You Gotta Look Em In The Eyes

Cast: date: '22 August 2012'
place: 'Murdoch''s - Lambeth'
participants: 'Long John and Teresa'
synopsis: 'Long John pawns some stuff while Teresa burns his face when he gets a little touchy. '
log: "Customers seem to be few and far between today and most of those that have shown up, have been the selling variety and not the buying variety. No classes today, Teresa is at the shop but not so much in a working capacity as inventory taking capacity. Shuffling out stuff that has passed the buy back date, and needs to be tossed onto the floor, a space found if there is space, so that it can be purchased. \n\nOne parental unit in the back, on a break, the demin and layered tank topped blonde is currently behind the counters that are populated by jewelry, re-arranging things. Hair a ponytail and combat boots, she's a little at odds with this slightly more upscale shop.\n\nThe deafening roar of a poorly-muffled motorcycle shakes at the windows and rattles the bones, moments before an overgrown leather-clad hand shoves open the door. Long John ducks as he steps inside, the odor of exhaust and grease chasing him through the door as he glances around, frowns, and then -really- looks around. He might just be a bull in a china shop, and this clearly isn't the pawn shop he was looking for!\n\n\"Welcome to Murdoch's.\" By rote this is spoken by Teresa, who looks up ever so briefly from her re-arranging, then back down. \"whatcha looking for?\" An American, in this china shop it would seem. There's no one coming in from the back, and just her it seems, with little trays bearing the jewelry in front of her.\n\nLong John stops in place at the voice, eyes tracking to Teresa. Then down at her backside, with a sweep to her boots and back up to see what she's doing with the jewelry. \"Bloody yank!\" the biker exclaims, and and his face lights up with a laugh. \"Har, I'm jus' fucking with you. An American! Ain't seen too many of us here yet.\" He meanders her way, eyes straying to the jewelry long enough for him to wonder, \"What the hell are ya doin' on this side of the pond, in a … pawn boutique?\" The last word sounds like an abberation from the biker's usual lexicon.\n\n\"I loved spotted dick\" There's a glance back over to him, never meeting eyes, but lingering on him long enough. \"And my father's english. Family business\" She offers up, starting to slip trays back into the cabinet and then lock the door. \"Afraid I don't have any bikes for you to look at or any helmets. Might have a leather jacket or two if you like\" There's a tension to her body that there wasn't when he first walked in. \"What can I do you for?\"\n\nLong John shakes his head as he draws up along side Teresa, and he chuckles low before a hand comes to rest on the counter beside her. \"Yeah, I heard them English people weren't too clean. Probably something ta do with their girlfriends' crooked teeth, eh?\" He laughs at that, and reaches out to give Teresa's near shoulder a hearty clap with a big meaty hand. \"Helmets are fer pussies anyway. I got me a cover fer when I see the bobbies, if it looks like they's drivin' something that can catch me. I got me some things ya might want ta buy.\" He gives her a once-over again, smirking. \n\n\"You ah, you -are- a pawn broker, right? Don't see no suspenders, bald head, gut, an' forty-five. If I knew England was this classy I would'a come here years ago! Here, check these out.\" Long John leans back, fishing in a pocket, and with a motion like a rolling of dice he splays across the glass display two dirty watches (one might be gold), four gold-capped teeth, and what must have been an MP3 player from the early 2000s.\n\nTeresa gives, a bit, under the weight of the clap on her shoulder and she's not so keen on the being touched. But he's an American, and he has stuff to sell. Stuff that is questionable. Like the teeth. Blonde brows lift at the sight of those and every so delicately, they are placed to the side. That, it seems, is the no buy pile. Gold capped or no. He can argue with her father later if he likes. The watches though, and MP3 player are looked at. \"What are you wanting for the watches and the player?\n\n\"Hey now,\" John says, reaching for the teeth. \"Them's real gold. Fourteen-kay. Bit 'em myself!\" He grins and eyebrow waggels, and slides them back into the pile. \"If you gotta hammer handy I'll take them teeth off so's you can get jus' the gold weight. Bulova's worth eighty, Kenneth Cole's worth forty, but I know you gotta make some inna middle. An' fuck if I know what that little black doohickey is worth. Call it sixty plus the gold, little lady, an' you got yerself a deal.\"\n\n\"Oh, I figure it's probably real gold, I just have an aversion to handling the body parts of other people. Call me crazy\" Actually, please don't. But she leans over the counter, fishing behind it and eventually handing over a small hammer and gesturing to the desk. \"Scratch it up, you buy it. Understood\" She'll let him deal with that while she inspects the watches. \"Stolen, or family herilooms?\"\n\nLong John gasps, and reaches for his heart. \"You wound me miss! Hey, name's John. Long John DeSilva.\" He reaches one of those meaty hands across for a shake, grinning at the smaller Teresa. \"Got 'em in trade fer work. The whole lot of it, really. Guy needed some plumbing done and ain't got no cash. Figured could make a little more onna trade fer goods, yeah?\"\n\n\"Teresa Murdoch\" She offers back, taking the hand and shaking it. Much more preferred than being clapped on the shoulder. \"Bartering. Don't hear much of that being done these days. You a plumber or just a handyman of sorts?\" Watches put to the keep pile, the music player examined next, tested to see if actually works or not. \"Fifty, plus the gold\" Her offer to him, once again, not looking him in the eyes. Just sticking to looking at the items and the glass counter they're on.\n\nLong John laughs aloud, and exclaims, \"I like ta lay some pipe. Hey!\" He grins at that, reaching across to clap Teresa on the shoulder again, and then reaches down to grab up that hammer and heft it in his right hand. His left swipes up the teeth, and he ducks momentarily, trying to get between Teresa's eyes and the merchandise. \"Hey now. I know yer all mesmerized by my belt buckle an' all, but I'm up here.\" He juts out his crotch momentarily anyway, before chortling and swaggering his way towards the nearest steel object. Soon he's hammering teeth into dust and fragments of bons as if it were the most natural thing in the world, commenting, \"Guess that depends on how ya value the gold, now don't it? I gotta come outta this ahead.\"\n\n\"Then you can clean up your mess there while I go in the back for a few minutes and confer with my specialist. Try not to stare at my ass and I'll not stare at your belt buckle\" The specialist being, one of her parents. And the belt buckle being actually his mouth, that she was looking at. The watches are taken with her, leaving John to while away the few minutes in the front and explore the goods. So to speak. \n\nquick enough though, she's back - no other person in tow - everything still in hand. Coming to a rest on the staff side of the counter this time, they're placed on the top and she's naming a reasonable price to John.\n\nLong John is called out? He gives a mock-innocent 'who me?' sort of look as Teresa accuses him of impropriety, and then brazenly stares at her posterior as she leaves him alone. With all of the gold, valuables, and assorted goods. It's a small miracle he's still there when she returns, and all of her valuables are, at first glance, intact. \"Small word of advice,\" the big guy asserts as Teresa returns, \"If ya don't want nobody plunderin' yer booty?\" He smirks, Best not leavin' it unattended. Never know who might come lookin' fer plunder.\" The teeth fragments are gone, though he still has a hand on that hammer as he agrees. \"Sure, write me up. I got me a powerful need fer a drink. Say, you get off soon? I'm buyin'!\"\n\n\"Who said it was unattended. Ever occur to you that we have this place wired to hell and back, and that someone's not watching, ready to run out and burn your ass to the ground, if you thought to dip your fingers into the till or the counter?\" Teresa points out, palm out for the hammer, other starting to gather what she needs to write up the sale. \"You don't strike me as the kind who's in dire want of a visit to the burn ward\" \n\nIf, and when the hammer is passed back, she gets to the business of writing, a shake of her head at the drink offer. \"I'm a piss poor drunk. You wouldn't like me hammered. Why don't you spend it on another girl who might be interested?\"\n\nLong John passes that hammer back, holding on to it a moment too long. \"Well, Hell,\" he asserts. \"You get all weepy an' emotional, I comfort you, keep passin' you them beers, you wake up somewhere unfamiliar hurtin' in all the right places, an' a good time is had by all!\" He smirks at that, smoothing out his vest as if it would do any good, and he passes along an American passport that serves as valid enough identification but marks him as Harold Johnson.\n\n\"I don't get weepy. But I am still, a very piss poor drunk and it would be you hurting in all the wrong and unusual places. Just… skip the hitting on me, and take the money\" Passport is taken, this too recorded, evidence of who to go after should indeed, things come up stolen. Especially the watches. \"You been here long and planning on sticking around, or just passing through?\"\n\nLong John leans back at that, laughing. \"Well now I ain't inta that little lady, but if I get too drunk I may jus' keep it in mind!\" He smirks, and swipes up the passport and the cash, rolling it up to stash in his pocket. \"All depends onna work, I imagine. Had me a string'a jobs out this way, but a whole lotta people are uptight 'bout lendin' room on their couches to an honest businessman such as myself. Say, y'all lookin' ta hire a guy? Could find a bike ta put in this showroom?\"\n\n\"If you're good at fixing stuff, we might be able to hire you. More up to the owners than me. You can come back in a few days and ask. If you're keen on that sort of thing\" Teresa offers, signing off on the sheet, turning it so that John can sign off on it too.\n\nLong John perks up at that, \"Well hell yeah!\" he declares, scrawling something that might be his John Hancock and might just be 'John Hancock.' It's hard to tell at that angle. His meaty hand reaches up to wipe across his brow, and Long John takes a moment to straighten his vest, wipe his hands on his britches, and otherwise 'clean up' his appearance. \"I can fix damn near anythin'! Got some holes in drywall, plumbing, couple'a teevees need work?\" He may or may not be able to actually accomplish any of these feats. The big guy leans across the counter, confiding, \"I mean, I ain't got no resumes printed, but we don't need that sort'a thing, do we?\"\n\n\"Not really. Are we also here legally, or would this need to be under the table?\" Still, through this all, eyes never quite meet the eyes and stop just south of the nose. The slip is taken back, pen stowed and the papers separated. Origional for him, copy for her. Transaction, is now complete. \"We have some TV's, good ones, that could use a little looking at, so we know whether to scrap them or try to sell them if they can be repaired.\"\n\nLong John shakes his head, waggling the passport between them. \"That there's a passport, ain't it? Well, gimme a sec.\" He takes a deep breath, straightens a touch, rises to his tippy-toes, and as his eyes rise a hand plunges to fish about in a pants pocket. Apparently this is a portal to Narnia, as his arm stretches deeper into said pocket than ought to be possible, his mouth forms a little 'o', and presently Long John jerks free a second passport. This one is of British origin. \"I'm a damn British citizen! Right bloody wanker, if I want ta be! Hey, but listen.\" He reaches across that counter -yet again-, tucking a finger under Teresa's chin to lift her head, if not her gaze. \"I'm a sensitive sort, ya understand? If ya keep starin' at my crotch I may jus' have ta blush. Maybe get ya fer sexual harassment or some such.\"\n\nSlap.\n\nWith his attempt to lift her chin, Teresa's hand is coming out, making contact with the side of Long Johns face. Leaving not just a red mark, but as well as what could, really truly be a… burn? first, bordering on second degree. \"Do not do that\" The hand that slapped him clutched into a fist, the smell of smoke sharp in the air around her, trying hard to not just let loose, nearly shaking with the effort. The rims of her iris's having taken a slight shift from the darker blue to a near orange color. \"Take your money and leave. Do you understand? Get the fuck out of my store, and if we ever run into each other again, I really suggest that you not try to touch me again\"\n\n\"SHIT!\" Long John's hand rises to his cheek, and then pulls off his cheek, as his jaw works and a look of surprise borders into pain. \"What the fuck?\" he eloquently asks, apparently not noticing her shifting eye follow. \"Who the fuck do you think you are?\" he asks, a heavy fist hitting the glass countertop. \"All I do is try an' get you ta meet my damn eyes, an' yer pullin' this shit? Fucking crazy bitch!\" He looms up over the counter, shouting, \"Look at me! Jus' fer once, Goddamn it.\" He whuffs out some breath then, shaking his head and working his jaw, before turning to stomp out of the store. The door has barely swung shut before it opens again, and Long John's head pokes in. \"So ah, you'll call me 'bout that work, right?\" He looks incongruously hopeful.\n\nThere's no answer from Teresa, who's heading to the back quick as can be even as a man bearing some familial resemblance to her is coming through, with a shotgun in hand and making for the front of the store. Someone got caught on the security camera's it seems.\n\nThat's all the prompting Long John needs. With the sight of the gun, eyes widen and his head disappears from the shop, and the overgrown engine on the bike marks his disappearance from Teresa's life. For now."

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