Re: tandy & holly; the music store
Oh yeah, the phone thing. A year made all the difference. People who had her number or were looking out for her number, probably thought she'd dropped off the planet. It was a literal, no-grid thing, not even off the grid. It wasn't actually about Uncle Sam, so much as Sam. But Tandy didn't think about Sam a whole lot, not if she could help it. She was yk, flying free of serious oversight and it kinda showed? She looked chill-er than she had a year ago, although six months ago looked pretty different too.
"Hey," she said, good-naturedly. "Rude. True, but also - rude." She knew she looked young. It was kinda the reason she'd made bank, right? People wanted jail-bait. No, they wanted technically-legal, but practically-jail-bait so Uncle Sam didn't fuck them either. "I'm legal. I could just dig out my regular ID and flash it but there's the Cash thing and the cop thing and so my drinking establishment locale has dropped to one. Which, I'm pretty sure they don't card. They're making ten bucks on six dollar drinks, but they don't card."
But okay, light-knives. Tandy's shoulders subsided under the weight of critical, sci-fi based thinking. "They're always knives. I don't know if they're just light, they feel substantial to me, and they definitely have a blade, but light puppies is a little way out for me. I don't even know where I'd start with like, the knives being something else, thing."
But the expression came up, Tandy's chin jutting. "My dad wouldn't do shit to me. He was great. Like, a total soft touch but great, he wouldn't have broken scientific protocols to turn his kid into a science experiment."