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Not On Target; Open, if you dare (sorry notsorry for the pun)
Topic Started: Jul 20 2015, 12:19 PM (1,618 Views)
Espi
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((Blair Moore Pregame start))

The rows and rings of Target’s clothing department were quaint, really, in that cheap-and-mass-produced-retail-store kind of way. They were lined with tacky, probably really low-quality stuff, but they were passable. Blair normally avoided the place, because who wanted to go around in a Target outfit? People with no sense of taste. Blair had taste. Lots of it. So she bought clothes online or in that one cute boutique down the street.

Unfortunately for Blair, though, a fashion emergency was underway, and she had been forced into Target in search of a new tee. Not just any tee, though; this was a very specific, pale pink tee which was comfortable and sexy. Blair liked being comfortable and sometimes even sexy, and she’d liked her tee. But it’d been ruined in a tragic spaghetti sauce incident. She’d incidentally nearly burned her hand in the process, but hands healed; clothes did not. The tee was ruined.

So now she’d been forced to hunt down another one, but the local boutique was lacking. See if Blair shopped there anytime soon. Luckily, she’d discovered that Target actually carried that brand of tee, and Blair had rushed there immediately. The internet was wonderful like that, with its free information and convenience. But that was wasn’t important; what mattered was that Blair NEEDED her favorite tee back.

Of course, now she had to actually find the specific top, which was no small feat. And Blair had scanned the area for like 10 minutes to no avail. “Urgh,” Blair grumbled, wrinkling her nose upon discovering an ugly lime green tube top. Who’d ever wear that? Trash, of course. Not Blair.

Coughing into the crook of her elbow in a practiced fashion and taking a slightly wheezy breath, Blair glanced around. It didn’t look like any of the workers were nearby, so she couldn’t ask them. With a groan, Blair went back to looking. She was slightly out of breath from wandering around for a while, so hopefully she could find her tee soon.
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((Scarlett McAfee, Start))

A focussed American girl went to the store, to find herself surrounded on all sides by things to buy.

Usually Scarlett took her time when shopping. But she wasn't shopping, she was going to buy something. There was no time to waste. She had it in her mind. She'd seen it last week and now she went into the store to find it and buy it. It could be gone, after all.

So Scarlett strolled through the store to go to location where she saw it last week.

...Fuck, it was gone.

Eh, whatever. While she's here, she could take her time to find something else. And if she found nothing that she wanted to buy, she could just go back home and finish doing her homework.

When she went through the store to check some stuff, she saw somebody she recognised from her grade.

"Hey, Blair!"

Blair, which tbh was a weird name, was on one hand really cool in science, on the other hand, she seemed a bit arrogant to Scarlett. But, eh. Arrogant people can be nice as well.

She smiled and waved at Blair in the distance. Just like the penguins from that movie. Ugh, what was the name of the movie?
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Espi
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Ugh, it was Scarlett. Two Ts, but no tees yet. Blair hacked into her elbow again, and focused on the clothing racks.

Scarlett was one of those weird, cheerful geeky people Blair got annoyed with. She mentioned Star Wars a lot if Blair recalled, which was a laugh. Like, hon, the movies came out in like the 80s. Why would you still talk about them when there's great modern stuff to appreciate? Ugh, weird retro people were the worse. She saw them on Whovian sites, too, and they drove Blair nuts. Like, good for you, you liked William Hartnell best. He's been dead since 1975, get over yourself.

Regardless, Blair didn't like Scarlett, so there was no real reason to say hi back or, you know, acknowledge her existence. Annoying people were like bug bites; ignore them and they go away, let them bother you and they get worse and stick around forever. So Blair paid no heed to Miss-Mcafee or whatever, and kept on looking for her tee.

Aaaaany moment now and Scarlett would just...disappear, like the little twerp she was.
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"Hey, Blair!"

A bit louder this time. Apparently, she didn't notice her. Or it wasn't Blair.

But she looked like Blair. Scarlett was pretty sure it was Blair. And that girl coughed. Blair coughed as well, often.

Maybe she was searching for something with so much concentration that she didn't hear it.

Scarlett then went towards the direction of her, slowly.
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Cicada Days
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((Irene Djezari continued from The Theatrics Formula))

It was a song and a dance to the local Tar-Jay, somewhat literally in Irene's case. She wasn't quite a walking musical number, but she was quite the dubiously-tuned hummer. Loud enough to be annoying, not loud enough to be intelligibly annoying. The bane of many an ambulatory pedestrian. At least she wasn't on show-tunes. Yet.

Her shopping list was about as existent as her thoughts at the time, thus with a blank head she was cruising the generic aisles. Spent a few moments to admire the furniture section for all it's less-than-antique pieces. Value in abundance, if she actually had a singular dollar to her name not wasted on video games and books. Most of the offerings on display weren't thematically appropriate for her room anyways. She'd never quite dropped her eight year old princess chic. Still occasionally cuddled with Mrs. Fluffle. When nobody was looking. She made an excellent elbow rest during her especially late-night streaming sessions.

The flood of her motion was diverted by the promise of cheap ready-to-wears. A shelf's worth of Merona and she swerved, cut straight through the flow of bored housewives to browse. She didn't even wear that brand, but the smattering of poorly-constructed long sleeves was a pretty enough shiny for her mind's barely coherent glory. Her own clothes for that day were a bit on the prefab side, with enough canvas in her shoes and pants to supply the next Dali. She'd spent laundry day at a friend's suffering from contact high, so she'd needed to 'borrow' from Asimah's dubiously professional wardrobe for today. The effect was something of an overly starched office worker with a side of skater punk in her graphic tee.

"Blair?" She recognized those emaciated eyes anywhere. They had been brought together by the results of Moore's law, internet friends of the finest caliber. Blair was one of the ones more acquainted with the innumerable amount of handles Irene carried herself with on the web. Case of internet multiple personality disorder aside Irene liked Blair. She spoke her mind without hesitation. Smart, easy to talk to. Blair probably subtly trolled her somehow, but that was something done by all the folk Irene knew: acquaintances, enemies, and family.

"Hey, Blair!" Irene merrily dodged through the racks on racks, kicking up a storm of clattering from her overzealous noclipping through the hanging shirts. Heaven forbid she actually path herself in a non-intrusive manner. "Sarah is stalking you, by the by." Exaggerated appraisal of Scarlett's actions at present, to be sure. That one Irene didn't know nearly as well. They shared classes and could occasionally shoot the shit about whatever. "Wait no. Scarlett." There it was. "Your name is Scarlett. I can do this. Hi Scarlett!"
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Hmm, this one wasn't the right brand but it was pretty-holy shit!

Suddenly a person burst through the clothes like the Kool-Aid guy but for tacky things. Startled, Blair stepped back and let out a little gasp. Then, she recognized the person, and laughed. Her giggle attack soon devolved into a cough fit that doubled over, but fuck if it wasn't worth it.

"Oh, shit, Irene, you gave me a heart attack." Blair choked out before righting herself and flipping her hair back over her shoulders. More quietly, she added, "Yeah, I noticed." Irene was certainly a big step up from Scarlett. She was a riot, the kind of spaz that endeared you and was hilarious to watch once they got going. Hopefully she could play these two off each other for some actual entertainment.

"Hi, uh, Scarlett. How goes it?" Blair said, plastering a smile on and looking over at the other girl. "Irene here saw you earlier, by the way. You two know each other?"

Not really a lie; she'd seen Scarlett earlier than Blair had, after all.
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Blair finally noticed her. And then there was also Irene.

"Heyo, Irene!"

Scarlett knew Irene, she was nerdy as well. Irene's sister, Asimah, also was. Oh god, that poem. It was just hilarious. Memories came up and she had to smile inwardly.

She noticed that Blair also laughed and coughed.

"Yeah, we know each other!"
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Oh, whoops. Irene hadn't quite intended to near-miss facehugger Blair. It had all been a real close run thing, owing to the cloth-borne obstructions of her vision. She smiled, clawed at a particularly insistent tee that latched to her side. The exact one Blair had been looking at mere moments before, she was now too busy having the giggles. That kept a mischievous grin plastered over her face. Until Blair started choking, at which point the smile kind of slid off and met her concerned frown on the way down.

"Yo, you alright?" Monkey see, monkey do, so Irene matched the hair flip with one of her own, her blond tresses settling from 'messy' to 'different kind of messy'. There were times when Asimah managed her mane for her prior to leaving the house, but this day clearly hadn't been one of them. She'd dealt more with honeycomb than actual comb that morning. Mmm, honeycomb cereal.

"Better take some Benadryl then," Irene mused, while a faint smile returned to nest on her countenance. The drug she'd probably been looking for was aspirin, though in her lacking defense maybe she imagined spreading Benadryl over the heart would alleviate some of the deathly pain. She considered other questions while her mind continued to be uselessly spastic over the various uses of medication. "I think we do, don't we? Like, like, you're..." An awkward pause, which Irene passed by flailing at the air like some sort of demented inflatable. "The girl Asimah tried to mack on once, right?" Like that narrowed it down much. "You two know one another? We should chill, hit up the town." An eager nod.
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Benadryl what? Ohh, for the heart attack. Yeah no, good try but no. Blair cracked a smile, though; that was a pretty funny screwup, you had to admit. She felt a little bad about freaking out Irene, though; her whole "my genes hate me" thing wasn't something she was super open about because really who needed the pity? But a fit like that? No big thing, she wanted to say, wait till you see her with a cold. But Blair said nothing about it.

Pushing a rebellious strand of red hair out of her eyes, Blair gave a semi-sincere smile at Scarlett and Irene's clumsy introductions. Honestly, if you didn't know someone, come out and say it. Don't dance around making stuff up. That ruined Blair's fun time.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just a tickle. But yeah, Irene," Blair said, sensing an opportunity to make mischief. "I'm pretty sure you did say something about Scarlett and your sis doing something together, right?"

Now, was it true? Blair had no idea. But it'd be funny, so it was worth bringing up. Plus, if she could make Miss Perky Scarlett freak out, even better!
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Blair's coughing was concerning. Scarlett should take care that she won't turn ill by getting infected.

"Yeah, Asimah wrote a poem for me, which was pretty amusing."

She had to smile. Irene said something about hitting up the town. She wondered what they'll do later.

"What're you two searching for, by the way?"

She looked at the tee Irene held. It looked pretty cool.
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Cicada Days
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No response. Didn't Blair have... something? Irene could recall the occasional 'something' being offhandedly mentioned a paltry handful of times. Once by PM, twice by sea. But Irene didn't quite have the presence of mind to recall something that had been so distant and so callously treated by her friend. Generic well-wishes and concern bled into the continuum of space-time, the matrices of data that held the forgotten friendships of an entire generation alongside their memes and Vines. "Tickle huh?" Guess that thread of thought ended there, even for Irene's eternally spotless and thoughtless mind.

"The poem, yeah! I remember now." Irene had never actually managed to read it. Not for lack of curiosity, she'd just literally forgotten to ask the few times the subject had come up. She'd have to remember to forget to ask when she got home. "Like, Asimah does like... people. In general. If she'd ever run into you she might have flirted with you as well, Blair." Irene casually threw that thought out there, then Scarlett's question drew her attention to the shirt that she was still wrestling with one hand. She appraised the knit. To her eyes it actually didn't seem that bad, maybe a bit stretchy-snug-fit for her general style, but maybe...

"I wasn't searching for anything in particular but this Atari looks cool. Swear I've seen it before, actually." A pause as she continued to idly pounce her hands over the fabric like a cat. Buy? Don't buy? Had she even brought any money somewhere in the unconquerable depths of her stupidly oversize pants pockets? "What did you come here to get, Scarlett?"
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"Oh, yeah?" Blair responded, trying not to look a little weirded out. "Well I don't know if she's my type..." Blair had nothing against gay people, duh, but she didn't feel that way. Not that there was anything wrong with that, and oh boy she was digging a hole for no reason. Whatever. Not like any girls had actually flirted with Blair before. She wasn't a flirt target in general really. How unfortunate.

"I'm looking for a tee. My old one was tragically ruined, so if you see a light pink-" Blair paused as she finally got a good look at what Irene was holding. Holy shit, this was her lucky day.

"Oh my god! That's it! That's my tee!" Blair damn near ripped it from Irene's hands, she was so excited. Instead, she moved towards the other girl like a shark with prey in her sights, taking a handhold of the tee where it dangled from Irene's hands. "This is literally the exact shirt I was looking for! Holy crap, where did you find it?"

So pleased with Irene's accidental retrieval of Blair's prize, she completely forgot Scarlett's presence. Oh well.
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Scarlett wanted to answer what she was going to buy, but then she was surprised by Blair's discovering of her tee. That was actually Irene's. Scarlett assumed that they were going to talk about the pink tee the next minutes. Let's see what happens.

Or listen. Looking around the room, drifting her vision away from the tee, she thought. She couldn't remember when she was that excited about something to buy...

Now she could: when she was younger she wanted some cool-looking shirt. She was really annoying her father about it, so he bought it to her. Silly thing is that today her former favourite shirt doesn't fit anymore.

And she doesn't care anymore, she has enough after all. Nowadays she wasn't that interested in buying something. If she has a cool shirt, she has it. If she hasn't, she hasn't. Anyway, it's more about post-materialistic stuff, right? Like her tap dancing or her writing or- hey that's a nice pair jeans.

She mentally noted to go in the direction after the discussion.
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"Your type huh? I wonder who would be then, hmm?" Irene once more offered that morsel without much in the way of intent. No tease tinged her tone, the question was one asked in pure innocence and curiosity. In another life and time, in a world which spun on a different axis, in an alternate universe ficlet, she may have been capable of actually pouncing on the proffered opportunity. Here she merely ebbed with the conversational tide, instead of surging forth for the dankest of memes. "As far as I can tell Asi was never really that picky, she'd bring home some pretty oddball 'study buddies'. I know. I had to bear witness." A moment passed where the not-so-mock PTSD caused Irene's eyes to glaze over as she stared in blank-faced horror of remembrance at the understandably weirded-out employee stocking a nearby shelf. "I've heard things that I can never unhear... but whatevs." She recovered with the usual spring in her step, nearly bounced there and then with shirt in hand until she realized she was still talking to people.

"Oh, this thingy? It'd look good on you wouldn't it?" Thanks to the relative lack of chest the tight fit would probably have been more appropriate on Blair than Irene anyways. Or something. Irene didn't really know how that whole 'good cut and fit' nonsense worked itself out. Her question of 'wouldn't it' was just that, an ignoramus question. "I found it like literally right while I was coming over here, I must have, uh, accidentally grabbed it or something." Wouldn't be the stupidest thing she'd ever non-purposely done in a Target.

Irene surrendered the clothing to her friend with a nod of understanding. 'Take this, it's dangerous out there alone' and what not. Scarlett was wistfully looking off at a rack of pants. Maybe. Irene didn't exactly read others emotional states well. Misty-eyed sentiment and eyes fogged over from the pain of indigestion had the awkward tendency to become one and the same in Irene's poorly wired brains. Wait, had Scarlett answered the question Irene had asked? She already couldn't remember.
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Thank god for Irene, saving the day in more ways than one. Blair would totally hug her if they weren't in public and, more importantly, if she wasn't about to have another fit.

"Hold on." Blair said in a strained voice, and turned away. Luckily this one wasn't so bad, as Blair coughed into the crook of her elbow in a practiced manner, but a little bit of phlegm came up that she had to swallow or spit out. So she swallowed. Yeah, not pretty.

"Sorry." Blair said, grimacing at the tightness in her chest. Inhaling as deeply as she could, Blair forced a grin back onto her face and looked back at Scarlett, who appeared lost in thought. Poor thing, that kind of effort couldn't be good for her.

"But yeah, thanks again! Hey, later on when we're done shopping, you wanna grab some lunch or something?"
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