bigapplesauce | [open to multiple]

Current Location: November 18th
Current Music: Glaser's Bakeshop and Aziraphale's Bookshop

Entry tags:

[open to multiple]

Jess has pretty much scoped out every single bookshop on the entire island of Manhattan, or something close to it. He knows all the good places, weird little corners that have the most specific, enchanting things.

So the both good and bad thing about being in an alternate universe is that this no longer holds true. Some remain the same, but he keeps discovering new places that never existed where he comes from, whereas some of his old favourites are missing entirely. And then there's the shift of time that means some things would've been the same, but has changed in the past couple of years.

Having been here three weeks now, he feels like he's starting to get a handle on it, though. And books have, as always, provided a welcome distraction from the realities of his situation. He's gotten a tip for a place over on East 87th street, which is only fifteen minutes away from his apartment, so that's his main mission for today.

He's been told he should check out the bakeshop next-door as well, and once he sees it, he has no qualms about complying. He gets a coffee and some apple muffins and eats it there so he'll have energy for plenty of browsing afterwards.

And oh was that a good plan, because this shop is packed with books, and he foresees himself being here for several hours at least. He immediately braves the terrible lighting and dives right in.

[Find him in Glaser's Bakeshop or Aziraphale's Bookshop. Also, note Jess has an Interactivity riftpower, which means characters should find it really easy to start a conversation with him.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's not that she doesn't want to see Spike, because she definitely does. Half the point of taking her fifteens - the not federally mandated half - is going next door and soaking up her boyfriend's attentions. It's not like he has much else to distract him. He might be a little too good at cultivating an unpleasant atmosphere; it's been a while since a hapless would-be customer actually interrupted one of their mid-morning snacks-and-inappropriate-PDA sessions.

But she's feeling more run-down than usual... which, at this point, is either not saying much or saying something truly dire. And as much as she'd like to see her vampire - one of the few things that reliably makes her feel better - the thought of setting foot in that sunless, grotty bookshop is too much.

Instead, her eyes rove over the available window seats. It's a bright day out, and most of the little tables are spoken for, but one has an available seat. She doesn't recognize the guy occupying the other chair, which wouldn't normally be noteworthy. It's a big city, she's in the back a lot, and tourists are ever-present. But his shadows have a distinct otherworldly edge to them, and it is unusual to see a fellow Rifty at the shop for reasons other than her own specific invitation. Is it a coincidence, or is word actually getting around?

Well, only one way to find out.

She swings by the coffee station to pick up the cup of tea Joel has waiting for her (she's pretty sure he's Worried about her, and hasn't yet decided if it's annoying or endearing, but either way, she's not passing on the ready-made tea he keeps providing). She sees him glance towards mystery boy, and because she doesn't want him to think she's too much of an invalid to keep him on his toes, she asks, "Should I see if he's single?"

Joel gives her his best attempt at an unimpressed glare. "Go drink your tea."

"Not a 'no,'" she says, hoisting her cup in a lazy mock-toast as she turns back towards the window.

Okay, so. Time for some recon. There's probably a subtle approach, but she's too tired for subtlety, so she just plops down into the chair opposite. Even the weak, wintery sunlight feels delicious against her neck, and she leans into it a little as she sizes up the new guy. He's demolishing that muffin, which is a point in his favor. "Welcome to the legion of the universally displaced," she says dryly. "I'm Sunshine."

Jess is, as expected, reading when someone joins him, eyes fixed on the book ("The Typewriter Is Holy") while he tears off muffin pieces with his other hand. He doesn't look up when she sits down, but he does when she speaks.

It takes him a moment to determine whether 'universally displaced' is another phrase for rifty, or if she's referring to something else, but he quickly settles on the former. Partly because the recommendation for this place was given to him by someone in his rifty-populated building.

He's tempted to ask whether she'll make him happy when skies are grey, but he isn't feeling particularly flirty. Although she's cute, if a bit tired-looking and... is that flour? She must work here.

Finally he settles for just replying with the briefest of introductions: "Jess."

Okay, that's almost Con-level in terms of not mincing words. Then again, she did kind of spring herself on him. She wonders if he didn't get the Rift reference, or just isn't openly acknowledging it. Gods, how new is he? He does know, right? His shadows don't scream 'Rifty' as loud as others' do, and it belatedly occurs to her that he might not have made that drastic a leap, universe-wise. There's a chance - slim, but not nonexistent - that he could have just swapped one Manhattan for a very similar other one.

"So," she says, proceeding with a bit more caution, "when did you arrive?"

"About ten minutes ago," he answers, though given the way she asks it, he assumes that's not actually what she meant. Not unless she was checking to see if he'd gotten his order - which he obviously has.

"In the grander, cosmic scheme, three weeks," he adds, to not be completely contrary, and so she can stop skirting around it. He assumes these people - who he is now technically a part of - kind of band together over this. Not that that would be surprising, given you can't really complain about being 'universally displaced' to just anyone without them assuming you're nuts.

And he's funny. Be still, Joel's heart. But three weeks is an awkward milestone - short enough to still feel unsettled, long enough to start dispelling any pipe dreams of a quick trip home.

"Seven months," she says, briefly angling her cup towards him in a more understated mock-toast than the one Joel received. Speaking of dispelling pipe dreams. But look at her, she's got an apartment and a job and a vampire. It's not all doom and gloom. "How are you adjusting?"

Jess gives a low whistle at the length of her residency. That's gotta suck, but she's probably also pretty used to it by now. Jess is still messing up with assumptions that would've been true in his Manhattan but aren't here.

"Well, living on the Upper East Side is interesting," he answers with a shrug, closing his book and stuffing it in a pocket. He's not very stoked about being around all these rich people all the time, but it's nice not living in a shithole with only a mattress on the floor and five other people in the same room.

"So you do know the city," she says, nodding once. There's one private suspicion confirmed. It doesn't necessarily mean he's from some alternate Manhattan; he might just be familiar enough to know the neighborhoods. That's still saying something, though. In her universe, pretty much the entirety of Manhattan is in the same godsbloodyawful condition; singling out any particular borough as better or worse would be ludicrous. "Did you live here before?"

He nods as he pops the last piece of his muffin in his mouth and washes it down with a gulp of coffee. "Born and raised," he affirms. "Actually didn't physically move at all when I got here, just jumped forward about a decade while I was crossing the street." He leans back in his chair and then adds in a mock-chipper voice: "And then I got hit by a car!"

Sunshine lets out a mirthless huff of air. Gods and frigging angels. As if the adjustment isn't hard enough - and she can easily imagine how kali goddamn weird it would have been if she'd found herself in a slightly different version of New Arcadia that lacked her friends and family - he also got run down by a far more literal welcome wagon that anyone deserves (well, okay, some people probably would have deserved it, but not this guy, as far as she can tell).

"Shit," she says, with feeling, while giving him a dubious once-over. He doesn't look like he's nursing any serious injuries, but if he's been officially handed the keys to a Rifty building, he must have gone through one of the resident angels. She doesn't think either of them would have just left him to internally hemorrhage. Still, though. "Are you... okay?" she asks, brow furrowed.

"Yeah I'm fine, it wasn't nearly as dramatic as it sounds," he answers with a half-shrug. "I've had worse." He did temporarily think he was hallucinating or something, considering he hit his head and then was told he was in a different universe, but turns out he wasn't.

"What about you?" he asks, since he's not the biggest fan of talking about himself, nor receiving sympathy for someone he barely knows the name of.

Okay, then. She's a little taken aback by his flippancy - or maybe she's just disappointed that he didn't follow up that swell hook with a more detailed story - but whatever. It's not like she's all that keen on discussing assorted events in which violence was visited on her person.

"It put me down on a bench." Like a frigging gentleman, comparatively speaking. "Hell of an adjustment, though. Manhattan isn't really... habitable... in my universe." And that's on top of the fact that no city in America has this kind of sheer population density - not since the Wars, anyway.

"What do you mean?" he asks curiously. He's well acquainted with the idea of different universes and all that, but most he's spoken to have either not had a Manhattan, or it's been pretty similar to his own and this one.

Sunshine briefly entertains the thought of telling him it's not as dramatic as it sounds. It is dramatic, though - that, and complicated. Does she really want to get into all the Other-related details? Does he?

She pares it down. "It was hit hard during the Wars," she says with a one-shouldered shrug. "Most heavy population centers were."

Spike is among the stacks giving himself something to do. He'd been waiting for Sunshine to arrive with increasing impatience. She doesn't show up every day, but he's gotten used to the days when she does. Especially now, when she hasn't been feeling her best, he's anxious about her not showing up.

He can't exactly organize shelves here, but sometimes just sitting around reading isn't enough for him, so he's arranging a couple shelves with themes like 'books that I created' and 'things I want to read eventually but not right now' and 'ask Aziraphale why this book is even here'.

He's slotting a compilation of poetry from 1975 onto one of the shelves when Jess comes in. It takes him a moment to get back around to the desk, but when he does, the guy has already wandered into the stacks. He sighs and follows him. If Sunshine's not going to show, might as well take his time with this one instead of giving the usual 'we're closed' excuse.

He finds him and stands at the end of the row of shelves, blocking the little light that's aiding his search. "Looking for something?"

Jess looks up when addressed - apparently Billy Idol has come to check up on him - though mostly because he can't actually read the spines now. Not that it was easy before, given the terrible lighting in the place, and several of the books being worn.

"Juust browsing," he answers perfunctory. Then he pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns on the flashlight function, lighting up the book titles and continuing to browse.

What the hell kind of arsehole is this? He just pulled out a flashlight like he's challenging Spike.

...is that actually his phone, though? That's interesting. He wonders if his phone can do that too. "How do you do that with your phone?" He could probably ask Sunshine, but he'd rather not have to and hey, maybe he can annoy the guy out and get some information at the same time.

Edited 2016-02-19 06:03 (UTC)

"It's an app that uses the camera flash," he answers without looking up. Phones have gotten a lot better in the decade that Jess skipped through, and out of the many things that have changed, he found that fairly easy to adjust to.

"Sunshine said it was alright if I browse," he adds, since he assumes this is the guy she was speaking of. There's enough weird stuff here that he would've endured a lot of bothering before he left, but he'd rather not have to.

He's not exactly sure what's happening on his face, but it's some mixture of surprise and indignation. "She did not!"

He straightens, then stalks forward as quickly as the piles of books on the floor will allow him and grabs a fistful of the guy's hoodie. He yanks him back out of the stacks and towards the door a few steps before letting him go. Who the fuck is this that he thinks he can annoy him with a stupid flashlight app and use Sunshine against him? She's obviously busy, or she would have come over earlier, which means that this guy is lying to him. "We're closed. Get out."

Jess had been put under the impression that saying that would get Spike off his back, not the opposite. He stumbles for a moment as he is literally shoved towards the door, but at least he manages not to trip over the book.

"What the hell is your problem, man?" he asks, stuffing his phone back in his pocket, his fight-or-flight instinct leaning dangerous close to 'fight' at the moment.

Ugh. This guy is squaring up like he's ready to go and Spike really isn't in the mood to play around. He steps forward and throws a punch that hits across the guy's jaw, hopefully with enough force to convince him not to stick around.

The punch is unexpected enough that Jess has no time to dodge properly, only jerk away in a way that means Spike's fist partly glances off rather than hitting him with full force. It still sends Jess stumbling into bookshelves, but he wastes no time before charging at Spike, attempting to grapple, wrestle and punch whatever part of him that's convenient.

He doesn't actually give a shit about this guy, but he rarely backs down from a fight (especially when someone starts it by punching him), and he may have a lot of pent-up aggression from his current situation. Well, here's something for him to take it out on.

Well shit, this kid is strong. Fortunately his technique is something like a flailing parrot. He falls back against the desk, knocking over a pile of books on impact. He catches a couple punches before he can knock the guy back again. He kicks at what's available to him, which happens to be a shin and then a kneecap.

It's enough of a distraction for him to throw another punch at the guy's face.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[open to multiple]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject