Didn't feel any need clarify on details. Whether it was a fetish club for the winged-loving, tiara wearing, scantily clad variety of people that sure as ******** did exist in the city. He was sure the guy would forget about him like a fever dream till he showed up next time around. "--not that it matters any, but yanno? Just in case it ever does! Names n such can be important. Like condiments..."

lizbot

I ******** love Todd - just, ohmygoodness yes and sorry this took so long from me!

‘You too can prevent forest fires!’

The less important parts of his brain screamed about how all sorts of ‘dare worthy’ PSA type commercials reminded him of Smoky the bear. It was something he could easily compare it to — but only if forest fires could’ve been prevented by bike helmets and weren’t shown with exaggerations of different sized eggs falling from great heights and smashing yolkily across pitch black tarmac.

Albite could’ve stomached that better, actually, if the commercial in the background’d had any eggs or helmets in it at all? It would’ve been infinitely more entertaining, instead of off-puttingly bizarre. The narrator was too pleasantly chastising; all to an accompaniment of car horns and the cries of the anguished as a backdrop.

And carnival music— the haunting, serial killer, ice cream clown kind — only with less balloons and more macabre monkey motif. Woe was one who failed to follow the rules and live in the bike lane, or didn’t look both ways twice before crossing a properly demarcated street with lights, licenses, reflective gear.

The PSA was equal parts twilight zone and dystopian as ******** — Waru was haunted by it whenever he gave it enough mind. Thankfully ‘Store Clerk’ was becoming Todd and Todd was talking, what a great guy! Good enough to give him a whole first name and a distraction from the trap of a sepia tone, static tv screen.

“Todd — I like that,” pleased notes as he perceived Todd with less scrutiny, more haphazard, peripheral ease. Todd wasn’t a threat, wouldn’t give him any trouble, was chill with his whole self just vining about like a high as ******** bee in the store. Suchaniceguy! Inevitably cool ranch classic won out, paydays, nerds (the gummy rope kind because yes!!) a pack of twixxlers and he swore they’d stopped making the lemonade flavor-filled kind, but? There it sat. Who knew how old — chances were Faustite was too on fire to mind!

Speaking of minds—

“Ooh, heh, okay, a combo name sounds badass. I hadn’t even considered that! ‘Praxibite’ would work fine,” thoughtful humm that ended high n lyrical, because one name was an asteroid — the other was a mineral — both were kinda like rocks, right? So of course a combination worked!

Todd was clearly a genius!

“Sides, doesn’t matter that much, yanno? If the name sticks’r’not.l, cause m’like that with names too. Faces are always easier, no way to mix ‘em up when none are exactly alike….” a sudden, deep consideration about multitudes of clones — triplicated paper cut outs looking too much the same -- except they would’ve been people!! “Except maybe twins…or triplets…clones…could you imagine that? Like, six whole people with the same face? It’d be so Syfy!”

And of course all of that made him think of Odd Todd, the guy from a movie who saw ghosts of murdered people, or was that an Even Steven thing?

Whatever —

They were chain linked thoughts that didn’t really need answers. The snacks got piled on the counter, the glass doors hazarded a glance for shadows or on omers or customers other than himself — a drink carrier was a secondary thought that he realized should’ve been a first thought for all that he’d probably need one for the trip back.

"I used to stay up late zoning out on old 'Leave it to Beaver' stuff, the kinda thing I could turn my brain off to cause eventually it's just background noise. Then there was always--like--the afterhours Twilight Zone, but then they came up with the new kinds? Idunno---" pondered softly because Orpah Black sounded good as anything, he hardly watched T.V anymore, had enough Syfy in real life as it was. Of course that made the stuff he did bother to kick back and put his brain to sleep to even more extra special delicious kinds of 'oops all berries' fun.

He went to haunted houses to remind himself that not all ghosts were real, and to monster-mash parties at the local reservoir, even though he knew for damn certain that the monster in that water was not, and never would be, Nessie. It was fun though, to seek out aliens and lizard people, just in case they did end up being really, really real. To pretend that he didn't know better, because he didn't know anything really so it wasn't actually pretending in the end!

"I'mma lookit up though, could always use something new to binge. Might even keep my attention long enough to keep me in on nights," a look at the items rung up, a look back to the arrangement of aisles; ticking off items on his fingers and semi-aloud and in his head all at the same time. Yep, he had what he wanted, more n enough to satiate himself n his boy for a minute or two---

"Oh, a loyalty program?" He blinked back to bags with the stores logos on them, patted down his own a**, his side pockets his - aha! A wallet! Worn, wadded, faded black and chained on and wrinkled all to hell. It sounded like it held change as much as it held some scant few dollars -- enough to hit up a gas station which was suffering from inflation as badly as all the restuv the world. Made Albite all the more glad for teleportation because the ******** were gas prices ever so damn high!? Even when he did work nights at Lina's place, he didn't work nearly enough to make nearly as much as it'd take to manage keeping his car on full...not with those prices....

Even if he did pick up extra shifts......

He couldn't right now. Not even if there was money in it, his time was smeared watercolor thin and he owed his devotions elsewhere than the typical nine-five.

"Sadly Todd, I've not got anything even remotely like an ID on me, but as far as me being a loyal to you customer goes? You've sure as ******** earned that tonight. Oh! How's this, next time I'm by? I'll signup for sure---" and that was a promise topped like a sundae-supreme with a wink, even if he didn't mean like anything to flirt. It was natural as breathing to do-so when people were being even the slightest bit nice to him. Todd seemed nice as as any guy could've come to be, seemed to not deserve any sorta hassle from anyone-- Waru wanted to ensure that, with all of his bones, to put it on blast like a billboard in neon lights.

"Cause I've a whole feeling I'll need discounts, like, for real. M'ah late night snack junkie and the gas station nearest my place has been closed for the longest damn time...dilapidated as ******** for years? Dunno, but this ones nice!" and he watched the little number counter with all the whistles n bells on it, thumbed a twenty free. He never liked the tap feature with cards because he would've impulse-bought his way outta house n home. Better to cash or chip or change---

“Nah Todd, you’ve been solid as ******** and I appreciate it,” he scooped the bags, the drink carrier, whole nine and making note of the card inside.making himself a silent promise to use that QR code because he would indeed need discounts for sure.

“You keep safe, I’ll make sure the — crowd of same as me types know how nice you keep this joint. It’ll be good business for all!” Cryptic as ******** but albite was all smiles for it, seemed happy as a clam at the bottom of the sea. Excited to filter feed on his junk food as he waived and made it for the doors. In the backdrop he noticed the monkey in a hospital bed — the boy who got all the lunches in grainy black and white with a terrifyingly hazy smile. He shuddered to think that entire damn commercial had been playing for a whole fourteen minutes, or was it fifteen? Thirty?

Didn’t much matter, he had places to go, people to be with, snacks to burn. He stepped into a shadow and — maybe it was a trick of the light that made it seem as though his big a** self straight up blinked outta existence.

Who knew —

Destiny City was freaky like that.