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Entry tags:
[ looks at nachos ] i'm busy
Who: howard stark + you??????
Where: SHIELD's electronics & repair
When: march 1. same day as the intro
What: howard tries to navigate this strange world of memory loss and wigwams (walkmans) by smoking heavily and shouting at people.
Warnings: everything under the sun and in the gutter.
[open]
Where: SHIELD's electronics & repair
When: march 1. same day as the intro
What: howard tries to navigate this strange world of memory loss and wigwams (walkmans) by smoking heavily and shouting at people.
Warnings: everything under the sun and in the gutter.
[open]
( down on main street resides the primary shopping center of wayward pines. every morning, promptly at eight o'clock, the stores open and the streets hum with the sound of commerce. french's general store, the butcher's block, between the spines — all established and respected institutions in the town of wayward pines. and then there's SHIELD's electronics & repair. against the mostly serene color scheme of muted earth tones, the store sticks out like a sore thumb with its tackiness and gaudiness. the ever constant loop of kenny loggins on the store's speakers doesn't endear the store to its residents either. but, considering that SHIELD's the only place in town to buy radios and get toasters repaired, the residents tolerate the store's... differing aesthetic.
upon entering the store, the customer's eyes will immediately fall on a room situated behind the glass counter. the dimly lit room is a forest of machines: disassembled toasters crowded on tables, toolboxes stacked against a metal cabinet on the far end, wires hang from hooks like vines, and, in the air, there's an ever present metallic smell of a soldering iron. during business hours, the stooped figure of howard stark can be seen diligently repairing any item a customer brings in. blocking the room is a glass counter that takes up a good third of the store floor. the glass counters contain camcorders, handheld game consoles, and the more expensive walkmans, showcasing them in a bright fluorescent light meant to attract customers and moths. to the customer's immediate right are the electronics: radios, record players, portable television sets, the cheaper walkmans, and a few remote control toys. next to it is a decent sized music collection: records (both 12" and 11"), 8 tracks, cassette tapes, but only a small amount of cds. to the immediate left are the household appliances: toasters, blenders, and microwaves. presiding over this and always eager to help are the employees of SHIELD's. currently, the staff numbers only a few (allison argent, malia tate, and victor goodsprings), but they're a good, dependable bunch. howard can always rely on them to handle the customers while he concentrates on repairs.
except today when allison leaves for — something. (honestly, howard wasn't paying attention and only realized she'd left after he yelled her name four times and didn't receive a reply.) then he sends goodsprings home, unable to stand being alone with him for too long. (frankly, the kid creeps him out. always smiling, always helpful, always polite with his "good morning, mr. stark" and "yes sir." it's just... unsettling. that plus the ever constant worry of losing consciousness and waking up in strange places equals an ever-growing sense of paranoia that howard does not need.)
the sound of a bell echos through the empty store. for exactly three seconds, howard waits, hoping that whoever entered will figure no one is here and leave. but there's no sound of the door opening, the bell chiming, and the door closing. looks like whoever came in is too smart or determined for the ole "pretend no one's home" trick. damn. with a heavy sigh, howard stubs out his cigarette in an ashtray. the harsh scrapping of the metal stool against the linoleum flooring cuts through the silence of the store as he stands up and walks out of his workroom.
with his three day stubble, unkempt hair, slouched posture, and the "i shot j.r." t-shirt he's sporting, he may not look the part of a business owner, but — jesus wept — he is. learn from howard, children: when you believe in yourself, something, something, something, money. despite his appearance though, there's a nimble and appealing energy about him: the dark eyes that twinkle in spite of the bags under his eyes, the animated tone of his words, and the wry smile sliding across his face. ) Can I help you?
no subject
The sign said open but no one seemed to be inside, maybe they were just in the back. For a minute she just looks around, why was there so many retro items in here? Picking up a walkman, Skye turned it over in her hand before she heard movement and quickly put it back down.]
Oh, uh-
[Did the guy sleep here?]
Hi. I was wondering if you sell hotspots here.
no subject
confusion creases his face, replacing the self-assured smile that he'd normally get around a beautiful woman with a frown. his mind struggles to conjure up an image for the term "hotspot" and the only thing his mind spits out is a hotplate. chances are though that that's not what she's referring to. ) Uh actually, I'm not entirely sure. You can definitely take a look around and see if we do.
( does she mean a radiator? or a literal... hot spot? because if she moves four inches to the right, she'll be right under the vent and feel the warm air. he'll admit that he has absolutely no idea what she's referring to but — waking up in this strange town and having to relearn everything has been an experience for him. when he returned to work a few days ago, he had to figure out what most of the items sold here were. walkmans, televisions, microwaves — all machines he had no knowledge of. but he learned quick and now he can fix 'em easy-peasy. if she was to tell howard what's a "hotspot" then he could definitely help her find one. maybe even build one if she gave him specifics. )
no subject
...Right. Thanks.
[This place was a mess, and it seemed like a lot of it was not new items, but used once. Hence the whole 'repair' aspect. Adjusting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder, Skye moved past him to look around. Everything screamed 90s here, which was odd.]
People actually want you to fix walkmans?
no subject
his tone is carefully measured, but injected with enough sarcastic wit so as to not arouse suspicion in the woman and cause her to flee. ) I ain't in the business of babysittin' people's walkmans.
no subject
Well good luck selling them. They're severely outdated.
[Looking around, Skye's brows knitted together in confusion.]
A lot of this stuff is. Did someone just get rid of all of the stuff they've been hoarding?
no subject
( he can't say with any certainty where his stock came from. one morning, he arrived at the store and it was all here. the next morning he mentioned needing more copper wires. a few hours later, after lunch, he discovered a box full of copper wires at the front door. no postmark, no identifying factors: just a cardboard box warped in brown paper and tied with twine. just another mark to his ever-running tally of "strange shit occurring in wayward pines." )
no subject
I'm sorry, what?
[Being here was already overwhelming confusing. This was just added onto that. She had been warned, multiple times in fact, to not talk about the past or how odd things were around here. Yeah, clearly that was going well for her.]
no subject
Did I lapse into Yiddish? ( because that is something that's happening more and more often lately. he'll begin a sentence in english and end it calling argent (for example) a "mensch." it's not necessarily a bad thing, per say, but it does prove annoying when it sounds like he's got a loogie stuck in his throat when, in actuality, he's just saying a word that starts with a hard "ch." )
no subject
...No? What do you mean it's one giant circle?
[Give her a break, it's been a long day.]