Day 56: Pet Supply Place (late afternoon)

[lovecrafty]

Pet Supply Place, Rose read, and considered the ramifications.  Any decision branched pathways, and she was not Dave, walking them all at once.  She could not see -- nor See -- where this road led, besides an old stop sign and, beyond it, a residential area.

She opened the door.  She was in need of the familiar.  No, A familiar.  Someone to

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[mirthfulness]

Honk.

Honk honk.

Gamzee was pleased. Apparently the card he'd been given had just enough money on it for him to be able to purchase a simple bicycle horn. He would have preferred many different bicycle horns, as one didn't exactly make for a decent horn pile, but one horn was better than no horns at all. It was comforting to be able to hear that familiar noise again, and the troll ignored any irritated looks he received as he walked down the street squeezing the little rubber end. Simple pleasures were always the best.

Now if only the other restaurant he had a coupon for carried Faygo he'd really be in business.

Honk honk.He paused in his wandering outside the pet supply shop. Just the thought of a shop like that left him wondering what sort of animals humans kept as pets in the first place. He ceased the honking of his horn (even Gamzee knew he'd get shooed out if he started scaring the animals) and made his way inside where he was greeted by the cutest assortment of little beasts he'd ever laid eyes on. Immediately

[lovecrafty]

"Mama, mama," was the only intelligible part of the reply.  This was not impossible, but Rose surmised it to be an nonsequitur rather than a claim to be the progeny of her deceased male cat.

She ignored the predictable twinge the word brought with it; her conflict with her parental unit was longstanding, and the associated emotions well-understood.  Or so she told herself.

A voice behind her betrayed the identity of the one who approached.  "Gamzee."  She continued to study the parrots.  "Quite striking.  Talkative, too, if not especially eloquent."  Like so many people here.  Symbolic, really.  "I wouldn't mind having one of them along, but it seems our captors have other ideas."  She flashed the cash card.  "We're back at square one."  

[mirthfulness]

"Shit. I didn't all up realize we'd got to square two." He really needed to follow along a lot better if that was the case. He held up his horn, giving it a weak squeeze that let out a pathetically small squeak of air with hardly any real honk to it. "I got this, though. Best motherfuckin' purchase to be made."

As long as you were Gamzee Makara, anyway. To anyone else it would likely be considered something of a waste.

"You got much on your little plastic money changer? I think some motherfuckers got more than others, so I was all bein' stuck with a low dice roll. Honk." If this had been written, the comment would have been followed by a smiling face with a clown nose, but as it wasn't he just settled for a goofy smile of his own.

[lovecrafty]

Rose pulled the needles from her bag, and then flipped one of them in a fucking sweet arc to her other hand. He wasn't the only one who knew how to accessorize, though what use a horn would be was a mystery for the ages.

Or just to ask Gamzee about, if she wanted to know the answer. He wanted her to ask, she could tell. Such transparent ploys, barely worthy of notice. She didn't rise to the bait.

"I didn't have much opportunity for comparison. Nevertheless, I was able to upgrade my arsenal." Only from Complete Rookie to Minor Imp Annoyance, but it was still a step up the ladder.

Oh, very well.

"What's the horn for?"

[mirthfulness]

What was the horn for? That was a silly question, wasn't it? What did anyone used a horn for? He smiled once again and almost demonstrated until he remembered where he was.

"Horns are all bein' for honkin', sister. I got plenty of them back home like what clowns use." Or whatever 'home' was at this point. His place of residence before being popped into this new location and given different skin. Gamzee turned to the brightly-colored featherbeast in the cage. Surely it got what he was talking about? "Honk honk. Right, little motherfucker?"

To his amusement, it was only the last word that the animal even attempted to repeat. Welp.

[lovecrafty]

"Ha, ha

[mirthfulness]

"Karkat? Nah, sis. I ain't all heard from that motherfucker yet. Word's all havin' it that Tavros is around somewhere, but I ain't seen him neither." Maybe he'd be able to catch sight of him when they headed back. At least he assumed they were headed back, unless this was like the next level of the game or something and they'd be moving on to another area from here. He really just had no clue what was going down.

Wait, she's said something about practicality, hadn't she? What was the subject of their conversation again? "Horn's all sorts of practical. Makes me feel all at ease and shit." Not that he ever really wasn't at ease. but it was the principle of the matter.

"I use clubs for fightin' with, usually." And who knew if five dollars would buy a set of those? He hadn't really been thinking about it at the time.

[lovecrafty]

Clubs? The first thing that came to mind was golf clubs, which was about as fitting as...about as fitting as the sentimental spikes lodged firmly in her own strife specibus. It had been perhaps the most use she'd ever gotten from a birthday present before she'd started stabbing imps with them; at some point genuine fondness might be a quantifiable risk.

Good thing they were in an entire store full of sentimental heartstring-tugging fluffy things and the arcane instruments of their maudlin owners. She shrugged. "You can't say I didn't warn you."

She smirked. At least one of them was prepared for whatever might next be thrown their way.