( open ) i come up hard baby, but now i'm cool

[missio]

CHARACTERS: marcus keane and anyone!
LOCATIONS: b-shop, the record store for cool kids who loves sick jamzzz
WARNINGS: none
SUMMARY: marcus gets a job at the record store. his previous employment involved screaming at demons and the creation of soft padded rooms, so his customer service skills could probably use some work.

[ one afternoon marcus wanders into the record shop in town for the seventh time in a week and accidentally walks out with a part-time gig after a heated debate about mod revival. he's become something of an odd fixture at b-sides over the past month, if only because for someone who's never done anything at low intensity he doesn't seem that committed to working. sweeping floors? please. reorganizing? sometimes, and with an incredible amount of bickering with other associates about genre sorting.

mostly, though, he can be found seated in a stool behind the counter with his feet up and a tall newspaper as ann sexton or james ray or marvin gaye blares too loud over the speakers. for a presumable salesperson he doesn't seem too worried about sales numbers. his face is almost never visible above the newspaper, although he's polite when someone tries to fetch his attention and good-humored with everyone who catches him in the middle of not giving a shit.

anyone who frequents the record shop might want to tell him to turn it down a little. or ask for recommendations. or try to make a purchase. or just say hi if you know him. some of the local teenagers have found that he's also terrifically easy to cajole with snacks, so he's also rarely seen without an open container of something that can be eaten with his hands. it's probably a good thing the shop owner is incredibly chill, because it doesn't look like he's gunning for employee of the month anytime soon. ]

Comments

[missio]

[ 9___9 he can practically hear kimberly's words in kat rance's voice, too.

but he huffs in amusement and leans back. ]

Honestly. Only a modern American adolescent would say you can't dance to soul music.

[recoined]

( oh my god, he's so obnoxious. she's rolling her eyes so hard they're pretty much guaranteed to pop right out of her skull and flop onto the ground like twin hackysacks.

also: who's kat rance? )

Yeah, dad, honestly. You can't actually dance to that garbage, you just lean sadly from side to side while your partner tries to count their ration coupons. Haven't you ever heard of Kanye?

[missio]

[ marcus is good with young people in weird ways, not in the least because some of them cotton onto the fact that he's actually mostly a kid himself, someone who never outgrew his own adolescent obnoxiousness. it's been odd, living this quiet life in cadelle. he has too much energy, a mission back home, purpose. here, with a soft bed and guaranteed three meals every day, it's like the universe wants to put him out to pasture, as kindly as it can.

the last time he thought he'd been retired was the casey rance case. the sister, kat rance, didn't trust him at first. too worried about casey, who struggled in the grips of demonic possession. and then he and tomas (mostly tomas, he recollects, with some pride, a little envy, some misplaced bitterness, an upswell of affection) had saved her. and then kat became another teenager in a long line of people who affectionately gave him shit for awhile, a tentative and true affection that only people who have been through unspeakable horror together can find mutual footing on, before he lost contact. he always eventually loses contact.

it'll be the same here too, once they leave. but even so. he likes kimberly. ]

No. But I have to ask, when exactly do you think I was born?

[recoined]

( she shrugs at first, a casual little gesture of inattention and uncertainty that doesn't mean much more than it seems to. but she doesn't answer right away, either; instead, her gaze drops down to the nail file in her lap, fingertips twisting it over and over to expose each painted side of the emory surface. )

I don't know. ( it irritates her a bit, if she's honest, that he's asked the question. how is she supposed to know that? ) Like, the twenties?

( it's a complete bullshit guess. she has absolutely no money on that answer whatsoever. )

Nobody wears a pedostache like that anymore, so...

[missio]

I bet you'd say that even if I had a foot of beard.

[ some kids, so critical of facial hair at a time when he's reasonably sure it can still be fashionable. he huffs and rests his chin on his hand, elbow on the counter. ]

I was born in '63. [ he fwips a hand out dismissively. there's a decided primness to his body language sometimes. he's gay as hell is why. ] Save that war ration talk for your nan.

[recoined]

True. ( she's not judging him, technically. she's just pointing out a fact. ) Nobody says 'nan' anymore either. And my grandma's in Fresno, not here, so I'm pretty sure she's not going to get it.

( the song in the background fades into quiet for a beat, just long enough to be noticeable before the next one plays. it's a new addition to her playlist; the artist is beyonce this time — or, more specifically, destiny's child. the telltale thump of independent ladies earns a wry grin at the corner of her mouth. )

You can't tell me you hate this.

[missio]

Oh yeah? And where are you back home, Fresno as well?

[ it's always nice to meet someone from a universe that vaguely approximates marcus' own, if it isn't actually his. it can be grounding, for someone as naturally suspicious of the city and his continued good fortune as marcus has been.

his eyes flicker up as the song changes. he grins as well. ]

I don't hate it. —I didn't hate the last one, either, mind. But also I have no idea what it is. [ what has two thumbs and doesn't know pop culture, it's meeeee ]

[recoined]

No. ( fresno's a bit far, and really boring. not that her own hometown was much better, but at least it had a bigger mall. ) Angel Grove. California, but not... the fun part, anyway. It's not LA or anything.

( she wishes. but things would have been very different if a giant gold monster had gone attacking buildings in los angeles. it probably would have made the national news, at least. there's something to be said for a sleepy town. )

Have you seriously never heard of Beyonce?