Episode 3: Sectors/Shops

[Amorru Reyes]

"Mhm. Bleach and a haircut, right? You're early."

"Uhm. Sure." Amorru held a hand aloft to shield his eyes from the light, realizing he'd make a mistake in assuming the power dynamics within the shop but too distracted to care. "Mind dimmin' the lights, love? Dreadful loud, they are."

"I know you didn't order anything. As I was saying, I'm Alice, from the restaurant.  I knew the previous owner was leaving so I was glad to hear you were taking the place over.  So I brought you some coffee and some homemade pastries and mini-quiches on the house, kind of as a hello and all of that.  Just being neighborly and all."

The mousy woman turned to address Amorru directly. He scanned her up and down, appreciating the height difference between them, before serving up his best "I don't care" expression.

"If you want to stop by after your styling session I'd be happy to get you some coffee and a meal on the house as well. You look like you could use a good meal."

Amorru eyed the woman leaving the barber's suspicously as she exited the shop. Somewhat disappointed with her reacting to his boorishness with a genuine invitation and the promise of a free meal (something of a rare commodity as of late) Amorru thought quickly and came to the only logical conclusion. "Well she's a cheery lot. You know, I'd check that coffee if I were you. Figure I know conspiracy to poison when I see it. Comes with the territory an' all that. Well. You know. So. Figure I haven't had a proper shave in weeks. Sure it won't be much trouble." Amorru leaned in, nonchalantly scratching his stubble. "Say, you wouldn't be able to interest me in a drink, hm? To relax. For the chair. Makes me nervous, all bound at the neck and surrounded by blades and all." Amorru tried to put on his best puppy dog eyes while simultaneously squinting against at the lights and wasn't quite successful at either attempt.

[Moira Chambers]

Location: Prime Cuts, Sector 3B, Shop 6B

"Mind dimmin' the lights, love? Dreadful loud, they are."

Moira ignored the request. She didn't even get the chance to dignify it with a response, because Alice from Alice's restaurant spoke to her, seemingly unshaken by the unpleasant episode that had just unfolded.

"I know you didn't order anything. As I was saying, I'm Alice, from the restaurant. I knew the previous owner was leaving so I was glad to hear you were taking the place over. So I brought you some coffee and some homemade pastries and mini-quiches on the house, kind of as a hello and all of that. Just being neighborly and all."

"Oh." Moira felt sheepish. "You're too kind."

Alice addressed the rude customer with more warmth and grace than Moira could have managed in her shoes. As she watched the friendly woman leave the store, a host of more cordial things to say suddenly flooded her brain now that it was too late to make a better first impression. The day was off to a wonderful start.

"Well she's a cheery lot. You know, I'd check that coffee if I were you. Figure I know conspiracy to poison when I see it. Comes with the territory an' all that. Well. You know."

"Right. I'm sure poisoning potential customers is great for business."

"Say, you wouldn't be able to interest me in a drink, hm? To relax. For the chair. Makes me nervous, all bound at the neck and surrounded by blades and all."

Moira tried not to flinch at the remnants of last night's booze in the man's breath. Her thoughts were drawn to the bottle of wine she'd cracked open that morning, the second bottle of wine waiting for its turn, and the scotch she kept stashed away in case of real rough days -- none of which were appropriate for her to have around her workplace, not as a hairdresser and definitely not as a medical professional. She mustered up a smile she hoped didn't look quite as passive-aggressive as it felt.

"You're in luck." She gestured towards the tea set on the small table to the side. "Our tea of the day is lavender zhū chá. Very soothing. Please help yourself, it's on the house."

The man could take it or leave it; while he made up his mind, Moira turned to Orville, who was still holding Alice's bag of goodies. She recognized the look of longing in his eyes.

"Better tuck in while it's still warm," she told him. "Go ahead and have a bite. I'm not hungry right now. Maybe later."

Orville's face lit up, and he retreated to the corner of the waiting couch to enjoy his impromptu snack break. Moira turned her attention back to the customer.

"Have you had your hair dyed recently? When's the last time you washed it?"

[Alese “Alice” Westergaard]

Location:Grave Discoveries (Sector 3A - Shop 11A)

Alice was out and about doing what Alice did.  She had seen Jedikiah for breakfast, which was always a pleasure.  The usual breakfast crowd had been tended to so now she was out making rounds.  She had stopped by Prime Cuts and dropped off some treats and now was out and about again like Little Red Riding Hood with another basket of goodies.

Her normally wild mane of dark hair had been pulled back into a neat chignon, held by a silver comb.  She was dressed in white leggings with black knee high boots and a dress of powder blue with a crenelated skirt, the hem chased with cut outs of rabbits and pocket watches circling round.  A tidy apron nipped in at her narrow waist. The neckline was barely modest enough to keep the place family friendly.  Her nametag boldly proclaimed her to be "Alice".  Her make-up was minimal, aside from the kohl black eyeliner in a bold cat's eye accenting her bright green eyes.

She made her way into Grave Discoveries, moving up the neatly laid out aisles like a kid in a candy store, a very well behaved kid.  There was no skipping and definitely no touching, though her eyes took in everything, lingering longingly on the actual books.  She made her way through the store without taking too long, looking for the proprietor or a clerk, careful that her bag of goodies didn't bump into anything.

[Angela Evans]

Location: Rembo Dojo, Sector 3A, Shop 2A

"I'm Jedikiah. Alice's is wonderful isn't it? The Glutton in me wants to order one of everything and redefine overindulgence," The owner of the Dojo began, rambling on about something they hadn't inquired about. Their brows twitched in the middle, the hint of a frown pushed away before it could form. Slowly, the stranger turned their chin away a bit, just enough to glance toward the door in the vague direction of the eatery. "Quite," they murmured in some approximation of an affirmative answer. When the man bowed, they turned to face him once more, feeling of the dufflebag bumping against their calf as they stood there. In response, their chin dipped curtly in a nod of greeting barely mirroring the deep and polite bow he'd offered them.

"How may I help you? the proprietor asked. The stranger reached across their chest to take the bag's handle from their other hand, then slipped the now free palm into their suit pants pocket. "Do you rent?" they asked him, tilting their head to the side in question before glancing over his shoulder to watch the student working on their form and figure deeper in the dojo.

[Jedikiah Rembo]

Location: Rembo Dojo, Sector 3A, Shop 2A
She moved with Grace. Not a woman's grace of form, nor that of a man carefully gliding smooth. No, it was a careful completely balanced grace, one that had training, practice, and years of movement without concentration. Inherent now. Ingrained.

And a seriousness not of purpose, but of the lack of everything else. Like a curious animal that had never known fear? Such things exist. And are they dangerous, Rembo wondered for a moment. Probably, if mostly to themself.

"Do you rent?" Jedikiah was asked as there was a tilting the head to the side in question before glancing over his shoulder to watch the student.

"Yes." He said plainly. His smile relaxed but did not go away, his eyes stayed on her eyes even as the stranger's entire torso was taken in. In the constant state of readiness was what he called it when asked by students about the proper form in which to always be ready. In all positions be ready.

Rembo motioned with his hand at the vacant side of the Dojo. "Now if you wish." His eyes did not look away. "Or in a few minutes after my student finishes." Space and time was available elsewhere. Did she seek instruction? Perhaps, but more likely, "And if it is complete privacy you require, I can excuse myself as well."

[Amorru Reyes]

Location: Prime Cuts, Sector 3B, Shop 6B

"Right. I'm sure poisoning potential customers is great for business."

"You're in luck." "Our tea of the day is lavender zhū chá. Very soothing. Please help yourself, it's on the house."

Amorru settled in the chair as the woman spoke and squinted as if to hide from the saggy-skinned and glassy-eyed aberration leering at him from the mirror. He considered what a mess he'd made of Galileo Duschane's good looks in the past few weeks and felt a tinge of shame at what the poor lad was going to feel about it when Amorru gave it back. Thinking Persephone Lordling Thoughts, Amorru spoke in Galileo's posh, American blue blood accent. "Everyone knows that all depends on the pedigree of patronage you intend to keep. Erm... Zhū chá, was it? Lavender? Lavender it is, then. Figure everything aside vanilla and cloves is fine."

Somber, sober thoughts whispered all around, without a drink in which to drown. From spoiled, entitled brat, to spoiled, entitled man, every misstep in his life was seen, from the pen to the sword, the Dame Stevani Song, Doctor Grace Halladay, and all points and persons between. The ones he crossed, all those he lost, and the innocence every step he took cost; them that cried as they called him a liar, and all those shot down as he dodged the crossfire. Charity's rich, noble blood staining her dress and his hands. That stray Shiba he kicked, gone after Good Dogs set up their stand.

"You said a shave, then?" The redhead asked as she opened a straight razor.

"Right. Figure a little stubble suits me but let's clean it up a bit." Amorru watched the mirror as the woman pressed the blade to his throat. "Here?" "Little higher. Higher. There it is. Perfect!" The woman met his bloodshot eyes and nodded, stepping back as she drew the blade across Amorru's throat. Thick, velvety ropes of crimson sprayed across the mirror and poured down his unwashed shirt. Amorru's ringed thumb rose up in the air, sanguine spittle saturating his lips as he sputtered. "P-p-perfect. Cheers!"











At least, that's the way he thought it ought to go.

"Have you had your hair dyed recently? When's the last time you washed it?"

"Do what? Who died? Oh. No. Ahem. No, why? And well, I suppose it's been a day or two. Took a bath before the shindig but can't remember..." Amorru lifted one arm, sniffed, and recoiled in immediate regret. "Right. Shampoo it is then. I'll have my tea while it dries."