Oh god the humidity. The morning weather isn't necessarily hot, but it's like walking through a lukewarm bath. The skies want more than anything to pour down water upon the town, but they are holding off still., content to remain an overcast cloudy dark damp festival of ick. Except in the bookstore. The air conditioning is cranked to high heaven today, despite the lack of actual heat outside right now. But it keeps the air less moisture-laden, even though the trade off is that it's like a freaking ice box in the shop. The power company probably loves this guy. And there is Kip. oblivious to the chill of the air because he has on one of those nerdy v-neck sweaters over a contrasting color of t-shirt and he's sipping a steamy mug of coffee as he sits behind the counter, reading a paperback book that is very clearly a cheesy smut-filled romance novel.
Jingle-jangle: is there a bell at the front door to Homepage Books? Even if there isn't, Franklyn's entrance in heralded by the cacophonic rustling of too-many bracelets twinkling together, as she throws a lit butt back out from whence she came, and turns into the shop so she can peer through the puff of cigarette smoke that accompanies her. Girl's gonna end up with a fine, one of these days.
Frank's dressed for fending off threatening-clouds and humidity: loose palazzo pants in black'n'white stripes, and white button-up shirt of gauzy linen that probably could do with being less transparent. Sheesh. Hair up in a messy topknot and sunglasses on her face, she's got this 'frumpy-chic boho hipster' thing down to a T, as she flounces towards the counter: bogged down by her purse, and two huge cloth book-bags. Lotta baggage, this one.
"Oh my -Goooood-." Franklyn sighs with a huff, throwing her head back as Kip is sashayed up to. "This place is like fucking -heaven-. Did you kill me? Have I died? Can you speak to ghosts?"
Thunk. A bag of books is hauled up and unceremoniously dumped onto the counter. Then Franky notices the coffee Kip's drinking -- eyebrows raising with oddly placed hopefulness.
Of course Franklyn is wearing something half transparent. Because when Kip looks up at the bell to do his usual "Welcome to Homepage" greeting, he's met with... well, her shirt and what it attempts to hide. He quickly lifts his eyes up from the vision as if he's afraid of being caught looking even though it was unintentional and pushes his hair back from his face. "Uhm, no. I-- no ghosts. Why, is there one trying to talk to me?" he asks before looking down at the mug she's studying. "Coffee? I mean, do you want some? I made a pot in the back. It's fresh."
Franklyn would just not be having a good day, if she wasn't giving people a reason to stop and stare. To her credit, if she notices Kip's lack of actual subtlety, she makes no big fuss about it. Yet. She just dumps the rest of her book bags and purse on the counter with a quiet 'oof!', then turns to smile at the young dude and lean against the counter all languidly.
Like she's got all the time in the world.
Sunglasses are removed and tucked into her purse, as Franklyn takes a satisfied sigh and shrugs. "I guess they could be, if you had anything worth saying they'd need to comment upon -- oooh, yes please, if you've got one going! I've got like, a wicked hangover..." Tongue is stuck out for a second, then she tap-taps the bag o' books. "You're buying, right? And... Help me out here." Franky leans towards him, squinting at Kip with a smile as she rests her elbows on the counter top.
"I know your face. Be amazing, remind me your name again?"
Kip is a good boy, or tries to be, but he is still a boy with boy parts and boy parts sometimes dictate things to his brain that they probably shouldn't. Like blurting out, in his total absence of a filter, "I like your shirt." Before he gets slightly flushed and flustered. "Uh, Kip. I'm Kip. It's easy to forget. I mean I'm easy to forget. Most people do." Except Enid. "And yes, I have used books. Not as many as new but some. You-- should take better care of them. Books, I mean. And uhm, hang on. Do you uh, do you want anything in it? I have Tylenol, too. I took about a half dozen earlier today. I mean, me too. Hangover, I mean."
Franklyn blinks at Kip's utter lack of social decorum - she was not expecting that, but the girl can 'yes, and' with the best of them; turning to glance down at her shirt, through which the tiny words 'Calvin Klein' stretched around her ribcage could probably be read by anyone squinting close enough. When she's turning her attention back at Kip, she's got a broad, wry smile on her face and a rather sharp look in those green eyes of hers. Feline - that is to say, predatory and totally catty.
Yet Frank doesn't pounce, just shrugs. "Thanks, I slept in it. Kip! Aaah! That's it! Kip." Franklyn's manicured hands reach out towards him, only to bounce back and pat the bags of books before his personal space is breached. "Kip, I want you to know I take amazing care of my books -- the problem is, I now have too many and I need to switch /these/ babies, for some -new- ones, like I was some kind of horribly neglectful adoptee mother in nineteen-fifty-who-gives-a-shit."
Deep breath, then Franky laughs and nods, tilting her head to the side as she watches him. "And? Painkillers would be boss. So. Come on then: spill it, what got you hittin' the bottle? You down in the dumps? Need a shoulder?" A thumb jerks up, gesturing to herself. "I've got two-oo, and even a pack of tissues in my bag if you've gotta sob story you wanna share, instead of plugging the hole with, mmmm, fine literature."
The trashy romance. She has noticed it -- and Franky gives Kip a wink as she bobs her head in it's direction.
The true reason of 'So I went looking for a book and found a dead body, almost puked on my partner's shoes and got rip roaring drunk afterward' is not said. Nope. Kip just reaches a hand up to scratch absently at the base of his neck, his hair flopping a bit with the motion. "Well you just... dumped them out and that's a good way to bend the spin or pages," he murmurs in response, nodding to the pile of books she dumped onto the counter. "And that's a good book." He must mean the one he was reading, the trashy trashy romance novel, that he's set down next to the register. "But coffee and Tylenol coming up." He turns to head into the back room, the door swinging closed only an inch or so after him so it's mostly fully open and can easily be shouted through if anyone does so desire.
What, he doesn't think the Hot Mess hanging out and leaning all over his counter couldn't handle a little truth bomb?! Franklyn watches Kip like a hawk as the super nerd scratches at his neck. Why doesn't she ease up on the staring? It's like she's -super- invested, but why? Her smile broadens, and she turns to look at the two big bags of books that've been unceremoniously dumped on the counter. "...Well, I'm gonna be straight with you, /Kip/ -- these books? Have brought me nothing but dead ends and time-wasting since I threw my list of demands at the last bookseller and parted with my hard earned cash, yeah?"
Franklyn stands up straight and starts rocking back-and-forth on her feet. Today she is dressed in black n' white striped palazzo pants and a ludicrously gauzy linen button-up shirt. Spoiler alert: her bra is peach and silver. The romance novel that Kip was reading is gestured to, and Franky barks out a laugh. "Good? Good is contextual! But from where I'm standing? My spider-senses are telling me that book is good in the same sense that marshmallows are technically food. You starved for some drama, kiddo?"
Then Franky just smiles, watching Kip's retreat to the back room to... Be nice to her and get her stuff. There's a small sigh. It's pretty cheerful.
The last, very very very last, thing that Kip's life needs is drama. He gets plenty of it on a weekly basis ever since Enid decided to start her own weekly soap opera starring a nerdy bookseller named Kip who is clearly not at all based on him because the reality of Kip is so less suave and worldly than the one that print might lead people to expect. Such a disappointment, seeing the man behind the legend in his own nerdy haven. But he does return very quickly from the back room, mug of coffee in one hand and the other hand fisted around a trio of white caplets that he holds out on his opened palm once he arrives. "Books are never a waste of time," he points out, keeping his eyes very very carefully focused on anything /but/ Franky's shirt. "I just had too much to drink last night. No particular reason. What about you? Drinking away the pain of these books?"
Or maybe it's something else sweet but so very bad for you that's setting off Franklyn's spidey senses? Certainly, there's just such a thing, stepping into this bookstore, looking positively... well. You know.
Amanda Green breezes into the bookstore, smiling softly, looking rather ready to take on the day. Just as she does all the time. She's dressed today in the height of preppy fashion - a half sleeve sweater, a pilgrim collar laying over it, a pink circle skirt. Look, she even has cute sheer tights with little hearts on them. "Kip, love?" Green calls as she steps in, not even looking who all is there yet. She spots Franklyn. Franklyn in... pants?! Palazzo pants. But still. "Oh, Franky, darling... who let you in there?" she asks with a smile, as she moves directly towards the other woman. "Kip, have you any coffee?"
"Bullshit." Franklyn's helpful retort to Kip, while she gladly accepts the coffee and the painkillers. Does she check what they are? No! She's trusting! To a fault! And preoccupied with being Right at Kip, "Literate? Poetry? Criticism? Constructive or illuminating thought, which happens to be written down? That's never bullshit. But =books=? Books are just the /medium/, Kippy -- but what we need is the /message/."
Franky takes in a deep breath and resumes leaning on the countertop - dreamily staring off into the mug of coffee, before side-eyeing the young book-nerd. She seems... Unconvinced. Nobody gets drunk for no reason, and when they had a happy one? People usually blab. Seems like she presumes Kip is hidin' something. "Me?... I had a breakthrough - plus, I've got like a stupid number of insta followers now, so I deserve a prize. Oh that -remiiiinds- me; I saw this pic, ballet shoes with a number-six pin from here. That's that Mina Grey chick, eh? You must know her, right? What's she like?"
Smile, beam, stare, smile, oh-so-casually grill: Franklyn keeps her focus on Kip, ready to keep push-push-pushing until, oh! There's Green! Eyes light up, and she waves her over. "I let myself in -- nothing is beyond me! Kip has tonnes of coffee, but here have some of mine..." It's offered over. They can share. Franky's generous, see?!
"The books are important, too. They're the-- the delivery system. You should take care of them. They hold words and even if the words aren't life-changing or some sort of insightful knowledge, they're still important. It's not their fault they were arranged in a way less pleasing to you than others," Kip mumbles nerdishly as he starts gently piling the books up that were dumped so they will be easier to sort by size, then type, then color, then alphabetical or whatever way his OCD takes him next. But he does look up again at Green's arrival and a twitch of a smile tugs at the edges of his mouth, giving him a momentary goofy expression, dimples deepening for a moment. "I just made some. You want some too then?" He doesn't ask Green how she takes her coffee, so maybe he knows. He does finish up the haphazard stacking job so he can turn back to the door, however.
"Oh, Francis, you are an angel," Green says, ever so pleasantly. She steps up beside her friend and fellow brunette, then reaches one hand out to take the coffee, and reaches to slip the other arm low around Franklyn's waist. She leans in to the other woman, who is conveniently leaning down, and then murmurs a few words to her. Kip might note, from his angle, that one need not get so very close just to whisper. Red-painted lips come so very close to brushing ear. /Message/ delivered, by an overly intimate medium, Green stands back up but keeps her arm amicably about her friend.
Green looks back to Kip, when Mina is mentioned. No response? That means it's her turn. She looks back to Franklyn. "Mina is absolutely lovely. Witty and clever, gorgeous, and she's got a... dark humor to her. Plus some anger in there. It's all so very delightful," she tells Franklyn. "Also, Kip is in love with her. As is Mr. Alexander. She's currently dating the latter... the former didn't want her," she says. Then a glance back to Kip. "That about... accurate, Kip, love?"
"Books are just material -things-. They should be preserved, sure, but only as a vessel. It's the /essence/ of what's inside of them that represents their core value, know what I mean? Yes, we could argue over the aesthetics of design or importance of objects as signifiers of status or cultural capital, but -essentially-? That shit is just meaningless. It's the /message/. It all comes back to =meaning=." Franklyn delivers her monologue with unwavering, stubborn resolve that she is very-very right, and her cause is very-very important. Such passion! Such fever! Such hand movements as she gestures to accentuate those words. Is anyone paying attention?
It all melts away into nothingness as Kip turns to continue his busywork -- and ignores her question. Her question about Mina. Oh. Oh no he did not. Before the claws can come out and Ms. Garreau gets all Meaner Girls, Green is swooping on in and saving the day. Why does the other Mortal lass get such a 'tisk!' look of disapproval then, as Franklyn nudges up against her? Could have done with their whisper-whisper-secret-time-whisper, although maybe not.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Sotto voice to Green, then Franky is ooohing and raising her eyebrows, looking to Green and Kip in turn. "Riiiiiight. Wow." A pause. Then a longer pause. It goes on. Franklyn looks -flabbergasted-. It is not exactly polite. She's having a hard time processing this information about, er, everyone involved. "=Wow=. There... This... This is a small town."
Yes, it's all about the books. And words. And knowledge and-- Kip turns for a moment, framed by the doorway he has yet to go through to get the coffee, then goes from gazing upon Franky and her word-spouting to instead turn to Green, his face a bit pale for a moment. "I-- I'm not. No. It's-- I mean she's dating CB. I'm dating Paige. I... I never said I was in love with Mina." Oh but does that /look/ say anything? Well it clearly says he's flustered and surprised and trying to grab words out of the air to put in his mouth before he blurts out who knows what. "Mina is a friend of mine. W--We're good friends. Just because I love my friends does not mean I am in love with Mina. Don't you love your friends? Why does everyone think I'm in love with Mina? Is it because-- is it because everyone knows I slept with her? I mean that was ages ago that everyone found out about that."
"Incredible, isnit?" Green asks, to her friend beside her. She stares at Franklyn for a long moment, then turns her attention back to Kip. She stares at the man, watching him fumble and get nervous. She offers him a warm smile, without any hint of maliciousness. Because she's sweet and loving! "You are allowed to love your friends," Green tells Kip. "I love Franklyn. Doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to snog her. We're just friends," she explains to the man. "That's acceptable." She then turns her head, aside, to smile at Franklyn.
In the beginning, Franklyn looks bored and preoccupied with trying to get back her coffee cup from Green, manicured grabby hands pawing at her. Aw, cute: two hipster girls playing coffee-grab. It's not until Kip starts stammering and spreading forth the deetz that she turns away from Her Royal Majesty, in favour of the jester over there. Oh. People are gonna let this one just ride out? Not Franky.
Franklyn SCOFFS at Kip's explanation - her mouth dropping open in an incredulous faux-shocked grin, rolling her eyes a bit. "Ohmygooood. You are -soo- adorable? So what you fucked your friend -- people fuck their friends all the time, ugh, people fuck their -frenemies- more often than not, you know? Who cares? Why is everyone in this town so =fucking uptight=?!"
Then the laughter comes; mirthful and gentle and such a beautifully expressive and gentle sound for someone who's obviously not all sweetness and light. "Love is so stupid -- but Kippy, you obviously have /something/ going on with that chick. Jesus, this town... There is zero accounting for taste. 'Dating'. HAH. Where are we? Sweet Valley High? Do I need to go out and buy everyone some purity rings and N'Sync records, so they can act like we're fossils from the last century? Absurd."
So. Franky's got a lot of feelings. She leans on Green a bit, hip-checking her and giving an exaggerated siiiiiigh as she drapes an arm around Green's shoulder for support. "I have so much work to do."
Kip does not have a purity ring. Which is a fact that Paige is probably glad about, even though he doesn't say anything. He does have a /ring/ though, but it's just a little thin one on his right hand and is just one of those decorative things rather than something that has a clear meaning. He has a watch, too, but it never seems to be working right. Clearly not because he zaps it with lightning sometimes without meaning to. That'd never happen. "I don't know N'Sync," he admits quietly, maybe mumbling in hopes that just maybe somehow that will draw attention away from talking about Mina and the CLEARLY NOTHING he has going on with her. It's like the harder he tries to convince people that he is not sleeping with Mina, the more they seem to think he is. "See? I-- don't have to uh... snog Mina to be friends with her. And I'm not. I mean not now. I-- I was but... You wanted a pin? Here." He grabs the basket of #6 pins from next to the register and pulls one out at random. They're all different colors and fonts. Not like the more sedate E ones there are to offer.
"Don't you mean Jonas Brothers?" Green asks Frank, lifting a brow. "N*Sync is JT, and he gets down," she adds, with a sweet smile. She continues to stare for a long moment, at Franklyn, her brows up. "Frenemies?" she asks. "Did you and Mr. Alexander finally shag?" she asks, head tilting to the side as she stares at her friend.
And then her eyes go down, to the buttons. "Oh, blimey, don't tell me you're picking numbah six," she says, in her bad Bostonian accent. "He's a proper twat."
Franklyn stares at Kip like he's got a miniature third arm growing out of his right temple or something: freak. "...Did you grow up in Utah? You don't have the accent..." Stare, stare, scrutinise and judge. Poor Kip. Franklyn gives off the air of someone who might just be ready to go in for the kill -- then she see's the #6 button on offer.
"Uuuuugh. That big time small town dick?" Franklyn roooolls her eyes and snorts. "Number six is a fucking -creep-, who's targeting female journalists with messaging that's designed to intimidate them into silence and suppress their basic right for freedom of expression. Obviously he's as weak as his arguments; hiding behind anonymity as he spits out lame ass threats. What a /grade-a limpdick/."
If there's one thing Franky obviously loves? It's freedom to express.
Look at her now, as Franklyn all that heat just evaporates on off her and she regards Green with an expression so cool and calm, it's like an arctic tundra before a blizzard. Ice Princess raises a hand to wave with disinterest, a laissez-faire z-snap if ever there was one. "You think he'd be able to handle this? Nuh-huh honey." Those are sass n' lyrics, not an answer.
But she's reaching for her purse -- pointing at Kip and the bag of books in turn. "I've got an itinerary of what's in there. When I come back later? I'm going to expect a quote -- here, have my card. Text me whenever." Like magic (only not), a card is taken from her purse and tossed in Kip's direction.
Oh. So clearly Kip needs to swap out the button for an E one. He drops it back into the basket and fishes out one from the other one and held out, though he does stare for a moment at Franklyn. "You-- slept with Mina's boyfriend?" Clearly he did not pick up the fact that she said no she did not. Because she just stares at her. "I-- uh, uhm, yeah. Quote on these. I'll... have one. For you." He seems flustered by something for a moment before he looks over at Green, then back to Franklyn. "No. I just-- guess that's music and I don't listen to music. It's... I have an ear thing. I can't listen to loud things. And music seems... loud. Louder than... than quiet."
Green continues to stare at her friend, braving the ice, unaffected by it! She just stares, and stares. And then finally she turns back to Kip, and gives a sigh. "No, she did not sleep with Mr. Alexander," Green says, sounding just a touch disappointed. "But I think she might want to," she decides, with a vague shrug. "I know I would, were he single. But then, same goes for you," she says, to Kip. And if that lie wasn't bought, surely the reminder that she wants to have the man in a romantic fashion should do well enough to kick Kip's mind towards somewhere else.
Green looks back to Franklyn. "See you after my show, yeah?" she asks
"Which one?" Franklyn quips back at Kip - 100% grade-A sass, "It's really difficult to keep track -- but I promise you, I did not fuck my cousin Deacon. She got him to run away crying to the alps all by her lonesome." Oooo girl, Franky tuts and rolls her eyes - hoisting her bag over her shoulder, as she leans in to air-kiss Green on her left /and/ right cheeks. Like she didn't just hear the 'think she might want to'.
Because Franklyn... Apparently keeps very little sacred. "Yes darling, of course -- I've got a big meeting all day, and will be exhausted, but name the time and place and I'll find some pep for my step." But she already has /too much pep/! Manicured talons are wiggled in Kip's direction, as Franky begins flouncing towards the exit, "Lovely seeing you both -- don't do anything I wooo-oouldn't doo!"
So... Straight up murder someone in the middle of the street and eat their entrails? Franky's out, probably off to only metaphorically eviscerate her enemies. If she passes any pastel coloured girls on her way out? They get a wink. Everyone's a friend! Until they are not!
Kip gets a flash of that flustered twitchy nerd back for a moment at Green's words and he almost knocks down the small pile he has made of the books that Franky has left him, his elbow nudging hard against them as he reaches for the card she threw down. "Uh-- you-- uhm, you uhm, you don't mean that," he mumbles in response to something, possibly Green's commentary. "Uh-- that's... that's not what uh, happened." The words are quiet and mumbled, clearly meant as a response to Franky even though she's fairly gone by the time he makes the words push past his lips. Then as if trying a little /too/ hard to change the subject, he blurts out, "Enid wrote that she got her pin so thanks."
"Exhausted? Or, poor love! Perhaps Chianti out by the creek? I'll rub your shoulders?" Green offers. "Bit parky for a swim," she squips, and smiles. Then she lifts her hand and wiggles her fingers. Then her attention shifts back to Kip. "I'm off. Just stopping by for my Friday morning coffee," she says. Which she still has. Frank's coffee. "You're very welcome," she adds. Then a wiggle of fingers to Kip and she turns to go, following behind Frank.
Angelica walks into the bookstore as she runs her fingers through her rainbow tresses. A soft smile and wave is given to those who are present before she begins to wander through the stacks, looking over the books and occasionally grabbing one to bring into her arm to carry.
|
