6883/Exchanging Goods For Services

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Exchanging Goods For Services
Date of Scene: 11 July 2021
Location: Grossman's Pawn and Loan
Synopsis: No description
Cast of Characters: Eric Brooks, Dez




Eric Brooks has posed:
At a glance, Grossman's Pawn and Loan isn't special. Quite the opposite. It's a brick-front building with large windows that are badly in need of cleaning. The sidewalk outside is spotted, stained, and littered with cigarette butts. The door has two windows, the lower of which has been broken and covered over with a square of plywood.

The inside doesn't look much better. Grossman's is known for "specializing" in sporting goods. Row upon dilapidated row of shelves hold hockey sticks, football helmets, soccer cleats, and basketballs, most of which have seen better days. There are smaller areas for things like televisions and appliances, but they're nothing to write home about. The flatscreens are aging and there's a not inconsiderable number of CRT units in the mix, along with some battered blenders, mishandled microwaves and other standard pawn shop fare.

At the counter, a smallish man with a largish paunch and wire-frame glasses is eating powdered donuts while a parakeet hops around and pecks up the crumbs. Abe Grossman, proprietor. His white shirt and black tie are like a road map of what he's eaten today, with sugary white specks and some spots that look awfully mustardy. He's best known for throwing out anyone who's actually trying to buy or sell sporting goods.

The bell above the door makes a sad tinkling sound when Blade pushes his way in. As always, he's wearing his armored vest, trench coat, and sunglasses, all while carrying an army-green duffle bag. The whole look is a little too tacticool, even for New York, yet he doesn't look the least bit self-conscious as he heads toward the register. Incongruously, he also has a grocery bag dangling from a leather-gloved hand.

Dez has posed:
Dez has been lurking in the back corner of the shop, feigning interest in a small jewelry box. She has flipped the box open, watching as the slightly lopsided ballerina twirls in time with a plinking rendition of Over The Rainbow. The girl is dressed in her typical assortment of Hot Topic couture -- black leggings, a red-and-black plaid skirt, and a black vest -- and dark hair has been drawn atop her head in a messy knot.

Bronze eyes flicker upward as the door opens, and a pierced eyebrow is arching toward her hairline as she watches the newcomer. A few moments tick by, the music box in her hands keeping time, before the girl is beginning to weave her way toward the counter. Grossman lost her interest almost immediately, but Blade? There's something unusual about the man. Something more interesting than the music box that still lingers in one hand as she approaches the counter. The metallic music heralds her arrival, and she isn't even hesitating as she situates herself beside Blade, off to his left.

"You do know it's summer, right?" There's a none-too-subtle look toward the man's coat. There's no missing the coat.

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Yep." Blade's initial reply is succinct, but not unkind. Which, coincidentally, is a description that sums up everything about him.

Despite how heavily clad he is, nothing about the temperature seems to be bothersome. But first things first. "Abe," he greets the man behind the counter. "And Parabellum," he says, speaking directly to the parakeet. Cute. The grocery bag is handed over, then the duffle plops down beside it.

Grossman has already unwrapped the plastic bag from around Blade's gift. "You bring me crumb cake and I'm eating donuts? You should've warned me. And Entenmann's? Favors, he must want."

This doesn't seem to be an uncommon exchange. A wisp of a smile tugs at Blade's lips, but it's gone almost before it arrives. He unzips his olive-drab rucksack and glances back over at the girl next to him. "What, you want a cookie? Middle school let out early today?"

Despite his words, the jibe carries no weight or heat. He speaks to her the same way an uncle or an older brother would. If she wasn't supposed to be here, Abe would've kicked her out by now. Few people have as scathing a tongue as an overweight Jewish man in his late fifties, and even fewer require someone like Blade to manage their clientele. If anything, the vampire hunter's challenge is as close as he gets to being friendly.