calling_logs | I don't want somebody to love me... [open]

Who: Thomas and YOU!
What: a simple meal as Thomas and Margaery get used to one another
When: Post-exploration trip
Where:Carmichael's Deli, City of Tomorrow
Notes & Warnings: None so far! It's just song lyrics.

What's Thomas doing in the City of Tomorrow?

Looking over possible storefronts to purchase for what he's hoping will become Coiffure Cup's second location. That's why he's his laptop and a few printed out listings that he's checking off, circling, or X'ing out as he does his research on the various locations using some of the demographic information he was able to find.

Because the thing of it is, he really likes this place. Like... really likes it. Especially since he can come here without being unavailable to his brother much. But he doesn't have to deal with his sister's bullshit, or the small amount of bullshit that he actually minds from Harry, and hey, he might even be able to find an utterly out of this world Christmas present for the cranky beansprout.

But the thing of it is, if he's going to spend a decent amount of time here, he needs a local cashflow source and a local location to get his fix. Which means... a salon. And given how well his salon fusion has worked back in Chicago, he sees no problem with making a franchise of it.

Of course, all of the things around him make sense for someone working on this goal except, perhaps, for the black and white california king who's coiled up around his shoulders. Her name happens to be Margaery, you see, and she's something of a souvenir from his time on 'Demon' Island. For the moment, she's resting and soaking in his warmth happily enough, but there may be a few whispers in his ear as she notices a tiny detail or otherwise passes judgement on the various locations that he's looking through.

All in all, a rather relaxing afternoon, all things considered. But do feel free to interrupt...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Feel free to interrupt'? Really Narration, you should know better. And in one of Loki's favourite places, too. Though he's not going to interrupt right away, aside from a friendly wave to the snake; for now, he's going to finish his BLT (Sam Vimes style, thank-you-very-much), and enjoy the view.

See how long he can resist commenting on the real estate. It's an exercise in self-control.

Roughly ten seconds before Loki would crack (did he time it? is it just narrative causality?), Thomas, not looking up, shifts his papers to look over another sheet and says:

"I start charging by the minute in ten, nine, eight..."

To be fair, there's a decent number of people who'd pay.

"You're not that pretty," Loki scoffs. Pauses a moment, before admitting: "Almost that pretty. But 'almost' only counts for horseshoes, hand grenades, and AOE spells."

Narrative causality is certainly a part of it, at the very least, and Loki would say as much as asked. He likes narrative causality.

"More than that pretty," he says without ego, and he's not exactly wrong. "And can I help you with anything or are you just visiting booths to play 'Hot or Not'?"

"Some of Column A, some of Column B? Actually I was admiring your friend," he nods to the snake.

Margaery looked over at Thomas before coiling once around Thomas's neck and lifting her head to look back at Loki. The snake looked... unimpressed.

"Can I help you?"

"Doubtful, but you never know. Unless you're the one writing the story," he adds. "But that's not you, and that's not me; not in any grand, over-arching sense, anyway."

"You never know," was all she said to that before resting back on Thomas's shoulder. He glances at her like 'what is that melodramatic nonsense, missy?' before turning back to Loki.

"She's a very pretty snake. Not terribly surprising."

Oh, leave off; let her be as melodramatic as she likes with the God of Stories. He likes it.

Right now, anyway. Not that the venue is terrible suited to melodrama, but snakes are.

"She is," Loki agrees, sipping the chocolate malt that appeared near his elbow.

Thomas considers how he wants to handle the rest of this encounter before-

"Was there anything else you wanted to know? I mean... if you've got some input on where you think a hair place ought to go, fire away, but otherwise, I've got a lot to parse through here."

"Well since you ask..." You don't mind if Loki helps himself to the seat across from you, do you? Long fingers with (gnawed on) black lacquered nails make a 'gimme' motion toward the printouts.

"Who and/or what is your target audience?" he asks.

...he'd be more worried about it if they weren't printouts from the local library around here. He's got the data saved on his laptop, after all. He hands them over easily enough.

"The kind of people who'd be interested in a cut and some coffee. In other words, just about anyone."

He wobbles his hand.

"I do tend towards being a little more high end, to be fair. But not unreasonable."

"Hmm. Not this one then," he says, striking off one of the listings. (Where did that pen come from? Surely he didn't have it a moment ago.) "Traffic volume? Walk-ins too, or by appointment only?"

He crosses off a few more as he goes through them; none of them are narratively appropriate, and he should know.

"I'd rather turn away business than miss it," he answers easily enough as he watches Loki go through the stack. "And walk-ins are fine. Part of the coffee bar bonus is having people watching work get done while they drink and deciding they'd like to get something done too."

He tilts his head thoughtfully.

"So, what're you Xing things off for, by the way?"

"Ehhh... A lot of things," he says. "I like to watch the city from above."

"Care to share some of these things?" he prods a little. Because he'd rather not have to go through that if there are Xs for dumb reasons.

Loki eyes him for a moment, before shrugging:

"This one, for instance, has much lower traffic than you'd expect for its location." He taps one of the Xs. "And this is less than a block away from a day-spa run by aliens."

"Yeah, but is it any good?" is the issue, "the day-spa. Are they good at what they do? Because unless they do hair, it might not be a bad idea to pick up some of their traffic..."

"They're popular. Haven't been myself," he admits. "They do hair though. Feathers too."

"Hmm."

He'd need to diversify.

"All right, and that one?"

He pointing to the next X mark.

"Smack between a nail salon and a Greek restaurant. This one though--" He taps one of the listings. "I get a good vibe from this one, if you get my drift."

"Well, who am I to neglect the vibe of..." he tilts his head. "Actual Loki?"

"Genuine article, in the flesh," he affirms. "What gave me away? Was it the horns? The manly good looks? The aura of indefinable mystique?"

"I'm not blind, no," he says with a quick snort, before shrugging a little. The snake around his shoulders looks up and speaks.

"You smell good."

Loki arches an eyebrow at the cute little snake.

"Do I?"

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