Wry and Watchful (wryandwatchful) wrote in solsticerp, @ 2010-06-07 18:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | june 21 2009, sam b, santiago |
Sunday: Fangirling
Who: Sam and Santiago
Where: Pharmacy
When: Afternoon
It had been such a relief to get off the Island and after cracking bad Lost jokes about it, Sam got thrown out of the house - so to speak. More accurately he was just sent out to get food and some things from the pharmacy. What he really wanted to do was to go to the beach. There was chatter in the channels about weird stuff being around and he wanted to see it. If he hurried, he might get there before it got too dark out - not that he minded the dark but things were easier to find in daylight.
He jumped off his bike outside the pharmacy and almost forgot to lock it, having to run back out and do that before going back inside. He was still wearing his party clothes thanks to his mom's dire need for painkillers STAT but he didn't mind. It still made for a fun jingle as he sauntered inside the store, browsing for the things he was required to buy and there were a few.
Between the hangover and the stopped up nose, Santiago was feeling fantastic. No, really. Marvelous. And he'd given Fay the day, and the night, off, so he had no one to complain to and, more to the point, no one to send for a decongestant so he could actually breathe again. So here he was, mingling with the townspeople on the mainland, dressed relatively plainly-- for him; the jeans and double-shirts he'd thrown on were very punky, and of course fit him well, but they weren't particularly fancy-- and wishing he could tell the difference between one kind of drug and another. One would think that with the centuries behind him, the thousands of years of dealing with the various colds and infections he picked up, he'd know. But no, not really. All of these had been brought around in the past fifty years, or thereabouts, and all he knew was he took the little pink ones, or the little yellow ones.
So, since he had no other way of telling, he sighed irritably and pulled one box out to try to open it up and get at what was inside.
Seeing Santiago in a pharmacy was like... seeing a gazelle on the north pole, or Marilyn Manson at the local pub. Sam couldn't quite decide just how weird it was but with certain characters it was hard to imagine them having normal lives. Santiago was so out of his normal element of awesomeness, standing there under the fluorescent lights with... what was that? Some mundane over the counter medicine. A goofy grin sneaked up on Sam's lips as he peered past the shelves at the tall man, then strolled closer, too curious not to. He looked so frustrated and lost somehow that Sam felt the driving urge to meddle. "Can I help you?" he asked with his best shop-assistant voice, even if he was just a customer.
Looking up with a faintly guilty expression-- only faintly, though, because it was only natural to need to see the pill to know which one you were supposed to take!-- Santiago lifted his chin and promptly halted his attempt at opening the little cardboard box that, presumably, the pill bottle was inside. His voice was obviously a bit stuffed and nasal when he answered, "Yes. Though if you laugh at my stupid question, I will have to make you sorry for it." Just how he'd do that, he wasn't at all sure, and he assumed the boy would take it as a joke. Even though he was quite serious.
Sam laughed at the notion of laughing at something like that, shaking his head. "No I don't see how medicine stuff could be funny," he promised, a little thrilled to be actually talking to the guy. And the fact Santiago of Vapor had a cold was oddly endearing. "I don't actually work here though so you know, I might not know anything about it." He bounced slightly on his heels, peering at the boxes Santiago was holding.
The dismissive and superior snort Santiago wanted to give would just sound wet and gross and would quite likely embarrass him, he knew from long previous experience, so he just gave the boy a disgruntled sort of look, not sure if he was being laughed at, or not. "Then I suppose I shouldn't ask you, should I?" he said, trying to sound lofty but really only coming across as miserable. "Though since you are apparently so curious, I'm trying to see what color these pills are." Since this wasn't a store employee, though, he felt no qualms with continuing to open the box. There was, indeed, a little pill bottle inside, and he got to work on opening that. If only it were metal instead of plastic.
"Those are pink," Sam told him, pointing at one of the boxes. "They taste disgusting too. I don't know about the other ones though." He didn't take it to heart that Santiago was being a bit dismissive, he was quite used to people being outright rude to him and letting it go easily. "I liked these though." He picked up a different box and held it up for Santiago to see. "You can't taste them."
"But if they're pink, they're the wrong kind," Santiago said with a frown, and gave up on the bottle, setting it back in the box and folding the tabs down again. He couldn't close it up again, but he could at least make it look neat before it set it back on the shelf. "Do your tasteless pills do the same thing as these?" He eyed the box the boy was offering suspiciously. "I need the yellow ones."
"The tasteless ones mostly just made me feel like I'd had too much to drink," Sam said with pursed lips, then grabbed a pack from the shelf. "I'm pretty sure these are yellow. You need something for the nose?" He touched his own nose as he spoke, pinching it before dropping his hand with a little grin. Surely Santiago didn't need visual presentation of what he was saying but habits were hard to break and if Sam wasn't using his hands while speaking it was a sure bet he was paralyzed or tied up.
The show-and-tell was a little amusing, and Santiago had to smile a bit, wryly. "If I wanted to feel like I'd had too much to drink," he said succinctly, "I would merely have too much to drink. Much more fun than taking pills." He did take the supposedly yellow box from the boy, though, and started opening it, too, just to check. He needed to check, dammit, just to be sure.... "But yes, it is for the nose. The whole cold, to be precise, but mostly the nose part."
Sam waited while he made sure the pills were the right ones, grinning and bouncing slightly on his feet. "I love your club by the way," he told him cheerfully. "Like the decoration and stuff. It's totally sweet." On the tip of his tongue was that he thought Santiago himself was way cool too but it felt stupid to start gushing like a total fangirl at a sick guy in a pharmacy.
Of course he loved it. Anyone would love it. Vapor had gone from ho-hum and bland to eye-popping and sheek. Still, it made Santiago smile to hear it said, and from a random boy in the pharmacy-- who apparently knew he was the owner, too. Not bad, for someone he didn't recall ever seeing before. "Well, thank you. I'm rather pleased with how it turned out." Now if only his voice didn't sound stuffed and nasally, life would be grand. "You've been in, then, I assume?"
"I came to the grand opening," Sam said with growing excitement since Santiago had gone from a little bit snarky to somewhat pleasant and having someone awesome be pleasant like that was a thrill for a fannish boy. "It was only perfect, the music, the club, it was all awesome. I love the themes for every room." He cut himself off since even he was becoming aware that he was gushing, giving Santiago a sheepish smile.
Given how many times he'd been gushed at in his life, Santiago didn't mind. It was rather flattering, even if he knew, of course, everything the boy said was true. "The themes were all my idea," he said modestly. Only not very modestly at all. "I enjoy having different feels in each major room--" And each private room, too, but they were more varied than simply elemental affinity. "--and it gives it a little more interest, a little more spark to attract and entertain, don't you agree? What did you think of the choice of theme?" The boy wasn't an elemental, he knew that, but if he was aware of them that was at least something.
"It was totally shway," Sam replied enthusiastically. He wasn't exactly in the know about elementals but that didn't mean he didn't recognize the elements and some supernatural connections to them. "You should have more nights that allow people in even if they're under age," he added somewhat cheekily, giving Santiago his sweetest smile.
"You must not've paid a lot of attention," Santiago told him, looking amused despite his general misery and his tired demeanor. "Every Tuesday, Vapor is open to anyone sixteen and up. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Vapor is open to anyone eighteen and up. I thought we advertised that fairly ext--" He paused, holding up a finger, as he waited... and waited... and then gave up on the sneeze that decided it didn't want to come. "Fucking cold.... Fairly extensively, I meant to say. But it might not be anywhere you've seen it."
Sam waited through Santiago's plight with a growing smile and once Santiago had finished speaking he pointed at him with a look of disapproval. "That's only Tuesdays though. But I'll be hanging around a lot more when I turn eighteen, that's a promise." Maybe it would have been smart to pretend he already was of age but Sam had a feeling that wouldn't fly with Santiago as plenty of people knew him and knew he had just crawled out of his junior year.
"Tuesdays are more than any other nightclub you'll find," Santiago pointed out, looking down at the pointing finger with amusement. He had a feeling the boy didn't have any idea that pointing was rude, and since he was being generally pleasant, Santiago wasn't going to hold it against him. This time, anyhow. "So I'm afraid that's the best you'll get. Though I do hope to see you then, at least. What's your name?" Since he hadn't a clue, really, and the boy probably knew his.
"Sam," Sam replied quickly. "Samuel Boesch. My dad owns the local tattoo place. You should totally come there if you want more tattoos. He's really good. Not like some small town tattoo artists, he only moved here because of my mom. She's totally got a spell on him, like the worst and best kind. He did my tattoos." Without pause he shrugged off his jacket on one side and pulled up the short sleeve of his shirt to show off the multiple skulls that littered his skinny arm.
Tattoos of skulls. How very typical. Santiago tried to show interest, he really did. He did at least look the tattoos over with a professional eye-- while he had never actually picked up the art, he had so many on his arms, which he occasionally regretted getting, that he knew good work and poor work when he saw it. Plus, well, he'd been seeing tattoos for millennia. He was, honestly, a little bored with them now. Maybe if they ever developed an ink made from metal.
"I'll consider it," he said with great gravity, then flashed the best impish grin he could at the boy. "I'm assuming you know my name. Or should I introduce myself, too?"
"Of course I know your name," Sam guffawed, grinning back at Santiago. "Everyone knows your name." Maybe not everyone did but Sam was prone to exaggeration and he felt that everyone should know. "You're the local celebrity, mister Santiago." He bowed with a flourish, then fixed his sleeve and jacket.
Smiling with both amused flattery and self-mocking, Santiago inclined his head like the long-time aristocrat he technically was. In more ways than one. "I am, am I? Well, that's often a pleasant thing to be, as long as there are no paparazzi around to contend with." Of course, Santiago had plenty of fun with those, anyway.... If he wasn't in the mood to flirt and lap up all the attention he could get, all it took was a look and all their fancy, metal cameras broke.
Since he did need to buy this medicine and go home and dose himself, he started towards the counter, at the slow and meandering pace he was capable of at the moment. He fully expected Sam Boesch to come along with him. "So I assume you are still in school?" he asked, to make conversation. If he wasn't eighteen yet, he had to be, didn't he?
"Yup," Sam said amiably, trailing after Santiago though he really ought to go find the things he was supposed to be buying. "I'll be a senior this year. Finally. Did high school suck for you too?" Didn't it for everyone? Still he had to ask, Santiago seemed so easy going, but then he also looked like high school was a few years behind him and people looked pretty happy even just a year after escaping the boredom.
With years of experience behind him at making shit up, Santiago said airily, "Of course not, I got myself a little flock of admirers and mocked anyone who didn't like me. I was the little queen bee of the school, and had the time of my life." Of course, he'd never actually been to high school. When he grew up, nothing of the sort had existed, nor anything even remotely similar. Hell, his own childhood and adolescence had actually been terrible, but that wasn't something he let out. Not even dear old Brother Thomas knew that one.
Sam snickered at that, too easily picturing Santiago in just that scenario. "Ah minions, I need some of those myself," he said airily with a dreamy smile on his lips. "Any tips on how to survive and be fabulous before I leave you to your miserable cold?" His smile turned sympathetic, though never patronizing in its empathy.
That was something Santiago had no qualms ever sharing with anyone. No one, after all, could out-glamor and out-charm himself, so he wasn't worried about competition from a teenage boy-- or the grown up boy, if he lasted in this area that long, which he wasn't sure he would-- but he did like dropping little bits of wisdom to the young he could pass on. "Confidence," he said firmly. "Before anything else, confidence. And then learning when not to speak. There is a lot to be gained from being mysterious."
"Yeah," Sam drawled. "The whole mystery thing? So not my thing. Confidence I don't have a problem with, I think." They'd reached the counter so Sam had to leave him alone soon he knew, to let him buy his medicine. But he couldn't leave without asking, "Do you mind if I film you sometime? Like, Tuesday night?"
"As long as I'm over this damned cold by then," Santiago answered. "I refuse to be filmed when I'm not my best. But otherwise, whenever you like. I'm a slave to the camera, when I'm ready for it." He grinned sideways at the boy and winked. His own private paparazzi. That was kind of cute.
A slave to the camera sounded like a potential best friend to Sam and he smiled brightly at Santiago. "I'll make sure not to film you while you're sick," he promised. "But I'll definitely be in Vapor next Tuesday night so you better be feeling okay by then."
"I will do my best," Santiago promised, right back, with a smirk. "I suppose if I need to be improved in two days, I had better get myself home and to bed. Shall I see you then, and simply purchase these and take myself away home?" He held up the little box with the pill bottle in it and shook it gently. "I will look forward to it, I'm sure."
"And drink lots of tea with honey and lemon or something," Sam snickered. "Eat onions and uhm," he thought about it, trying to remember more of those 'get better' home remedies. "Inhale steam and err- chicken soup, I guess?" He grinned at Santiago. "All at once, of course, to make sure they all work."
Most of which, Santiago had found, did very little to actually help his reoccurring little colds and infections, but then, maybe it was because he wasn't human. He chuckled a bit and gave Sam a little salute, American-style so he'd recognize it, and said, "Yes, mother," in a lightly mocking tone. "Run along, now, and get whatever you came here for, and I'll go home and do just that." Perhaps he even would go home, back on the island, and let the club run without him and without Fay tonight. He was sure nothing would fall apart in their absence.
Sam replied to the salute with one of his own and a muttered, "Aye aye captain." This was cool, having a friendly chat with Santiago of all people? Cool might not even begin to describe it. He backed up and then headed down the aisle to find some tum tums. "See ya on Tuesday," he called without looking back, grabbing a pair of cool looking fishnet socks he could alter into sleeves. If his parents were going to be sending him on boring missions, they might as well expect him to pick up random things for himself as well.