december (pins_n_ribbons) wrote in the_dome, @ 2013-03-26 00:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | 03-22-2017, december, december and mannix, mannix |
interesting people
Who: December and Mannix
Where: Trader's Circle
When: Morning
Why: December needs some supplies
Warnings: Language
December had gotten off of her shift but hadn't gone home. That was her problem a lot of the time--the graveyard shift was perfectly suited to someone like her, but she always needed wind down time by the time she was done with her shift. It meant even if it was the ass end of her day, she was still up and wandering around. She knew the traders had started coming in again, and she wanted to check to see if anyone had anything of use. The past few times she'd checked there'd been fuck all there for her. But she had to keep looking, or she'd tear her hair out.
There was a reason she still did tattoos on the side. It helped keep her sane. She loved being a coroner in Chicago, and was glad she could pick up that job again--but this was the dome. It wasn't like people landed on her table often. It had been weeks since she'd even seen a corpse, and the cause of death had been as dull as it got: natural causes.
Quietly, she walked along the edges of the circle, reaching up to pull her hair back, stabbing a chopstick through it to hold it there. Stopping, she eyed a table of odds and ends, nothing quite jumping out at her yet. Today she almost wanted to buy something just to buy something. Stupid, probably, but she was feeling like if she had something new, maybe she'd feel less...suffocated.
Mannix enjoyed the first day in a dome. It was when they had the best goods to offer and he could get the most for them, provided that no one else was offering anything similar. The objects in their booth ranged from food to electronics and everything inbetween. It was impossible to gauge exactly what people were looking for, but he tried his best to have a wide variety of junk that the dome couldn’t manufacture themselves. Hair dye was sometimes a hot item, particularly the blonde, leaving him with bright colors and blacks. He could always spot the woman who needed hair products.
People watching was the second best thing about the first day in a dome. Everyone came out in the first few days, usually with one or two items they just had to have. Mannix had gotten to where he’d make a list of items no one had, just in case he could track it down before coming back again. “Looking for something in particular?” he smiled as a pretty, little goth girl drifted his way. He wondered if her hair was naturally black, or if she’d buy dye off him. The piercings were something more, though. He usually saw that kind of work on the those outside the dome, rather than in.
December looked over when spoken to. She glanced the guy up and down, in a clearly assessing manner, as if trying to decide if she thought he had what it took to have what she might want. "Yes, actually. Tattoo ink." she said finally. It was a long shot. Though she noted he had ink on his arms. She absently wondered if he'd gotten them pre or post apocalyptic event. "Any colors are fine, mainly I need black, and if you have any blacklight ink, that would be fucking fabulous."
Mannix considered the question, knowing the answer, but not entirely sure he wanted to give her what she wanted. They’d found a supply of tattoo ink on their most recent run, including a tattoo gun, but they’d intended on keeping it for themselves. The problem was that neither he nor Jack possessed the skill to use it. It was a waste in the wrong hands. “I do,” he said with a little smirk. “Thing is, we were planning to keep it for ourselves, except neither of us are artists. Me and my brother, I mean. So maybe we can come to some sort of deal.”
"If you give me what you've got, I'll give you and your brother whatever you want inked. I'm good, I did tattoos before the world decided to become a giant working model of cancer. It put me through school, if you want to know how much work I got." December said, figuring on a flat trade. And if they wanted giant pieces, she would actually look forward to that. It had been a while since she'd been able to do a large tat.
All things considering, that actually seemed like a good deal to Mannix. If he kept the ink for himself, he wasn’t going to make a profit on it, but if he did a trade with her, then he’d get free ink out of the deal. Mannix reached below the booth and pulled out a small wooden box, then set it on the table. The lid was shut, concealing whatever was inside. “Let’s say I give you the ink, you ink us for free, but if I’ve got blacklight ink, you pay for that separately. Everything else is yours,” he smiled, fingers drumming on the lid of the box.
December eyed the box, considering. "If you have blacklight ink, and you hand it over, any time you're in town and want something new, it's yours." she countered. Which could mean in the long run that she had a lot of ink going just toward him, but she had to at least make the attempt at the offer. How often would he be through, anyhow? "And, if you come across more, and save it for me, we'll look at a more monetary exchange." If she had someone actively looking for it, that would be pretty awesome.
Mannix considered the offer, weighing the pros and cons. Free ink any time they came through would be awesome, but they didn’t come to Delphi all that often. Then again, they had family in Delphi, so it was a more regular stop than some of the others. And she was a guaranteed customer if he found any more ink. Compared to some of the other objects on his list to find, it shouldn’t be near as hard, so long as they went to a city. “Deal,” he grinned, then flipped open the top of the box. “You better not run off on me, though. I will find you.”
Getting closer, December looked in the box, smiling faintly to herself as she saw the range of color, and the gun. That smile got wider, and she looked up at Mannix. Her lips twisted in a smirk, and she arched a brow. "You'll find me, huh?" she asked. "What makes you think that'd work out in your favor?" she posed.
“If I have to find you, it will not work in your favor,” Mannix warned, though he was still smiling. There were only so many people in the dome, and she looked like a memorable girl. It wouldn’t take much asking around to track her down. He wasn’t too worried about it, though, and he couldn’t say why. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Her smirk didn't leave her face, though she did pick up the box. "You shouldn't start with threats if we're embarking on a business arrangement. Makes a girl think that you're not the man to do business with, if you're going to run around making threats before we've even gotten to the pleasantries. Now, that said, I'm not actually all that taken with pleasantries. But it does rub me the wrong way to automatically get a threat. There's a word for that..." she made a show of thinking about it, even humming. Then she landed her gaze on him again. "Bullshit! That's it." she said brightly, for her. "So. Are we going to start over and play nice? Or are you going to be an asshole, and stick with 'grr, I'm mean and might cut you up into little pieces'?"
Mannix rolled his eyes as he sighed. He didn’t like the idea of cutting anyone up into little pieces. It wasn’t his style. And, truth be told, if he really thought he had to threaten her, he wouldn’t want her sinking a needle into his skin. “We can play nice, but I can’t guarantee I won’t be an asshole,” he grinned. “Happens sometimes. Just slips out.” Which was actually true. Outside the dome, the charm didn’t always work.
“"That's better." December told him. "I can work with that." she added. Really, she didn't care if he was a dick, she was used to that. It was the threats she could do without. "My name is December." she told him. "I do ink out of my home, it's by the cop shop and the hospital. I work nights, so any time during the day is good. For your ink, are you going to want something specific? Like, have me work from a drawing of yours, or do you want me to work up a design of my own with some direction from you?"
“Mannix,” he said, offering his hand with a smile. He had to work to keep himself in check while in the domes. It wasn’t like the outside, where threats were sometimes more effective, especially since he could easily act on them. Attacking someone in the dome was bad for business. Word would get out, even if he was careful, since crime was low by comparison. “I’ve been wanting a compass on the other arm. Something that matches in style, if you can do that.”
"What kind of name is Mannix?" she asked. "That something you gave yourself?" It sounded made up. She did shake his hand, though, and while she did so she glanced at his arm to see the style in question. "I can do that." she said, feeling confident in her abilities. She'd be able to sketch something up that would complement what he already had, something that didn't seem jarring in it's composition.
“It’s Gaelic. I think it’s a family name,” he said, trying to remember what his mother once told him. He knew it meant ‘little monk’, which was most unfitting in his opinion. “If I were going to pick out my name, I’d pick something easy. Were you born with the name December?” It seemed odd that someone with such an unusual name would pick on him for his, but it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked. “Is the bird your only ink on display?” he asked, wondering if there was anything else she could show him.
"Gaelic, and still pronounceable? Surely not." December said, lightly teasing. "Maybe I'll just call you JD." she added. That was simple. "As for my name, yes. I was born with December, because my birthday is in December, and my mother couldn't be bothered to come up with anything that wasn't directly in front of her." Which actually was the case. But her mom had been a miserable bitch. "I have some ink on my back. I did the artwork for it, but obviously couldn't have inked it myself."
“And what would JD stand for?” he asked with a laugh. It might have been a much simpler name, but he couldn’t find any reasoning behind it. “At least you weren’t born in July or February. I don’t think those sound near as cool. Or she could have named you a different month than you were born in.” That would have just been cruel. “Can I see?” he asked, hoping she’d spin around. Even if she didn’t ink it herself, it would give him an idea of her art style.
"John Doe." December answered, with a slight smirk. "I've dealt with enough of them in my life, what's one more?" she posed. "And she could have named me Sally McWhats-er-name too. Or anything else. Was that a bassackwards way to say you think it's cool?" she asked. When he asked if he could see, she did turn around. She was wearing a black tank top, sne she reached up to pull her hair over one shoulder, then she tugged the shoulder straps down enough that he'd get a better view of the ink there.
“Aw, thanks, glad to be lumped in with those guys,” he grinned, shaking his head. “And yes, I think it’s cool. It’s different, and way better than Sally anything.” That was his problem, that he liked simple names, but if they got too simple, he found them boring. Then again, there was nothing boring about his brother; he wore the name well. “Very nice,” he said when she spun around. Not only could he appreciate the ink, but the skin she was showing. “Do you get a lot of work in here? I’d think business would be slow.”
Pulling the straps back up, December turned back around. "Thanks." she said. "And it's okay. I don't do tats every day or anything, but a lot of times when traders come in, people stop by. Some people sort of chronicle their cycles through places, through ink. It's interesting. So, I keep busy enough to not lose the skill set, though it isn't my main career, either."
He could easily see the traders going to her when they stopped through. It seemed more common with the type of people outside the dome than in, but he also knew the number in the dome was limited. Unless people continued to ink themselves, it would be easier for the clientele to run dry. “What’s your main career then?”
December smiled at that. There was something just a little dark about it. "I'm the coroner." she told him. "And sure, maybe I don't have a lot to do in that either, but I suppose the people in charge figure it's better to have one and not need one..."
She became more interesting by the second, in his opinion. He’d never known a woman who elected to work with dead bodies. It was a little dark and a little morbid, but it made Mannix even more curious. “You’ve gotta have one, otherwise you’re in trouble when you need one,” he smiled. “Is that what you did before the dome too?”
"Yes." December answered. "I was in Chicago. There was a hell of a lot more work there." she added, which she knew was obvious. "Good times." she added. Which was sort of true. She missed her old life. It was far less messy. She'd had a good career, she'd enjoyed her life, as much as she enjoyed anything. It wasn't perfect, but it was less strained. Even if she got that it was morbid and weird, being a coroner there had been where she thrived.
“I’m guessing all kinds of things came across your table back then. What do you like about it?” he asked curiously. It took a certain kind of person to work in a morgue. He wasn’t even sure he could stomach it himself. Sure, he could kill a man, but to cut him open and look inside him? That was something else.
December gave a faint smirk. "It's one of those things--if you don't get it, then it isn't for you." she said. "I guess the simplified answer is I like puzzles. Figuring out what happened to someone before they got to you is one hell of a big one."
“I could see that,” he said, lips turning up. “I think that part would be interesting. It’s the open body that I’m not sure I’ve got the stomach for.” The way he left bodies was generally straight forward, but he wondered what she would make of Jack’s work. Most of those guys didn’t have much of a face left by the time he was done with them.
"You're the one starting out with threats, but you don't know about dealing with corpses?" she asked, arching a brow. "Interesting." she noted. Then moved on. "Never did bother me. Besides. My interest is in working out what happened to them. Can't do that if I'm squeamish. But I take it seriously. Someone has to figure it out. I decided I was going to be in on that."
“I’m not usually interested in them once they’re dead,” Mannix said with a little laugh. He realized that most people wouldn’t be amused by that, but it was who he was. He wouldn’t have survived this long if he was worried about taking out those that got in his way. “Very cool,” he smiled. “So when would be a good time to drop by your place and get inked?”
"That's when I find people the most interesting. The living are the ones I have more trouble with." December said. Which was true, in a lot of ways. "As for what time, whenever, really. This afternoon? I have to get some sleep, I just got off shift, but I don't usually sleep that late." In truth, the answer was that she didn't sleep that well, but he didn't need to know that.
He could relate to that. People could be interesting, but also confusing as all hell. “Would tomorrow work? We’re busiest on opening day and I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave this afternoon.” That would also give her a bit of time to work up a design, if need be. Mannix could also mention it to his brother, who would hopefully appreciate the deal.
"Tomorrow's fine." December said. She picked up the box he'd given her, and smiled. "See you then, JD." she said, ever so slightly teasing. Then she turned to head back home, very pleased with her purchase. That and the guy was as least interesting.
“Sleep well, December,” he grinned, watching as she walked off. Of all people to meet in a dome, she was someone to remember. A girl her age, working in a morgue, doing tattoos in her spare time? Definitely worth checking up on later. Especially since she’d called him on his bullshit. That made her a rare bird indeed.