Consumer Science 101

[theworst]

Date & Time: March 4th, late evening/early morning
Location: in one of the stores getting supplies (read: hair care products)
Characters: Jeff Winger (bedheaded) & Britta Perry (theworst)
Summary: Narrowly 'escaping' the Masked after being chipped.
Warnings: Not sure yet, but we shall See

Britta stood in the aisle, debating between two different holding foams. Her free hand went up to rub at the spot where the chip was inserted earlier before quickly removing it and letting it linger between the two products. This was what she had snuck out for, she wasn't going to Britta it now. She internally told herself to focus. This was important. This was what had finally pushed both her and Jeff over the cabin fever edge.

Anyway, once she had everything they needed she could sneak home and if she could get in quietly enough Jeff wouldn't even know she was gone. She would tell him the hair care fairy had visited. Either that or she would tell Jeff in the morning and gloat at her victory - minus the whole telling him about being chipped part. She could figure out how to handle that on her own, somehow.

Comments

[bedheaded]

Jeff still had his paintball gun tucked away under his jacket, his collar popped up around his neck. That was not because he had been grabbed and chipped like the star of a new Discovery Channel documentary. It was because it was cold.

That said, the assholes better not have done anything that'd scar. He wasn't quite sure how he would exact revenge with a paintball gun that apparently shot out smokescreens, but he would find a way.

If he was out here looking for Britta, he might as well try to get them something for their hair. Oh, and food. He dropped into the salon, keeping an eye out for Britta but mostly looking for that one gel he found that worked pretty well.

He stopped shortly down the aisle from Britta and smiled. He wasn't going to wait to get her attention--who knew how long that would take--so instead he spoke. "Hey, Britta. Did you get my text?"

He held up her netbook.

"Huh. Guess not. Is all your intelligence stored in the shampoo we just ran out of, because this was pretty stupid even for you."

[theworst]

Britta jumped at the voice, knocking over both foams. She bent over to pick them up, looking up at Jeff as she did so.

"Yeah, because I'm going to carry around a netbook while I'm being all stealthtastic. Real smart, Winger."

She stood back up, settled on one foam and tossed it into her basket. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or worried to see Jeff here. Wait, why was Jeff here? He should still be asleep and she should have been back to their place before he even noticed she was gone.

"Speaking of stupid, why are you even out here? You know these Masked guys are serious, right?"

She felt her stomach flip flop, stuck between wanting to tell what happened yet wanting to keep it to herself, too. Why was he out here? It made everything so much more complicated somehow. She frowned, and then turned on her heels to pick out a mousse now. Mostly she turned around because she felt strangely guilty about not coming clean to Jeff. Her stubbornness outweighed her guilt though, so she knew she wouldn't tell him about the chip anytime soon.

[bedheaded]

"Yeah, I do. Which is why I found it really surprising when I woke up and realized you'd gone outside to where they were." He holds up a hand. "No. I'm sorry. I lied. I didn't find it surprising at all."

He looked at the two foams and quickly picked out his favourite. "We're buying these and then heading back before the gimp from Pulp Fiction and his happy family can turn you into the Manchurian Candidate. Is there anything else you wanted while you were here?"

[theworst]

Britta still didn't turn around to look at Jeff, keeping her gaze fixed on the products in front of her. That way she wouldn't have to look at him or think about why she felt the need to hide seemingly important things all the time.

"I was coming out to get us stuff. It's stupid for two of us to go out. It doubles our chances of whatever you just Abed'd."

She turned around to shoot Jeff a look. "You should've stayed home. I can take care of myself," she said, before moving around him to look at some conditioners.

Britta had settled on telling herself she was mad at him for thinking she needed help or rescuing. It was the easiest option for her.

"If you're that scared you can go. I'll be fine on my own."

[bedheaded]

"I'd love to have done that, but you didn't even take your netbook so I could contact you, so instead I'm here."

If it was an admission of caring, it didn't matter quite as much with how condescending he made it. "Since I'm stuck out here because of you, we should stick together." He pushed his jacket back to show his paintball gun. "Team-ups last longer, remember?"

[theworst]

"Why are you even awake at this hour anyway? And what were you doing looking for me? I could've been asleep, you know." Britta turned around, pointing a finger at Jeff. "You just walk into people's rooms without even asking? That's an invasion of privacy and - "

She stopped as she looked down at his paintball gun, and gave a resigned sigh. "All right, fine. Do we need to get food, too?"

Because for Britta her one and only priority had been hair care and skincare products. Food was rather low on her list of needs and she knew it was just as low ranking for Jeff, too.

[bedheaded]

"Probably, but we should carry light." So priorities in weight went to hair care. "We'll just grab some vegetables to cover us for the next few days. If we have to, we can eat the food they have in the building." Only it didn't meet his health requirement needs.

[theworst]

"Sounds good, John Good..man," Britta said, frowning at her failing to do the rhyming game correctly. She shot Jeff a look before he could say anything. "Shut up."

She looked at everything she had gathered before looking up at Jeff. "I think I've got everything. Do you need anything else?"

[bedheaded]

He let his expression speak for him, then glanced around. Britta had many flaws, but not getting proper hair care products wasn't one of them. "We're good."

[theworst]

Britta nodded, making her way towards the register to pay for their items and exit. Once she paid, she glanced towards the door. If it was just her on her own she'd walk home like no big thing, but Jeff was here, too, and Jeff did need to use stealth and stamina and other things to get out of here.

She turned her head and looked up at Jeff. "All right, Winger, got any brilliant battle plans for getting out of Dodge?"

[bedheaded]

"Well, Marshal Dillon, we're going to play paintball. And we're going to win." He had managed to get out of the building without getting caught with it. It couldn't be too impossible to get back in the same way. He had only gotten caught because he hadn't grabbed his paintball gun in time. "I can use this to create a smokescreen, which is ridiculous, but also true, and we can use that distraction to get back in. The entrance will be too guarded, but I left a first floor window unlocked for us. Send them one way with a smokescreen and we can climb in there." He didn't ask whether or not Britta would be able to pull off that stunt. He'd seen what she could do in heeled boots.

[theworst]

Britta couldn't help but look amused. "Your paintball gun creates a smokescreen? And we've completely discounted this is Abed, right?"

Any other misgivings or doubts were forgotten. This was paintball. There wasn't time for any of those things. She had stuffed the bag of products she grabbed into a messenger bag she was able to grab before she left her apartment. She stuck her head out to get a look and see if the coast was clear. When it was, she took out her own gun and signaled for Jeff.

"Try to keep up, Tango."

She held the door open for him with her shoe until she saw he would be able to grab it, before playing incognito as she slunk down the streets back to their apartment.

[bedheaded]

"Wait! Who told you that?" At each corner where they stopped, he swept the street before moving forward. He had done this with Britta twice before, so they fell into a natural rhythm of movement. Greendale might not have prepared him for a conversation in Spanish, but it definitely prepared him for this.

They had a relatively easy time of it until the apartments. A handful had massed near the door, but there were others patrolling the windows. Jeff peered through the bushes, trying to assess the best targets. "See that window? That's the one I left unlocked. When I fire the smokescreen, you open it up and go through. I'll come after you."

[theworst]

"What, are you ashamed? Or just jealous you didn't get to be Sundance?"

Britta's gaze followed where Jeff was pointing. She reached her free hand out and grabbed him by the upper arm. "Wait, no, why am I going first? You shoot your smokescreen and then go. I'll cover your back and come after."

[bedheaded]

"Just curious about how many people you agreed to whore yourself out to when you visited my firm."

There wasn't any point arguing with Britta about this. Paintball meant no time for elaborate plans. "Fine. But don't wait around. On my count of three."

He watched the Masked move past their target window. He backed up, stepped a bit away, so they could run around the other side and avoid catching attention if anyone looked to where the shot was from.

"One... two... three!"

Jeff fired. A smokescreen didn't appear. "What?" He shot again, and this time it did. With that delay already, Jeff leaped over the hedge and raced to the window, throwing it open and himself through it before swinging around to fire paintballs at nearby masked. All that really mattered was for Britta to get through.

[theworst]

Britta's mouth opened and shut in shock, like a fish gasping for air, but she didn't have time to banter, as their plan was all ready in gear. Britta jumped over after him, landing neatly on her very high heel booted feet - and they say Britta'ing something is bad - before walking backwards so she could cover Jeff's back.

Britta's pace was slightly slower than Jeff's until the smoke screen appeared. She couldn't help being impressed and she paused for a moment to marvel at it, before she turned on her heels and ran full force after Jeff. A paintball went flying by her on its way to one of the Masked, and she slid feet first to avoid the paintball itself. She pushed herself up quickly and ran the rest of the way to the window, signalling for Jeff to get out of the way and clear a path for her to get inside.

[bedheaded]

Jeff did exactly that--and when he did, he lifted his gun, frowning at it. Why the hell did it only create a smokescreen some of the time? He was going to have to work that out. The second Britta was through the door, he shut the window and headed to the elevator. "Nice moves there, Cash."

[theworst]

"Cash, huh? I can't tell if that's a step up or a step down from being called a whore," Britta said nonchalantly, pushing herself up and following after him.

Britta stood by the elevator next to Jeff, sticking her gun into the back of her pants. Her face twisted as she stared at the elevator numbers and waited for it to reach their floor. It was good to at least have something she could tell herself she was pissed at Jeff about, since that diverted any guilt or obligation to come clean - at least for now.

[bedheaded]

He tucked away his own weapon. "It's a step up. It means you're partnered with me." When they got to their apartment, he threw off his jacket, frowned a little, and then said, "I'm going to take the bathroom for a second." Without waiting for a reply, he did as he promised. There he threw off his shirt and tried to use the mirror look at his back. He eventually resorted to using a pocket mirror, but he couldn't get any good sense of it.

Oh God. He was pretty sure there was a mark there. What if it scarred? What if it was there forever?

[theworst]

"Are you sure you don't have it the other way around?" Britta kept her jacket on and went into her bedroom without responding, slamming the door shut and locking it for good measure. She threw her jacket on her bed and her gun on top of that. She rummaged through her stuff until she found a hair tie and a hand mirror. She threw her hair up in a sloppy bun, and then moved over to the mirror on her wall. Using the hand mirror, she tried to get a look at her back, contorting to try to get the best angle. Her free hand reached back to try to touch the spot.

Oh God. There was a mark, which might scar. Weren't these people supposed to be high-tech? Shouldn't they have super stealth technology so no one would even know they were chipped? She had never so much as gotten a tattoo or a piercing, yet now she was marked, probably for life. Just great. She put the mirror back down on her dresser before heading to the bed, shoving her jacket and gun onto the floor. She flopped onto her bed, covering her face with her pillow as she considered her options. She did wear her hair down most of the time anyway.

[bedheaded]

Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. He walked out into the sitting room. "Hey, Britta. Would you come out here a second?" He was going to tell her anyway. He might as well use her for a second opinion.

[theworst]

Britta sat up in bed as she heard Jeff calling her. She stared at the door, frowning as she debated not going out. Finally she pulled off her boots and got out of bed. She made sure to pull her hair down before she padded out into the main room, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared up at Jeff.

"What's up?"

[bedheaded]

"So, I got chipped." And he waited for the reaction. He figured he should get it before going on.

[theworst]

Britta stared up at Jeff, her arms falling to her side. She wasn't sure what to say, so she looked down instead, holding her hands in front of her.

Finally she looked back up at him, wringing her hands. "Are you okay?" She maintained her distance, despite thinking maybe this is the part where she should go forward. "You're not going to get that cleansing thing they talked about before, right?"

[bedheaded]

"I am not hugely eager to keep this in my back, but more importantly, I want to know if there's a mark." He said it all matter-of-factly, in the same level tone he used to talk non-hostile witnesses into giving the statements he wanted from them. "Would you mind checking my back to see how much of a mark there is?"