closed; we're working on a suntan, we're seeing lots of new bands

[lazyinlove]

Date & Time: Dec 28-30
Location: Venice, California, 2015
Characters: Peter Rumancek and Stanley Lucerne
Summary: The boys go on a sunshine run, with a side of open mic night. Officially, they're supposed to be getting some supplies. Which, you know, they might. But first, thawing out and kicking back.
Warnings: Open mic night. Dirty mouths. Teenage boy stuff. Shoplifting. Maybe some mild drug use but nothing scary. They're not into violence, at least?


Stanley had stripped off the farmer's boots, Lily's sweater, and Jaime's coat before they left, assuming that it had to be fairly warm in California. He could handle anything that wasn't snow. Maybe he should have kept the sweater, but it didn't feel like it when they arrived to a sunny late morning. The temperature was almost 70, and that was such a relief that Stan opened his arms and fell backward into the sand with a soft, contented sigh. Sure, they had an objective to get around to. In a minute. The sun felt too good, soaking into his skin and bones. He shaded his eyes from it and glanced up at the spot where he was fairly sure Peter was standing, unable to help making a mildly giddy remark while he soaked it all in.

"I can feel my fingers."

Comments

[werewolfing]

"Sorry, didn't know how you took your coffee." Peter flipped a pack of cigarettes into Stanley's sandy lap, then started to tap out his own. "Should've bought you some sunscreen, maybe." He shrugged and lit his cigarette, took a long drag before exhaling up into the air over his head.

"Good nap?"

[lazyinlove]

The coffee was fine, he didn't have particularly strong preferences one way or another about coffee. The caffeine was the point of it, and the toasty warm feeling and reassuring taste. You're not on the moon now, a good cup of coffee said. Or even a shitty cup of Starbucks, not that Stan really knew the difference.

The cigarettes, however, were what got his salivary glands going. Oh, god. He hadn't had one of those in way too long. The pack was eagerly snatched up and opened, and Stanley leaned forward to steal a light from Peter's flame. Oh, god. That was such a heavenly lungful of tar. He hummed softly, appreciating it for a moment before responding.

"It's good. This whole...yeah. It's good."

Not quite fully conscious yet, but starting to come around. The caffeine and nicotine help.

[werewolfing]

Peter chuckled. "Cigarettes, right?" Like that summed up everything there was to say about it. He shook his head. "Fuckin' a, cigarettes." Somehow that was the thing that brought it home, that they're back in modernity, in a world at least mostly like the one he came from. A woman in a bikini top and yoga walked by and looked at them oddly, and Peter gave her a salute with his coffee.

[lazyinlove]

Stanley watched the woman walk past silently, not offering so much as a smile. It was tough to think whenever they did that, for frustratingly inexplicable reasons. Instead, he sipped the coffee when the swaying motion of her hips stopped hypnotizing him in that unfortunate way that hips sometimes did, and thought for a moment.

"I asked for a couple days. So. Uh. Guess we're here for a while?"

[werewolfing]

Peter's eyerake was no less thorough, but maybe slightly less mesmerized. "Damn, knew there was something else I missed about good weather." Then he tuned in to what Stanley had said. "Couple days, huh? Whelp. Should be able to scare up enough cash for a shitty motel. Wonder if they card around here." He shrugged. "Besides getting piss drunk and stocking up on smokes and the shit we're actually here to do, any plans?"

[lazyinlove]

Hotel? Oh, man. Could they do that? Could they have beds to sleep in tonight? Stan glances up quickly, the spell of the opposite sex completely broken by the thought of creature comforts. Oh, man. There might be a hot, running shower. That they could use as long as they wanted, no five minute timer. Oh, man. They could eat. Not just sweet oats or potato and leek broth from the farmer's gentle wife when he was away. Real, actual food. His mouth watered at just the thought.

"What? Plans? Oh. Yeah. I mean, no. Just that stuff."

[werewolfing]

Peter had no idea which of the things he'd just said grabbed Stanley's attention, but he figured it didn't really matter. It hadn't occurred to him that all of these things hadn't occurred to Stan until his face went all surprised like that. "You any kind of pickpocket? We got enough to eat on but a motel is somethin' else."

[lazyinlove]

"Never tried it before." Stan admitted, shrugging. But they were in the wealthiest area he'd ever been to in his life, so if anyone could take a bit of pickpocketing on the chin it oughta be these people. Why not?

"What do I do?"

[werewolfing]

Peter gave a little laugh and scratched under his chin. "Walk with me and watch. This isn't one of those explainable skills." Peter wasn't sure anybody ever explained it to him, exactly. Nic had taught him slight of hand, the dozen silly little coin and card and juggling tricks he knew, and making other things disappear became just another one of those tricks. "I'd like to not be talking to any fuckin' cops."

[lazyinlove]

Probably best to leave out the fact that Stan has regular run ins with the law. Nothing's ever stuck to his ribs before with that shit anyway, so it's alright. He'll just have to try not to get them both caught. He can do that. He casually falls into pace beside Peter and watches what the other boy does.

[werewolfing]

Peter wasn't going to share his stories about the police, so it's all good. His method of pickpocketing was pretty standard but effective--mostly he made wallets and other items in unprotected purses or pockets disappear into his pockets when people stopped in groups at a crosswalk or in front of a store, and then dropped wallets emptied of cash on other corners when they stopped again. He picked his targets carefully, aiming for people who obviously weren't going to be hurt by losing what he took.

[lazyinlove]

It didn't look hard when Peter did it. Then again, he was trying to watch from the corner of his eye. Staring at someone was a sure way to get other people's attention focused on them.

Stan was nervous to try it himself, though. He hesitated, and after a moment broke away from the general crowd to sit down for a second and try to shake the nerves. He'd do it, he could totally...try. He just needed a minute to steel himself. It was a new and weird experience. But it would probably be good practice, before the pharmacy. That was going to take a lot of nerve.

[werewolfing]

After a moment, Peter followed and sat down beside Stanley, who was looking very obviously nervous. He bumped Stanley's shoulder with his shoulder.

"Hey, chill. It's cool, nobody's twisting your arm."

[lazyinlove]

Stan smiled a little at that. Did it show? It probably showed. He was always such a shitty liar. But it kinda sucked to leave everything up to Peter, too.

"It works, you know."

Twisting his arm, that is. People did it all the time, and he always eventually did what they wanted him to. It was nice that Peter had never done that to him, actually. He felt an odd rush of something at the realization. Gratitude, maybe? Friendly affection? He liked Peter. Peter didn't want to break everything and everyone around him the way most people seemed to.

But he was still in over his head when it came to picking pockets. Stanley stretched his legs out and glanced up, skyward, admiring the warm sunlight again. They had caffeine and nicotine and warm, glorious sunlight. A bed would be great, but even if they didn't get that, it wouldn't be a bad trip. Or maybe he just didn't mind because even before getting science-magic zapped into crazyland he'd spent plenty of nights sleeping on floors and pool decks and the swings in people's backyards. And Peter didn't seem too high maintenance either. They'd be fine.

He was about to ask about that when the poster in the window directly across from them caught his attention. $2, 500 prize? That would be useful. And for an open mic night? Shit. They really had crash landed in some alternate reality where everyone had cash to throw around, hadn't they?

"Maybe there's something else."

[werewolfing]

"Yeah, not really a fan. I'll save it for the important shit." Arm-twisting, he meant. Most of the time, Peter was pretty allergic to authority from either side of the thing. Taking orders chafed for obvious reasons, and giving them implied responsibility, which also chafed. If Stanley didn't want to pick pockets, that was fine by him.

"Something else?" Peter raised his eyebrows at Stanley, then followed his gaze to the poster. $2,500 would go a long way to solve their problems. "Shee-it. Can you sing?"

[lazyinlove]

"I'm not tone deaf."

That was as close to a yes as Stan was comfortable giving. He sang sometimes, sure, but he couldn't be sure whether it was any good or not. No one had ever bothered to tell him one way or the other. "You?"

[werewolfing]

Peter shrugged. "I'm no choirboy, but nobody's ever complained." He looked at the sign contemplatively, scratching under his chin. There were worse things to do with their time, really, even if neither of them had a shot at winning. "I'd need a guitar, though."

[lazyinlove]

"Mine's in 2011."

And on another continent, but that's beside the point.

[werewolfing]

"Yeah mine's in 2012 and across the country and in another world." Peter shrugged and sipped his coffee. "So I guess we should see if they've got a shit one in a goodwill somewhere or we can try to bum one off somebody."

[lazyinlove]

"Guess so." That's a good idea, though. Find a guitar, polish up a song of some sort. They can do that, right? It's worth a shot.

[werewolfing]

"Right. Wonder where you find a real second-hand store in moneyville." Peter rolled his eyes and stood up. "Hope you like walking, Stanley, cause we're going on a fuckin' quest."

[lazyinlove]

He doesn't like walking, actually. He does it a lot these days out of necessity, but the idea still makes him groan. Can't they at least take the bus? They've gotta have like $2.50 by now.

[werewolfing]

In theory, probably. In fact, one passes by to remind Peter of that. Most places he's lived for an extended period have been too rural for public transit.

"Or we could take the bus, if we knew where it or we were going, lazy."

[lazyinlove]

"Think there's a circle route?" Because that's the answer, you know. It'll go past various groups of shops and they can hop out wherever looks promising.

Not that he can deny that last bit. He kind of is lazy, yep.

[werewolfing]

"Probably. Usually is, right? We can give that a shot." Peter didn't have any particular sense of urgency. They'd find something or they wouldn't. He did, though, take a minute to commit the name of the bar and the cross-street they're near to memory. Getting lost seems really likely.