bigapplesauce | everything is normal everything is fine

Current Location: Aziraphale's bookshop
Current Music: October 5th

Entry tags:

everything is normal everything is fine

The list of things Jay can do is becoming frighteningly short.

Can't stay in the hospital. The nurses start to glare and resent him if he lingers too long, past the allowable time, reminding him passive aggressively that they can't provide him meals, reminding him that he's not family.

Can't keep staring at Tim's deathly still face. Can't keep gripping his cold hand wishing the fingers would twitch.

Can't stay at home all by himself, sitting on the floor, staring at the wall, out the window, at books without being able to read them.

Can't bear to trouble Greta or Daine or Bee, again.

Can't cry. Can't sleep.

And he knows, after a nervous, cursory glance at the online checking account the Rebels had set up for him, he's fast-approaching 'can't afford groceries'.

So he finds himself knocking on Aziraphale's door, confronting the apparently perpetually harried angel with awkwardly indirect questions about money. It isn't a vague wave of the hand, a magical handout that he's after, even though he had no idea what else he could possibly be asking for.

It catches him wholly off guard when Aziraphale offered him a job.

Now he stands outside the truly terrible-looking storefront, checking and re-checking the notecard on which the address had been scrawled. The bakery next door is right. This is the place.

He swallows and steps inside. He has no idea what to expect - if Aziraphale will even be in. He'd made brief mention of another employee, and that was it. Nothing about what Jay was going to do.

Apart from sell books, he supposes. That's probably obvious.

The door opens with a nasty creak and he steps into the dim, dusty, damp-smelling little hole.

"Uh..." He glances around, his stomach unsettled, his skin prickling. "Hello?"

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It's more or less an average day for Spike. He came in a little earlier than usual today so that he could mooch some pastries off of Sunshine in the morning, and now he's pleasantly fending off customers while flipping through books and waiting for Sunshine to go on her break. He doesn't look up when the guy comes in. By the smell he knows that it's definitely not Sunshine. Something about him smells vaguely earthy in a bland way, covered over with a disinfectant smell that reminds him of hospital corridors.

He turns to the next page in The True History of Chocolate and answers without looking up. "Not open today. Black mold infestation in the books." He continues in monotone, "That stuff can kill ya, y'know. You won't even know it's doing it. Just fall over a couple days from now. Stone dead."

Jay startles at the voice and spots the source a moment later, sitting a ways in, not even looking at him.

"Uh," he blurts, then takes another cursory step in. He's not inclined to turn around at a warning like that; years wandering through probably asbestos-laden abandoned buildings has left him pretty well numb to the idea of breathing toxic air. "S-sorry, I'm - Aziraphale told me to come here...? Is he..." He looks around, hoping to see a sign of the angel - as much as he feels dubious to unsettled around him, he'd be a familiar face and a reassurance that yes, he is supposed to be here.

Aziraphale's name is enough to get Spike to turn his book over and look up. Geeze, what a face. It matches the smell.

"He's not here." He looks over the kid- scrawny, weird, awkward, and wonders why Aziraphale would send him to do anything. Maybe he decided to send him on an errand just to make him go away. Spike doesn't really appreciate being tossed....whatever this is, but if Aziraphale actually needs something he probably shouldn't scare him off immediately.

He sighs and, since this E.T.-looking nerd doesn't seem to be able to say why he's here, asks "Why are you here?"

"Um." Jay shifts his weight uneasily as the guy looks him up and down. He must be Aziraphale's other employee, but he's - not remotely what Jay had expected. "He - he hired me. To work here. Starting today." He takes a few fumbling steps forward but doesn't try offering a hand. "I'm Jay? Jay Merrick. I, uh, I live in his building."

"No." Spike immediately pulls out his phone and sends a text to Aziraphale. Why does there need to be another employee? He's doing a bloody fucking excellent job on his own of getting people to bugger off. He doesn't need help.

He leans forward on his elbows and raises his eyebrows at Jay, his phone dangling from his fingers. "You're not needed. Does it look like business is booming here?"

Edited 2015-08-24 06:06 (UTC)

Jay stares at him, only able to hold eye contact out of staunch stubbornness. Aziraphale is the owner here, and he said Jay could work here, and goddammit, he needs the money and the distraction.

"You texting him?" he guesses, nodding toward the phone. "It's up to him whether I work here or not, right? Not you."

Challenging this guy does not seem like a particularly good idea, but when exactly has Jay been full of good ideas. He folds his arms across his chest, more for something to grip onto than to look sure of himself, but maybe that'll be a side effect.

"I'm the one that's got to put up with you. I get final say." Implying that if this goes badly, he definitely has the right to throw Jay out on his arse. That may or may not be true, but it feels good to imply it. His phone beeps at him and lifts his it, then snorts a laugh at Aziraphale's texts back. "He says you're too pathetic to work anywhere else." The description actually helps Spike to not feel so supplanted. This is charity work, not a replacement.

"You're hired. Pull up a chair, don't go in the back room. He gets testy about strangers back there." He says this, knowing that he's sitting in the only chair that isn't in the back room. It'll take Jay a little while to figure that one out.

Jay scowls until the man actually reads the texts, snorts, and informs him of Aziraphale's apparent feelings on the subject. His expression goes momentarily blank and his step falters, his arms falling to his sides.

"Wh- what?" he says, too softly, overridden by the man's sudden acceptance of him.

He stands there a moment, looking at the floor, trying to make sense of this. Aziraphale didn't exactly act like he liked Jay very much, but would he have said that? What is that even supposed to mean?

It might just be this guy continuing to try to mess with him. Well, he can take that. It's not like he hasn't spent his last five years around assholes.

"What do I call you?" he mutters, finally casting around the room for a chair.

"Spike." That answered, he sets his phone down and picks his book back up to start reading again. Every once in a while, he looks out of the corner of his eye at Jay's continued search for a chair. Bless him, he's really looking, and the store itself isn't making it a very easy search.

He chuckles and turns the page.

Spike. Of course. Wonderful.

There doesn't seem to be another chair present in this miserable mazelike little place. Jay heaves a sigh and immediately coughs on a load of dust, a cough which inevitably turns into a violent hack, leaving him doubled over, his entire body shuddering with the strain.

He hears the door creak, and barely manages to register a person stepping inside, taking one look at him (and really, he must look like he's dying of plague), and stepping back out.

Well, that went super great.

He straightens up slowly, his breathing finally normalizing. His throat burns.

"Shit," he mutters, and wanders over to the front desk, deciding to stand.

"Jesus," Spike says when Jay finally finishes with his coughing fit. "Are you dying? Is this like. A Make a Wish thing?" He lifts his head from his reading to smirk at him. "Last dying wish of creepy alien child, to finally get a job."

He chuckles, then nods his head in the direction of the nonexistent customer. "Nice getting rid of the customer, though." He's not entirely sure in that moment whether Aziraphale had told Jay that he doesn't actually want anyone to buy books from the bookshop, but a moment later Jay's reaction gives him his answer. Aziraphale didn't tell him anything about the shop at all.

Maybe Aziraphale's counting on Jay's natural charm to do the job for him.

Edited 2015-08-25 05:20 (UTC)

"I'm fine," grunts Jay, throwing Spike a cold look. "Thanks."

Whatever. He can do this. He spent months trailing around after Alex, even if he doesn't remember that, he's seen the evidence of just how much shit he put up with. He's not gonna let some asshole who calls himself Spike ruin the first shot at a real paycheck he's had in actual years.

He stands awkwardly behind the desk, trying to look for something to occupy his attention. There's a comically old computer, but he's not even sure it works. There is a lot of work that could be done, actually - mostly in the cleaning/rearranging department - but he really would rather not do that without having Aziraphale present.

Maybe he should find something to read. Spike's reading. People who work in bookstores read, right?

The door creaks open, saving him from the fearful task of actually looking through the shop.

"Hi!" he blurts at the newcomer, who stands in the doorway, looking faintly perturbed at the interior. If Spike's going to greet everyone the way he greeted Jay, then he's going to have to handle this head-on. "Can I, um, can I help you f-find something?"

"Yyyeah." The woman looks at him, at Spike, and then at him again, all with a dubious expression. "Do you have anything by Anne Rice?"

Jay resists, with great difficulty, the urge to look to Spike for help. "I'm - sure we do," he says haplessly, turning to the computer. He pokes at the keyboard, hoping the monitor will flicker on from sleep mode or something, but nothing happens.

"Um." He can't help himself. He glances back at Spike. "Uh."

Spike snorts when the woman asks for Anne Rice, of all things, and he lets Jay attempt to use the computer for a few moments out of genuine curiosity. He's never tried to turn the thing on himself. So far, he'd figured that it was more of a set piece than an actual piece of equipment. He's not even entirely sure that it's plugged in.

"Jay here is new," Spike says just as the woman seems like she might just go wandering into the stacks herself. He very much doubts that she will find any Anne Rice (he imagines Aziraphale might avoid vampire fiction for the sake of his vampire employee even if he were inclined to it...which he definitely isn't), but he doesn't want her finding anything else either.

He sighs extravagantly. "This is a rare and antiquarian bookstore. We don't carry popular literature unless it's very old or very hard to find. If we get in any mediocre vampire soap operas, they go out the next day to other bookstores." The two romance novels sitting next to him may hinder this particular argument a little, but he doubts that she'll linger long enough to see them.

The woman huffs out an exasperated breath, "Why didn't you tell me that when I walked in?"

Spike shrugs and goes back to his book. "You should check out the bakery next door. If you're lucky they'll have some cinnamon rolls left. Big as your head." His eyes flick back up to look at her then back to his book. "Well. Maybe not your head. A normal head."

Edited 2015-08-26 03:32 (UTC)

Jay's capacity for coherent thought screeches to a halt at Spike's increasingly aggressive contributions to the interaction. Oh god, what is he doing? Why is he doing this? Actually, fuck, Jay's pretty sure he knows why he's doing this. Trying to sabotage him, probably, get him dropped. Well fuck that.

"Excuse me?" says the woman, staring at Spike.

"S-sorry," blurts Jay, stumbling out from behind the counter. "Just - he's - don't mind him, I'm sure I could-"

"Don't mind him?" She turns her stare on him and he wilts slightly. "I want to speak to your manager."

Jay feels his chest tighten, and he draws a strained breath. "Uh, um, he's not in, actually-"

"Of course he's not." She turns haughtily and steps back toward the door. "You know what, nevermind. You're not even worth my time. Thanks for nothing."

Jay watches, forlorn, as she departs.

He turns around slowly and stares at Spike, despair very quickly shifting to anger. "What the hell was that?!" he demands.

Edited 2015-08-26 05:00 (UTC)

"Mm," Spike responds to Jay's yelling, not even looking up from his book. "Me doing my job." Maybe Jay will catch on after this, but Spike has a feeling that it'll take more of a clue than that to really understand the job he's been given.

He could explain, but at the moment he's more interested in this book. "This says that they used to grind chocolate up with all sorts of stuff? Even dinosaur bones. I bet that'd taste shite. Good dose of calcium and thousand year-old dirt."

"Wh-" Jay gapes at him, disgusted, before throwing up his hands. "Fine. Whatever. I'm going to... organize something."

He stalks off, aiming for the back of the store, as far from Spike as he can get. Organization is going to be a process, one he's pretty sure he shouldn't start alone or without consulting Aziraphale, so for now he settles for just studying the available titles. Spike's claim of it all being antiquarian was way off, but there's also no order that he can see. Many of the books are just in dilapidated, tenuous stacks on the floor. Everything is covered in a fine layer of dust. This place is awful.

And yet it's not bad, as distractions go. It's almost familiar. He's never been a tidy person, after all. His kitchen sink was always full of dishes, the faint odor of garbage always lingered in his front hallway. There was shit everywhere, all over the floor, its own sad little ecosystem, before Alex burned it all down.

He sighs and reaches out to straighten some of the books halfheartedly, studying the completely uncategorized titles and unalphabetized authors. This place is a sinkhole of entropy.

When her break finally rolls around, Sunshine slings her apron over its hook and makes a beeline for the bookshop, ignoring any knowing glances from her coworkers. Hell, she might not even be getting any; she and Spike are old news, now. But she still ignores them, because of the principle of the thing.

It's cool outside after the heat of the bakery, and the bookshop's atmosphere isn't much warmer. Yeesh. Even though it's Aziraphale's intention to put people off, sometimes she wishes he wouldn't try quite this hard. Spike could be unpleasant enough to make up for a small uptick in the ambient temperature and a tweak of the humidity levels, right? Doesn't Aziraphale have faith in him?

Logically, she knows that Spike isn't going to be providing much of anything in the way of body heat (and in her less charitable moments, she almost wishes the rift had given him temperature regulation instead of sunlight immunity, since at least she could work around an absence of the latter). But he's still better than the musty shop air, so she settles into his lap and leans against him by way of greeting.

This is nice. The days might be drawing in, but at least her unlikely relationship has settled into something that feels an awful lot like stability. Imagine that.

She shifts a little to get more comfortable and sets her goody-bag-slash-brunch atop a precarious stack of encyclopedias. "What are you reading?" she asks, letting her head list over until it's resting against his temple. She only got a quick look at the title, but she's pretty sure it contained 'chocolate,' which makes it potentially relevant to her interests.

Spike smiles when Sunshine arrives and, when she sits down, settles a hand at her waist. She's been much cuddlier lately, more likely to get close out in public, and he likes that. It feels like this is settling into something very nice. Almost normal.

"History of chocolate. Did you know they used to grind chocolate up with all sorts of stuff? Dinosaur bones." He chuckles a little. "Bad recipe. I bet that'd taste shite. Good dose of calcium and thousand year-old dirt." Well, Jay didn't appreciate the fact. It'd be a shame to just let it go and he suspects that he'll get a better reaction from Sunshine.

Sunshine leans back a little and pulls a face at that tidbit. Okay, chocolate generally needs to be tempered with something, otherwise the intensity gets out of hand, but bones? Really?

"Maybe in this universe," she says dubiously. "Back home, we treated chocolate with respect." That might not actually be true. She's always been more interested in how to work with ingredients in the present than in how people did things back in the frigging dark ages, so for all she knows, the same weird-ass practices were commonplace in her universe, too. But she'd like to think they weren't, and unless Spike summons a history book from back home, there's no way to prove they were.

"Anyway," she adds, nodding at the bag, "all of that is certified fossil-free." She reaches up to brush her fingers through his hair, raising her eyebrows innocuously. "What are you in the mood for?"

There, that's a much better reaction to that bit of information. Sure, Jay had been upset or whatever, but why even bother with trying to get other people to understand him? Sunshine does, and that's enough for him.

He doesn't look away from her face when she nods to the bag of goodies from the bake shop. His smile settles into a smirk and he leans forward to press a kiss to the line of her jaw. "Depends," he murmurs next to her ear, "do you wanna be back to work on time?"

He's not really expecting an answer. He does wish that the back room was a little less disgusting, so Sunshine might take him up on that suggestion sometime, but with an opening like she just gave him, he's not complaining. He pulls back a fraction and lifts his free hand to the back of her neck, then leans back in for a kiss.

When her mouth opens to his, he sighs happily and pulls her closer. For the moment, he forgets entirely that Jay is still in the building.

Jay is in no way emotionally prepared to hear the door creak open again, but hey, it sure is happening. Another customer to be rescued from Spike, already. And she's making immediate conversation with him, too. Wonderful. Jay rakes his hands through his hair, draws in an unsteady breath, and takes a step toward giving customer service the old college try, since it worked so well last time.

He doesn't even make it out from behind the shelf before it becomes immediately clear that this scenario is radically different.

He's actually answering her question - not just answering it, but using the same unnerving chocolate fact he'd just used on Jay. For a moment he thinks maybe Spike is just being a good employee when Jay's not present - but no, actually, they sound friendly. They know each other. Amazing. He has friends.

Jay steps gingerly to the shelf's edge and peeks out, not sure if he wants to introduce himself. There's several rows of clutter between him and the shopfront, but he can see the couple clear as day. And she is sitting in Spike's lap.

And Jay is really, really not a good judge of these things, but he's pretty sure they're flirting.

Oh. Okay. Now they are making out.

Jay draws back sharply. Oh shit. Oh shit. What does he do? Does he pretend he can't hear them? Just let them go about their business? How far is it going to go? Fuck. How do normal people handle this kind of thing?!

Maybe he should tell Aziraphale.

Wait. No. That would be the worst. Telling on his co-worker on his very first day. Yeah, great plan.

Under the haze of his small meltdown Jay fails to notice he's turned the book in his hand into a camera. The weight and curve of it is so natural it grounds him a little, strengthens his resolve. He can't hide back here. Spike knows he's back here - for all Jay knows he's doing this on purpose. Jay isn't just going to let this transpire. That would be... well, that would be weird.

So he does what Jay does best: he blunders right onto the scene. He takes a few steps out from behind the shelf, then decides very quickly he doesn't want to get any closer than that. Realizing that he has not even cleared his throat to alert them to his presence and is so just standing there staring at them has the unfortunate side effect of nullifying what little remains of his decision-making capacity, leaving him rooted to the spot, one hand holding the camera limply at his side, the other gripping the fabric of his hoodie.

Sunshine doesn't dignify that with a response. She's already pointed out - on more than one occasion - that the shop is so desperately grotty that he's lucky she visits him sans protective gear. Like a hazmat suit. But hey, she's only touching him, not their gross surroundings, so it's probably not that unsanitary, right? Sunshine twines her arms around his neck with a satisfied hum. They're probably visible from the street, but she tells herself she doesn't care who sees them.

That sentiment lasts right up until her eyes flicker open and catch the ragged-edged shadows of someone standing in the shop all of six feet away from them.

She jolts out of the kiss and off of Spike's lap with a squawk of protest, gapes at the weird-looking kid, and then gives Spike's shoulder an accusatory swat. "There's a person!" Okay, that sounds incredibly rude, like she's confronting an exterminator who didn't do a good enough job clearing her place of vermin, but since when does Spike just let random people wander around the shop? Said random person gets an extremely suspicious once-over, and her eyes widen when she spots what he's holding.

Is that a camera?

"What," Sunshine starts, her voice dropping into dangerous territory as she points a damning finger at the device, "in the carthaginian hell is that."

Spike just manages not to stand up himself when Sunshine leaps away from him. He expects something attacking or a big scary critter crawling across the desk. Instead, there's just...oh right, Jay is still here.

The swat to his shoulder probably does the opposite of what Sunshine intends. He holds back a smile at her objections and how inadvertently rude it is for her to be yelling at Jay like he's a spider that suddenly descended from the ceiling. He was very glad to be kissing Sunshine, but he finds he doesn't mind the interruption if it's for something like this. It's funny, and he's enjoying it a lot.

When Sunshine draws his attention back to Jay, he laughs to see the video camera in his hand. "That's Jay. Aziraphale hired him. Don't ask me about the voyeurism. That's new."

Jay startles back when the woman yelps at him, staring at her with wide deer-in-headlights eyes, and only notices the goddamn camera when she colorfully points it out.

"Oh," he blurts, feeling himself flush hot. "No, uh - this is not what it looks like."

Shit. Fuck. What book WAS this, even? He's going to have to pay for it, isn't he. God, this is all just going so well.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice rising in pitch a little as he struggles to avoid actual panic. "I didn't mean to - I was just-"

He's still holding the camera. Gesturing with it now. He sets it gingerly on the nearest shelf, pointedly directing the lens away from them. "It's not on," he explains desperately. "It's my stupid rift power, it - I can turn shit into cameras. I don't even notice when I do it. It was a book."

He feels a little bit queasy. He should come closer, not just hanging creepily back here, but he can't seem to move.

Gods and frigging angels. Sunshine peers at the kid - mostly at his shadows - as he babbles out an increasingly frantic explanation. Well, he's not lying. And he's human. She huffs out a sigh, some of her ire dissipating, the remainder settling on Spike. Was he just not going to mention that there was someone else in the shop? She theoretically doesn't mind making potential customers uncomfortable, but that doesn't extend to new goddamn coworkers she's never met before.

"Losing your touch?" she asks sourly, recovering the goody bag and taking a pointed step away from the chair. No snacks for bad vampires. "Is that why Aziraphale hired him?"

To the kid, she adds a somewhat begrudging, "Sheer. I'm not mad at you."

Cameras. That's a pretty specific power, though he's probably not one to talk. Summoning books out of the ether isn't exactly a top five superpower either.

Sunshine stepping away draws his attention, and he pouts back at her reaction. "Aw, come on. You started with the sitting on my lap and the touching my hair and I forgot he was back there." He doubts that she'll come back to sit in his lap with Jay here, but he doesn't want her upset with him for something as little as this.

He smiles, hopefully, and a hardbound cookbook pops into existence and lands with a smack right where the goody bag had been. It teeters as if it might fall from it's spot, but Spike pushes it more fully onto the stack before it falls off.

"Cookbook." he says as he rights it, then turns back to raise his eyebrows at her. He hadn't really meant for it to appear, but she does like the cookbooks. Maybe that will help to smooth things over a little. If she wants to look at it she'll have to step closer again. "You know I haven't lost my touch," he says playfully, and reaches out for her hand. "I think he wants me to train him."

Damn RIGHT he's losing his touch, Jay would say if he were an entirely different person. He starts finally inching closer, slow and shy, keeping his eyes on the two of them. He still feels like he's intruding, but this is a little more his speed, at least.

He lets out an actual yelp when the book appears out of thin air, startling back and nearly upsetting an entire stack of hardcover novels. He reaches out sharply to steady them, then looks back at Spike as he goes on chatting at the girl like everything is totally normal.

"Train me," he can't restrain himself from barking incredulously. "Are you kidding? You were so rude to that last woman she left before I could even-" He waves a hand angrily before almost immediately shrinking in on himself, regretting this outburst. Is he really snapping at this tall lean asshole in front of his apparent girlfriend after walking in on their makeout session? Cool plan, Jay!

Sunshine continues to look deeply unimpressed as she opens the bag and digs out the wrap she made for herself, but she does sidle back over to the chair, this time leaning against the arm instead of sitting on its occupant. The cookbook gets a cursory look (though it's not entirely devoid of interest) as she takes a bite of her lunch.

The idea of Spike training Jay makes her snort incredulously, though not for the same reasons Jay seems to find it outrageous. Did Spike not tell the kid what they do, here? Her eyebrows creep up her forehead, and she hastily swallows.

"Yeah, that's the idea," she says, freeing up a hand so she can push her fingers back through Spike's hair, gently fisting her hand in playful recrimination. "You didn't tell him? Pretty frigging rude, Spike." She releases his hair and gives his head a pat, then looks back up at Jay. "This place is a carthaginian hole on purpose. Aziraphale doesn't want to sell books; he wants to chase people out of here." She makes a Jay-encompassing gesture with her wrap. "Just do that appearing-from-the-stacks-like-a-ghost-child thing again; that would do it."

Spike jerks forward a fraction when she pats the back of his head, and starts to run a hand back through his hair to fix the damage she'd done to his hairstyle. A moment later though, his hair is forgotten in favor of laughing at Sunshine's description of Jay.

"Now who's mean." He grins up at her and then tips his head away from her a bit just in case she feels like getting back at him again.

He tilts his head towards Jay. "Was hoping you'd catch on. This place is more Aziraphale's human cover than an actual make money, serve customers thing. We're here to protect the collection from people who think it's a bookshop. Don't ask me why he needs a cover story when he goes around telling people what he is anyway. I don't know, and as long as he keeps paying me, I don't care."

"Wait." Jay closes his eyes briefly, raising his hands in an awkward hold-the-fuck-on gesture. "So he hired me to help you... get people not to buy the books. Why doesn't he just..." Well, anything. He sighs in exasperation and runs a hand through his hair. That at least answers several questions. Spike - and the shop itself - seem to have this absurd mission pretty well in hand, so why the hell would Aziraphale need to hire him?

Out of pity, probably.

And probably because he recognized what the woman just helpfully pointed out. He's obviously no good at anything but being vaguely unnerving.

He runs his hand over his face and looks at her again. "Well, I'm Jay," he says dryly. "Nice to meet you."

Sunshine makes a gesture of general objection when Spike refers to her as 'mean.' Okay, 'ghost child' might not be the kindest description in the world, but she's pretty sure any emotional distress she's caused can't compare to the lasting confusion Spike created by not telling the kid the goddamn score.

"Sorry," she says anyway, because one of them should probably apologize. "And yeah, we know it doesn't make sense." Does he really need a front? She lifts her shoulders in a brief shrug. "But hey, you're getting paid." And - look, she's not judging, but - for any rifty without the requisite trans-universal skills to land a legitimate job on their own, she figures any paying gig is a gift. He won't even have to work that hard. He can just poke around the stacks and let Spike do the heavy lifting if he wants to.

After taking another few bites of her wrap, she adds, "I'm Sunshine. I work next door." She inclines her head toward the bakery. "Stop by if you're hungry or bored. Or if this one is being mean to you." Smiling down at Spike, she gives his hair a good, style-wrecking ruffle. "Don't be mean to Jay, sweetheart."

"Like I said, don't question the front. He's weird, he likes it." He shrugs. "Why not let him. Easiest job you'll ever have." Not that Spike is going to make it any easier for him.

Spike lifts his hand to his hair when Sunshine ruffles it, but even as he's smoothing it down he smiles back up at her. He knows that she only musses up his hair because she likes to see it looking curlier, so he can forgive the results as long as he can fix it after she's done. "Come by when you're off. I'll close up." He jerks a thumb back towards Jay. "Or leave it to him."

"Uh," Jay stammers, looking at Sunshine - 'Sunshine' and 'Spike', really, really? - as she takes a moment to treat him like a normal person having a normal conversation on a normal day. Which is just about as offputting as anything, really. It takes him a few extra moments to realize he's been invited somewhere - next door - bakery, she bakes, okay - and he manages a belated nod and a stammered, "Oh-okay."

He watches her go, then looks at Spike, feeling immediate intense unease. Now what.

Spike pouts as she leaves- but is soon distracted by the bag of goodies that Sunshine left behind. He pulls it towards himself and pokes through. Some cookies mostly, but there's a piece of fudge there for him, too. He smiles and takes it out, then tosses the bag back on the pile of books.

He's not unaware of Jay's growing tension, so he nods to the bag. He doesn't really like the guy, but he doesn't want him to stand there vibrating for the rest of the day either. "Try one. S'good stuff."

Oh. Um. That's... nice of him to offer? Maybe?

He's really not equipped to deal with all this socializing, and the very abrupt upheaval his day just suffered, learning what his new job actually is, re-evaluating his bizarre co-worker. Okay. This is fine. He's been friends - sort of - with Tim for how long? Tim's just as prickly as Spike, he can handle this.

"Okay," he mumbles, recovering his camera and shuffling over to the front of the shop. He sets the camera down gingerly and peeks into the bag before extracting a cookie. It does look really good. He's not generally much for sweets - all the food he eats has been entirely utilitarian for years. Peanuts, beef jerky. Whatever little bits of salt and protein he can keep down. The recent gift of Greta's turnovers linger with him as the nicest thing he's had to eat in a long time. He should eat fresh baked goods more often, clearly.

So he takes a bite, and holy shit, it is good, really good. He gets a weird little flash of some forgotten childhood memory, cookies baked by his mom maybe, and that is almost too much (because he still can't remember her face, and the memory isn't really a memory, just a sensory flashback, gone already leaving only trace emotions, like waking up after a dream).

He's completely unaware that he's staring at the half-eaten cookie with a conflicted expression, like he's not sure if he's having a religious experience or if it personally offended him.

Edited 2015-10-04 18:32 (UTC)

Jesus Christ, what is wrong with this guy. It's like the cookie is giving him existential trauma or something. Anyway, this tactic to get him to stop bloody vibrating doesn't seem to be working. He waits for a couple moments, but it quickly becomes clear that Jay isn't going to say anything else without prompting.

He raises his eyebrows in Jay's direction. "It's just a cookie, Jay."

Out of curiosity, Spike leans forward and picks up the camera Jay had set down, and turns it around to look it over. "Don't tell me you come from a universe where cookies don't exist."

Edited 2015-10-05 04:36 (UTC)

"What? No." Jay resumes eating the thing, trying not to look sulky about it, which isn't so hard considering how well it hits the spot. "No, I just... It doesn't matter. I was just thinking about something else."

Good dodge. Hopefully Spike won't give enough of a shit to pursue it.

"So you guys, um." He shifts his weight, failing eye contact (not even trying, really). Why is he trying to make conversation, why. "You're both rifties?"

Spike takes a bite of his fudge, then sets it down so that he can examine the camera with both hands. It's a bit more advanced than what he's used to, but not so much that he has trouble turning it on.

He's very aware that the cookie had some sort of weird effect on Jay, but talking about Sunshine is a pretty good distraction and he wasn't all that interested in what was bothering Jay about a cookie anyway. "Mmhm," he hums while he opens the viewer and experimentally pushes a couple buttons. "I found her when she first came through, got her set up. We both come from places that aren't as bloody dull as this universe." He shrugs, at the same time managing to get the camera to start filming. "Demons, vampires, witches, that kinda thing."

Edited 2015-10-06 05:45 (UTC)

"Oh." Jay finishes the cookie and looks at the floor for a minute. So this is dull to him? The presence of unearthly monsters would make things better? Jay wonders darkly how he'd like meeting the thing that hounded Alex and Tim all their lives. Better not to get into that, and he's provided with an immediate distraction as he looks back up.

"Are you - Don't do that." He reaches out to take the camera back. "Please."

Spike leans back to evade Jay's grasp for the camera, but a moment later he flips the viewfinder closed and turns it off.

"Why cameras?" It's an interesting question, why some people are given their rift powers, and Jay's is similar enough to his own that he's curious about the reason. He's pulls the cookbook he'd just materialized towards himself and flips open the cover to look at the index. It's possible that there's no reason at all. He's not sure that he could explain why books keep appearing for him, but at the same time it doesn't feel out of place.

Jay hesitates until Spike has lowered the camera, then shrinks a little, hunching his shoulders and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I dunno, it's not like the power came with an instruction manual," he mutters, a total lie, of course he knows why, Spike must know too and that's why he asked. He heaves a sigh. "I used to... make movies." He mutters this out like he doesn't really believe it's true, and it's not, really, Alex made movies, he was just the fucking script supervisor, a failure, and a bullshit documentarian who accidentally filmed his own death. "I was always using cameras, so I guess the Rift thought it would be... useful, or something."

He shoots the camera a little reproachful glance, then looks at the book in Spike's hands. "What about you? Is it always... cookbooks?"

Spike laughs. "Nooo. Books, yeah, but not cookbooks. Sometimes they're sort of...themed? I tend to get romance and cookbooks around Sunshine because, y'know." He shrugs. He'd have thought that much would be obvious.

"Wish I could get specific. I'm working on that. Usually they just show at random but I can usually get something to show up, if I try."

Edited 2015-10-29 04:34 (UTC)

"Whoa." Jay raises his eyebrows. "So it like... gives away what you're thinking about?" That's... creepy. He'd hate to have something like that. His power is bad enough, but at least the tapes are always blank.

Though maybe that says more about him than he thinks.

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