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Clint Barton is going back to bed. (today_sucks) wrote in snapthread,
@ 2019-12-09 20:11:00

Entry tags:

beverly marsh, clint barton (616)

Who: Clint Barton and Beverly Marsh
What: Shopping, meeting
Where: Through the doors
When: Dec 9th

It was always a gamble, going through the doors — sure, most of the time it was at least possible to see a little bit of what they’d be walking into, but not always. Sometimes things got really weird when they’d looked normal to begin with. And sometimes they looked weird from the start, but Clint was sort of a glutton for action and went through anyway and either regretted it or had some fun.

In this instance though, he’d made sure to open and close about a hundred door opportunities (some that looked fun, some that did not) in order to get something relatively normal. Beverly was new, and had never been through before and it didn’t really matter if Clint had a bow with him or not: a bad time was a bad time. He didn’t want anyone to have to deal with that on the first go.

So here they were, standing in some kind of big-ass mall in — well. Clint looked around curiously, spotting out stores that looked familiar but only in a nostalgic kind of way. The late 90’s, maybe? “What do you think?” He asked his new pal — not that they really knew each other, but Beverly seemed nice enough, and he’d always had a soft spot for red-heads so he figured they’d probably get there. “Good enough, or should we try for someplace else?” If this place had a Suncoast DVD store, they could go for absolutely broke, filling up the library with watchable options.

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mollyringwald
2019-12-10 03:03 pm UTC (link)

Damn, how long had it been since Beverly stepped foot into a mall? Probably years - she fondly remembered the days of her 90s teenage dream youth, flashes of things like neon pink signs that said Claire’s and pizza that was like cardboard, maybe even spending hours browsing CDs before there were things like iPods and phone apps to get the latest music. Ah, nostalgia.

And any nostalgia that didn't include traipsing around in a dank, smelly sewer to kill a fucking clown was what she preferred to cling to. Derry may have been a literal, actual pit of evil but they had access to a mall, even if they had to drive a little ways.

Wearing jeans and black boots that climbed high with a cozy belted-at-the-waist sweater thrown over that, she felt like she fit in pretty well. "No, this is great," she assured Clint. "I bet they even have an Auntie Anne's pretzel place and a Spencer's."

God. They could spend hours in Spencer's. She wanted to do something handmade for the other Losers, for Christmas, but getting them gag gifts was also high priority, okay. "Where to first?"

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today_sucks
2019-12-11 03:23 am UTC (link)

Clint maybe hadn't been truly able to appreciate malls for what they'd been in their prime-- a teenage friend hangout -- but he had plenty of memories of being in them instead of going to school when he was younger; of skipping out of foster homes with his brother, chilling out in the arcade or the food court, watching Barney sweet talk girls to get them free fries or pizza. Maybe there'd been some shoplifting when they were a bit older. There'd been some thrill in that back then, so long as Clint framed it in a way where he justified it as need instead of just theft.

To think, he'd grown up to be some kind of hero.

"I want a hotdog pretzel," Clint said, like a man who was a glutton for stomach punishment. "We need that before we go. But maybe we start at the -- Spencer's? Which one is that again?"

It turned out to be neon plastic jewelry and odd trinkets. The place was so clearly aimed at teenage girls, but Clint seemed well-amused by trying on every pair of sunglasses there were on the rack. They even had purple, and he was frickin' gonna get them. Along with a bandana in every color imaginable. He didn't even know why, not really. Maybe they'd be cute on his dog. "So," he said to Bev, making faces at himself in the little mirror. "What's your story?"