19965/Is Earth a Fashionable Place

Is Earth a Fashionable Place
Date of Scene:	29 January 2025
Location:	Lost Pond Mall
Synopsis:	Drake is working his humdrum job in the mall when a very curious girl wanders in. He tries to sell her a shirt, but it doesn't mean space-travel regulation!
Cast of Characters:	Drake Riley, Noa

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Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley couldn't complain. Really, he couldn't. He'd gone from a wandering vagabond with a hair-brained idea, a runaway teenager, to living in a mansion rent-free and surrounded by other weirdos like himself. He's even enrolled in college! Now that's something he never would've thought were in the cards. For all intents and purposes, life is good. Life is /unreasonably/ good. Far better than he deserves.

So when he finds himself bored at his unrelentingly pedestrian job? He counts his blessings. That helps him focus past the doldrumic tedium that is checking out customers with their probably-overpriced clothes. Lost Pond Mall was hiring for a clothing store, he needed an income, and the manager thought he has a conventionally inoffensive look.

He isn't sure whether or not to take that last part as a compliment.

Positioned at his station, Drake leans forward with elbows and forearms resting upon the counter. He isn't aware of the thousand-yard-stare he's giving the far wall, but his shift manager is.

"Wake up," she says smartly in passing.

It's enough to make Drake perk, embarrassed, with a quick, "Yep!"

Noa has posed:
Noa has work to do. She has a line on a supply of chickens. But now she needs to give suggestions on how chickens are to be prepared. So she comes to a mall. It is a major source of end retail commerce after all. Trying to find where foods are prepared, shewanders into this store in the mall.

Dressed as she is in her tight, hypertech bodysuit with light protective armor mounted on the shoulders.

"Maybe the food department is here."

Drake Riley has posed:
Naturally, Noa is the recipient of several lingering looks and perplexed stares, and even a few doubletakes for good measure! A child starts to point at her in confusion, only for his mother to quickly tug him away to the safety of another aisle.

Drake first notices the change in the expressions of clientele. Brow knit, he leans over the counter to peer across the way. It isn't difficult spotting the source. Brows raise. "Subtle."

Slipping around the counter, Drake approaches the short female with a crooked smile and raised hand. "Heeyy," he greets, his tone friendly, but apprehensive. "Don't get me wrong, what'cha got going on is, uh.." He pauses, deliberately tilting his head to give her a theatric once-over before finding her eyes. "..definitely an image, but were ya looking for something more casual?"

Noa has posed:
Noa is approached, and she raises her hand to greet Drake in return. "Hello. I am looking for something in the form of food. Prepared chicken products. Casual or formal are fine. I need suggested offerings, so whatever is most popular is good."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley's expression slowly dims from cautious perkiness to abundant confusion. Several seconds hang in the air as those vibrant emerald eyes study her in disbelief - then flick down at her outfit, and back up to her face. The space suit feels like it's making a little more sense.

"A... chicken," he repeats, with downward inflection. "A formal chicken. Like a, like a chicken with a tophat?"

"I.. uh.." Drake's hand lifts, scratching against the side of his head. "..I guess a fancy chicken /would/ make a Hell of a stir. But, and baby, I mean this with all my heart: /*what*/?"

Noa has posed:
Noa smiles, bounces on her heels, and resumes. She is perkey even if he is confused. "This establishment," she points around. "The um. The Mall. Is a mall of commerce? And it has many food establishments in it. A court of trade. Are you affiliated with the court of trade?"

Drake Riley has posed:
"It, uh," Drake pauses, deciding to let her finish her thought. And though it comes out a bit disjointed, he's pretty sure he can piece the conceptual jigsaw together to paint a clearer picture. Well, for the most part, at least.

"Yyyyes. It's a mall of commerce." He feels weird saying that. It's reflected in the slight scrunching of his eyes. "I think you mean the food /court/. It's like a... indoor courtyard, but instead of plants, it has little restaurants." His hands lift to shoulder height. "But this is a clothes store. You come in here to get clothes that look less like.. well, /this/," he says, gesturing towards her suit, "and more like /this/," and he turns to pluck a blouse from a nearby rack. A simple, tasteful, if slightly ruffled cream-colored and sleeveless garment. Not exactly winter-friendly.

Noa has posed:
Noa folds her arms, and taps her chin a moment. "I see, I See. So the Food Court is a sub-faction of the greater commercial alliance. I understand. It is probably a powerful cartel." She purses her lips and nods. "So that garment. Can it protect in temperatures down to 4 Kelvin and deep space pressure levels?"

Drake Riley has posed:
"Um. Yep. We just don't talk about that out loud. The pit bosses get testy," Drake advises, affecting a conspiratorial tone and eyeshift.

Withdrawing the blouse, Drake tilts his head to look it over. Lifting its tag to inspect, he says, "Nnnooo, I don't think so." Refocusing on Noa, he suddenly holds the blouse closer to her. "But it complements your eyes really nicely. So win some, lose some?"

Noa has posed:
Noa looks down at herself when he puts the clothing over her. "Do you think so? The problem is if this cloth isn't properly treated and woven, I'd get hurt thefirst time I faced adverse conditions. What would you recommend for traders and travelers, merchant?"

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley withdraws the blouse to give it another look, as if reappraising it. "For traders and travelers?," he repeats, completely uncertain how to approach the conundrum. After all, it sounds like what she needs is fashion advice from Daft Punk. Not exactly anything this outlet would carry. But at this point, he's having a little fun with the /clearly/ foreign girl.

And by foreign, we mean extra-terrestrial. But it'd be rude to outright say that, now wouldn't it?

"Traders gotta look good," Drake says with finality. "That means dressing nice. Catching eyes." He quickly looks back to her. "Not in the /literal/ sense, just- you get what I mean."

Stepping aside, he begins perusing the nearby rack. "Problem is, winter's not reeaaally my forte. I'm all about the summer. Warm season, y'know? But..." He pauses to look at her again. This time, he's earnestly taking her in and studying her features, his gaze lingering on her a few extra seconds. "Girl like you, with pretty eyes like that? We'd wanna find something that emphasizes it."

Noa has posed:
Noa does already catch eyes, though! She smiles, tilting her head, resting her hands back on her hips. "Well thank you, merchant. You are very kind, and very helpful. "I wear this because it's cheap and keeps me safe. You can imagine if I'm far from home, that's very important."

Drake Riley has posed:
"Oh, for sure, for sure," nods Drake as he looks back to the clothing selections. "Guy like me? I get it. Runs the same whether you're coming from California or Mars. Gotta be cheap, gotta be safe, gotta be tough. But let's juuust... tryyyy... to find something a little more... flattering..."

As he drawls the words, he rotates some tops out of the way. It doesn't help that he's in the unseasonal section still. Short sleeves, flimsy material, bright colors. Alas.

He pauses to look back to her suddenly, lips twisted in thought. "Mm'nuh-uh." And he begins moving further into the store at a sidelong gait, one arm raised to beckon her along. "C'mon, oddball. Let's find something a little warmer for ya. Where /are/ you from, anyway? Any particular colors you like?"

Noa has posed:
Noa is nodding along but pauses when he says Mars. Her head tilts. "Wouldn't Mars be a very long trip for you?" she laughs. "I dind't think you would be up for that."

"You probably haven't heard of where I am from, merchant."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley pauses and gives the girl a patient, bemused smile before shaking his head and continuing trying to lure her along deeper into the store. He comes upon the corner of some shelving and brings his hand to rest against its edge as he waits. "Believe it or not! Nope. Not from Mars. But if you're offerin' to show me sometime...," he trails, tone playfully teasing. "But for now, I'm just curious. Besides, I might have heard about more places than ya think."

Tilting his head slightly to glance over his shoulder at a few other racks, he adds, "And I thiiink cream's gonna be a good color on you."

Noa has posed:
Noa starts to answer, but then there's a sound from her suit. It's someone talking in a very flat monotone voice, but in a very strange language. She puts her hand on that spot. "I apologize merchant, but my assistant says something urgent is going on. And I have to handle this immediately. I will be back."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley looks back to the mysterious gal with a start when her suit starts speaking tongues. Stunned, he just nods to her at first. But when he manages to find his words again, it's with a simple, "Um.. 'kay." And then, as she's probably already out of earshot, he calls, "It's- Drake! By the way!"

A moment of silence for the poor lad's dignity.

His shift manager wanders past behind him. "Didn't buy anything /or/ get a number." And she disappears amidst the rows of clothes, tsking, leaving Drake to just stare flat-faced.