Paul Stepanski (mildude) wrote in theinvincibles, @ 2015-07-28 22:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, georgia bell, paul stepanski |
WHO: Georgia Bell [028] and Paul Stepanski [Mildude]
WHAT: Paul takes Georgia shopping...to a taxidermist.
WHEN: July 28th
WHERE: downtown Chicago, Woolly Mammoth Antiques, Oddities, and Resale
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Complete.
"Aw, come on!" Paul yelled over his shoulder. The door to Zap Props was shut firmly behind him, but that didn't stop him from swiveling around on the pavement. He raised his hands in disgust towards the marquee letters above the door. "I'm not going to mold anything!" he protested. "I made an appointment!" And then, as if it summed up his feelings of indignity, "I'm a theater person!" If the employees inside were still listening to him, his shouts didn't convince them to open the door. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair so that it stood on end. "Well, that's just great." Turning to Georgia, he swallowed down the expletive he was about to let out with a choking sound. She was his favorite agent. He didn't want to ruin her impression of him. "I'm sorry, Georgia," he said, managing clipped politeness that was really for the benefit of those ignoring him behind the door. "I guess we won't be seeing an oversized rat monster today." "No, I'm sorry," Georgia said, shaking her head. "They were jerks." While the insult to her didn't reach the same scale as anti-metahuman prejudice, she took the rejection personally too, an insinuation that she wouldn't be able to perform her job and prevent any incidents. Knowing that his powers sometimes related to his emotional state, Georgia nudged Paul gently away from the warehouse entrance. The last thing either of them needed in this situation was him unintentionally fulfilling the floor manager's prophecy by activating mold spores on an antique bookshelf or taxidermied buzzard inside. "Come on," she added, as brightly as possible. "What about that other place you wanted to visit?" With a disgruntled grumble, Paul shot one last dark look at Zap's. They were jerks, all right. "Woolly Mammoth's," he replied. "They don't have giant toothbrushes or mannequin parts, but they provide better service!" His voice escalated a little, but he allowed himself to be shepherded along by Georgia. "I just, like, need to get my grandma something good. You think old ladies are all apple pies and quilting bees, but no. My grandma's friends are constantly trying to one up each other. Especially at Bingo. She's lucky she hasn't been stabbed in the neck with a knitting needle." He got into the car. Georgia took the driver's seat, as she usually did on trips outside the facility. While she could be quite chatty while chauffeuring the metahumans, this time she tuned the radio to a classic rock station and let Bruce Springsteen do the talking. She may have sung along. Paul muttered inscrutably for a little while before bursting into the chorus. Arriving in Andersonville, Georgia managed to find a place to parallel park only a block away from Woolly Mammoth Antiques. That was a good sign. "This place is so cool!" she gushed, as they approached the storefront. "So, uh… does your grandma like animals?" "Not ones she has to dust," replied Paul. He looked at Georgia and grinned, glad that she 'got' the place. Not everyone could look past the doll heads and stuffed marsupials. "I need something good, that she can lay out on her bingo table and rub without coming up with a handful of fur. Or hair," he added, eying a doll with eyelids that were fluttering slightly as he walked past. "Do you think any of the stuff in this place is cursed? I don't want to give her any jinxed gifts." He turned away from a bowl filled with old dentures. "If I look at her the wrong way she'll hit me with an oven mitt and tell me I'm going to give her bad luck." "I don't think so, but you could always have Operative Fortune double-check any gifts before you give them," Georgia pointed out. There was a metahuman for everything, apparently. Every time an item in the store caught her eye, she spied something else even more esoteric. Next to the dentures Paul had passed over sat another bowl, this one filled with dental impression trays. Georgia lifted one and held it up, inspecting the holes in the dull metal. "This is neat. You make molds with it!" She made an expectant face, proud of her cheesy pun. "Oh, man." Lighting up, Paul walked over to better inspect the thing. "No one makes better molds than me." His grandmother wouldn't need it, and he hadn't planned on making a personal purchase, but Georgia's idea resulted in a burst of inspiration. "Georgia! You're freaking brilliant! You know what this could be used for?" He picked another one up and waved it around. "Cheese molds!" His words started to rush out more quickly. "This is way better than circles! And I could market it as like, the perfect amount of cheese for your mouth! Forget string cheese! We don't need wedges! Why should single-serve cheese be one size fits all? Wouldn't you rather have the perfect hunk of cheese for your mouth?" He held the mold near her, comparing size. Georgia grinned wide, showing the product of years of childhood orthodontics. A cheese retainer sounded better than a plastic one. "Sounds like a business idea!" she said. "So are you going to get some?" "Yeah I am!" responded Paul. He lifted the bowl and began to paw through the metal. His grandmother's birthday gift was temporarily put aside. "If you're ever looking at investing in entrepreneurial business, Georgia, this could be the big one. Think of the market!" "I wish I could." Her smile faded somewhat as she shook her head. "I'll buy some for sure -- your cheese is always great -- but Section 23-B-seven of the Agent Code of Conduct says that investing in a resident-owned business is a conflict of interest." Paul deflated slightly. "Oh. Right. Sure." He'd never had a reason to become familiar with the Agent Code of Conduct. The only reason he was halfway knowledgeable about the resident code was because he'd been meaningfully informed on several different occasions. "Well. It's just too bad you're limited in that way. But it's cool. I got this." What he'd blow on dental molds he'd make back by selling cheese. "It's not against code to help buy grandmas a gift, right? Like, I'm not going to tell her you helped me, so she starts thinking I've gone and found myself a responsible girlfriend or anything. Can't go giving my grandma a heart attack on her birthday." Seeing Paul's disappointment, Georgia felt a squeeze of regret in her chest. With his memorable day pass trips and positive attitude, he was one of her favorite residents, and she really did like his cheese -- but she also really liked keeping her job. As much as she wanted the residents to trust her, she also had to remain professional. "I'll give you all the help and advice you want!" she chirped, maybe laying it on a little thick to compensate for the guilt she felt. "I can even carry your bags or hold stuff while you look around." "What?" Paul blinked, then started to protest. "No. Nah. Psssht." Georgia's compassion was only one of the reasons he liked her. Her tolerance for his strange requests was another. "I can carry everything. But what I need from you--" He dipped his chin to give her a meaningful look, "is to help me find the perfect present. There's got to be something in here, right, G? If one of us is going to find something really great, it's gonna be you. You ready?" His speech was reminiscent of a pep talk, which could probably be attributed to hanging around Georgia for extended periods of time. Georgia beamed. She had no doubt in her mind that she would do whatever it took to find a great gift for a nice old lady, particularly if that nice old lady was Paul's grandmother. "I was born ready." "Great! Then let's head over there to the porcelain gorilla jazz band." He gestured for her to lead the way. |