Re: tandy & holly; the music store
Tandy didn't believe in self-sacrificing. Noble cost money, and she didn't have enough of it to manage nobility on top of the generic, rent/bills/stuff cycle of dollar-bills out of her pocket the second they landed. She wasn't self-sacrificing, terror had banked up hard against the rails the second, maybe third time she'd pulled a knife with a wicked-sharp edge out of thin air and put it back again. She wasn't bothered Holly didn't feel like chilling in the woods in an abandoned house and watching a light-show, she wouldn't have. She was clocking up a list of all the ways her not-a-doppelgänger and she were different and self-sacrificing might have been way up on that list.
The music store felt like comfort. Was that weird? It wasn't her home-ground, this place hadn't been open when she'd last been in town, graduating in absentia, tassel-less and diploma-free. She had graduated, which was important, but the music store's warmth and lazy slink over the sound-system was super appealing right now. Tandy shucked her coat the second she hit the warmth of the interior, down to plaid over a yellow shirt that peaked at the top bottom, and breathed in old records and weed, faintly sweet over the top-notes of yk, dust. Holly glanced up from the counter and it looked like he breathed in, readying himself for a sales pitch or something - it was probably necessary, this place was dead - and stopped.
"Knife-y." She wasn't pulling that stuff out in the doorway, the visibility of the store to the street would make that insane, and she draped her coat over her arm and moseyed toward the counter, slow-speed. Her hand came down to her side, and there was a shimmer, brief and bright like a bulb flaring, before it popped. Went out, or something. The knife was gone. "Sometimes."