Log:Clueless and Heartless

Clueless and Heartless
#robbed #thief #findiphone
Participants Thief!! and Lala-lovely	20 September 2017 Lala gets her phone back. Yelling is involved!
Location Twixt Liquor
Cian's sitting behind the counter with his phone tap typing at someone. Texting and generally being a Millenial. He doesn't care about the person who's buying porn and some beer. Ringing up the old fucker he charges him an extra quarter for having bad breath and then waves the bastard out without so much as a smile. Otherwise it's a pretty usual day for when Cian's running the register. It's a regular gig though, keeps him normal. Ring-ring* The bell hung on the door rings -- the old fucker is leaving but someone is coming in as well. However it's not someone you'd usually find here -- oh, you know the type. Those who live paycheck to paycheck. Those whose best days are behind them. Those who self-medicate with liquor and porn. Can you self-medicate with porn? Shut up, sure you can. Anyway, the person who enters doesn't fit that demographic. "CIAN ALEXANDER! I WANT MY PHONE BACK!" It's Lala. And she's pissed. It's been a few days now and the blonde Garreau is still salty. Her expression is set to scowl and she stands just inside the establishment with her hands on her hips -- she's wearing skinny jeans, a white tee, a fuzzy, fluffy coat and heels. The girl points at the villain who absconded with her LIFE. Cian is looking at his phone at the grand entrance of the Garreau. When he looks up, blank blues find the fiesty blonde as she stalks up to the counter with her salty mood. The shouting. Yeah the shouting is what gets him to flinch, reaching up almost instinctively to try and muffle the shrieking sound. He is quiet at first, trying to process the pointing and the shouting into a cohesive thought. One would expect guilt or shock, perhaps the immediate search for an exit. Instead he just blinks. Once. Twice. "What are you talking about?" The Garreau beelines for the counter -- click-click-click goes her shoes and her hips swing from side to side to siiiiide. "Don't play coy with me," she says when she arrives at her destination, gripping the edge and leaning forward to squint at him. Hard. "Sunday. When we met at Desrochers. Nice game, being all handsy and distracting while you lifted my phone. I don't give a fuck about the other stuff but I want. my. fucking. phone. back." To say that she is unhappy is a tremendous understatement. There is color high in her cheeks. Her blue eyes are flashing. She has no chill, none at all! "I've talked to Count, I've talked to your cousin. Neither one of them were at all surprised to hear your name involved with this shit so GIVE ME MY PHONE!" Foot stomp! STOMP! Cian blinks slowly and then smirks, "First of all, it's Cian McCarthy," he corrects in that ever soft whisper voice that teases on the eardrums. The zero chill lady with her face all read and her eyes flashing bright - normally a warning to prey - this time ignored. His smile fades at least, especially when Count and CB are brought up and he squints a little. "CB doesn't know shit, and Count will say anything to a pretty face," he grumps a bit. However, it's entirely possible that she's right and he has her phone. So maybe just maybe he'll casually reach over to the handy remote that lowers the security gate half way and the other button that clicks the open sign off. Exhaling a soft sigh, he bends down behind the counter and comes up with a satchel, that canvas bag he's always running around with in various points of fullness. Today it's rather full. Setting the thing down he pulls the flap back and asks, "Is your phone in here?" While there are several phones, hers is not among these. He said that CB was his cousin; she assumed his last name was 'Alexander'. "Whatever!" she says when he corrects her, Lala being far too irritated to worry about the particulars of his surname. "I'm sure the cops will get your name right when they book you." She shrugs the strap of her bag off her shoulder -- just one of them though, just so that she can grab something out of her large purse. It's bright blue and leather -- as with all her things, it is clearly expensive. For a moment, Cian can glimpse a whole bunch of THINGS tossed in there. Ooooooh, so tempting. How those fingers of his must instinctively twitch! But she doesn't pay attention; she's busy pulling out a laptop. Opening it up on the counter, she logs into a site and is careful to keep the screen angled away from Stealy McStealFas! "No, none of those shitty-ass phones are mine," she harumphs as she fires up the Find iPhone app. "There." Turning the MacBook Pro around so he can see it now, she points to the blue dot on the map. "You better not have fuckin' sold it to someone or gave it to some skank, I swear to god..." After all, she has shit on that thing. It is her life after all. Watching her break out the mention of cops, the man just looks at her, "Cops are CB's territory, I just make friends." he swears with his hands in the air. Look lady you're being hella mean to a kid with conditions! Lookit that face. The twitchy, palsy hands. There's that throb of want, the twitch to go seeking out this new bag and or her person for new things. Instead he settles up on his phone and taps on it a few times before closing the screen. Staring at her quietly he blinks, "Lala, first of all why didn't you just do the app to begin with," then he blinks and sighs a little. That whisper quiet nature of the man seemingly soothing for a moment as he closes up his satchel and throws it over his shoulder. "C'mon. I'll explain along the way, okay?" he raises the security gate, leaves the open sign off and pushes around to the front of the counter. There's that sympathetic look to him, always so easy to forgive that angelic face really! Lookit it. The lights flash on the matte black Tesla outside. Weird that the shadow would prefer a quiet car huh? He took her stuff. And not just any stuff -- her /phone/. That makes it very unlikely that angelic expressions or palsy conditions are going to elicit any sympathy from her. "They're about to be your territory too if I don't get my phone back rapid-quick," she snaps back. Yes, Lala /can/ be hella mean if you happen to find the few things that set her off. She closes the laptop and tosses it back into her purse, zipping that shit /closed/ because she's not going risk losing more stuff around Cian. "I realized pretty quickly that you took my phone since I had been texting right before you showed up and then went to text someone right after you left. I didn't use the app to begin with because I wanted to confront you. I wanted to look you in the /eyes/." And that's what she does! Right now! The mortal stares at him, her blue eyes still flashing anger-anger-anger! I mean, come on. She's a millennial. You can't take her phone and expect her to just be cool with that! The Garreau follows him out of the liquor store, into the parking lot and shakes her head when he chirp-chirps the Tesla. "No, we're taking my car," she tells him. The blonde heads over to the Lotus that is currently parked across two parking spots. "Get in." Cian sighs a little, like he's been beaten, there's no way around it apparently. "We'll get your phone back," he promises quietly without really trying to set her off further. As they go outside, he is shrugging, "Look me in the eyes, why?" he asks curiously peering back at her with those bright blues. Curious, concerned. She beeps her own car and he looks over and rolls his eyes, of course she took up two damn spots. Shaking his head he locks the Tesla back up and moves to slink into the passenger seat of the Lotus. Thankfully he's foldy, seeing as the car is tiny. Once inside he's holding out his hands and showing the shake. "I was in some trials for first generation ADD meds. They fucked up my nervous system. Then I went and got into a car accident that gave me this PTSD shit," he rolls his eyes like even he doesn't believe it, "Now the doc says I've got this dissociative kleptomania thing, and of course it can't be medicated, so I dunno. I guess I'm a terrible person or some shit." He's trying not to let his hands cramp up but they do anyways, getting knotted around each other - in another person it would signal nervousness. "I'm sorry, we'll get your phone back, I didn't even know I'd taken it, I just...conditions and shit - if you remind me, anytime we hang out, I'll check my pockets for your stuff okay? I mean if you want to hang out again." All said so quiet in the intimacy of her car. She throws the car into gear and they are /off/. Like, omg. Lala drives fast (it's hard not to in a Lotus) and terribly. Maybe it's because she's wearing heels. Maybe it's because she's mad. Maybe it's because she's Lala and simply a horrible driver. He starts to explain the hows and whys of his situation and she ... Turns on music. OMG LALA. YOU ARE SO RUDE. It's Taylor Swift's new single -- 'Look What You Made Me Do' -- and it overwhelms as they drive along. She yanks the wheel as she takes a blind turn and BLOWS by a cop; almost immediately, there are blue and red lights in her rear-view mirror. "Oh god dammit," she huffs before pulling over. The moment the officer steps up to her window though, her whole demeanor shifts and where she was angry dialed up to 11, she is now pure charm. "License and registration, miss," he says.       "Oh my goodness, I am /so/ sorry! I know I was going a little bit fast, officer. I know there is no excuse but.." And before you know it? She's being sent on her way with a warning and phone number. A phone number? Hey, he was cute. "Where am I going?" she asks Cian as she gets up to speed again, her mood back to grumpy. Cian just kind of stares at the whole interaction. Don't mind him, he's not good with cops, so he just doesn't get caught by them. This is uncomfortably close to a place he refuses to be. When it's all done, he just sort of stares at her in silence for a long time. Finally he reaches over to punch in an address into the GPS. No more words for her. 'In 500 feet, turn right on Maple Avenue...' Lala silently stews as she follows the directions the GPS spits out, the words practically lost within the the lyrics sung by Tay-Tay, Katy Perry, Kayne and others. The playlist she's put together seems to all be artists who are beefing with each other which seems to be an appropriate -- although completely coincidental -- theme for her mood at the moment. The Garreau takes several turns, some of them sharp that really tests the quality of her car's seat belts. Eventually, though, the faintly computerized female voice states: 'You have arroved at your destination.' Franky's cousin comes to a stop outside of an apartment. Or condo thing. Or whatever it is. She leans forward against the steering wheel to peer out the windshield at the building. "This it?" she asks before turning off the car, everything going suddenly silent as she looks at Cian. Cian is trying not to notice the beefing artists, in fact when it gets to be too much, he'll reach out and turn the stereo down like a rude fucker. When she innevitably turns it back up, he puts in ear plugs until they're there. Even afterwards, leaving them in as she asks so bluntly. "Yes," he says quietly before pushing out of the car. Shutting it quietly behind him. Keys come out of his pocket and he's letting them into the stairwell that leads up to his posh place. Wait, the liquor store owner lives here?! The fuuuck. The place is spartan, but no less stylish and in display of good taste and money if a bit monochrome. His thing for no colors continues on here it seems despite the various paintings around the place. There's a room that's open, but different, filled with canvas and polaroids. He's getting rid of his satchel and moving to a small collection of bins on the counter. It's one of those plastic organizing bin things with the halfstep front so you can fish the contents out after stacking several. Hers being the only phone there, he snags it and returns to her wherever she's gone off to. She follows him into his place, giving the space a quick once over. What she thinks of the apartment is a bit of a mystery -- no reaction measures on her expression; her opinion is her own. Is it strange that a dude who owns a liquor store lives here? Maybe. Maybe not? I mean, he owns a liquor store. People like to drink. That has to turn a profit. Lala doesn't know! She's old money rich! The way other people make cash is a bit of a vague mystery to her. She places her hands on her hips as Cian drops off his satchel and heads to the bins. She's still mayor of Grumpville; girl even taps her foot a bit. But then? Then he gives her her phone back and .... <3 <3 <3 HER PHONE <3 <3 <3 A big smile breaks over her features, her whole expression and demeanor changing. Unlocking the device, she holds it up and IMMEDIATELY TAKES HIS PICTURE. Yes, she is Instagramming this shit. "God, what a nightmare this has been," she says as she fires up a post. "Don't ever take my phone again, understand?" thief #robbed #missedyoubaby #neverleavemeagain Whatever she thinks, she's certainly not getting a clear picture of the man. Just as quickly as the camera comes up, the dodgy shadow is ducking and twisting away. The camera snaps a blurry form of something that could be human. She can instagram all she wants, it won't be involving him. Nooope. He even makes a face at her and almost hisses, "No." like scolding a dog. "I'm sorry your phone ended up in my things," he says again and then is promptly moving to try and angle her towards the door. Not even going to offer her a drink! Cian gives a tiny little shrug and shakes his head, "I can't promise it won't happen again. But if you'd been listening to me explaining what had happened, you'd know that." Is he a little hurt? Maybe. "Oh, I was listening," Lala says, her tone and mood much more amiable now that she has her phone back. The girl is busy reading and replying to all the texts she missed while she was phone-less for half a week -- HALf A WEEK -- and, as such, it is fairly easy to guide her toward the door. "However, in my experience, when people have long and complex explanations for why they did something, it usually means that it's bullshit. So from one bullshitter to another, here is a piece of advice: keep it simple next time." She laughs suddenly as something she reads on her phone, fingers flying over a response. bloop*       *bloop* bloop* bloop*       *bloop-bloop-bloop* Anyway! Where was she? Oh yeah. Now in the doorway, she turns to face Cian. "You said that you didn't know if you took my phone but when we got here, you went straight to a bin with one phone in it. So unless you blacked out while emptying your pockets too, your story doesn't add up. Hey -- just own it. Be like 'yeah, I took your phone, I won't do it again'." She cocks a crooked smile and shrugs. "Anyway, let's grab drinks sometime." Turning around, she begins to head off. "Count has my number. Just give me a call." Uuuugh. Bitch! She's kind of a bitch! But .. at least she's not mad anymore? GARREAUS. God. Cian blinks and shakes his head, "It's actually a condition. But sure, bullshit," he shrugs, rather uninterested at this point. "I didn't know I took your phone, I take three phones a day. Yours was the only one in the bin and your find pointed here. Simple," he shakes his head, "I can't promise I won't do it again. So I'm sorry, but," he shrugs because he's not sure what she's looking to get here. It's not like his response can change if he wants to remain honest. She mentions hanging out again and he just shakes his head, not intentionally, lady. "You're entirely Count's type, just like your cousin." The shadow is following her out though. Why? What the fuck? This is his house right. "Now are you going to give me a ride back to my car, or are you as heartless are you are clueless?" Her good mood goes flat at that last bit and she pauses her texting to look up at him. "Let me get this straight," Lala says, each word a little too crisp. "You steal my phone and inconvenience me for several days while I track it down. Then you act like a wounded puppy when I am /mad/ about this fact, call me heartless /and/ clueless. Then, after all that, you expect me to give you a ride?" She looks back at her screen and fires off a few more texts, the gestures with which she does so sharp and irritated. "Bullshit story or not, people generally don't like it when their shit gets stolen. You need to accept the fact that /you/ are in the wrong here, not me." She finishes what she was doing, unzips her bag, tosses her phone into it and /zips/ it again. Because /reasons/. "There. I've ordered you an Uber. It'll be here in about five minutes and it'll take you back to the liquor store." Her eyebrow lifts up and her lips purse. "Heartless," she huffs and then turns, heading off for her car and annoyed all over again. Jesus christ, what a fucking night. Cian sighs and shrinks some, "I said I was sorry, I told you why, and you have your phone back. I don't know what more you want from me, besides a promise I won't make," he watches her continue to be mad and just exhales a sigh while shaking his head. There's a reason he has stopped trying to interact with hundred percent humans. This is part of it. They don't understand. However, Springs are want to follow their desires and sometimes a guy just wants to hear that he's forgiven. With an insidious wriggle of Glamour, the sneakthief's magics seek out the part of her mind focused on making him suffer for having wronged her. Clearly he didn't mean it, he's just a guy going through a lot of things is all, right? Right. She ordered him an uber, so he just grimaces and nods, "Thank you," he says quietly, trying to watch her, gauge her reactions. He's standing on the curb, waiting for that dumb lift back to his dumb car. When she got her phone back, she wasn't even still mad at him at that point. Yeah, she thought his excuse was overly complicated and unbelievable but whatever! She had her phone! Lala was already over it and ready to make a date for drinks! She even said it -- 'let's grab drinks sometime' -- and then he was the one to drag her back into a foul mood by calling her clueless and heartless. So of course she didn't want to get back into a car with him. Why? So she could spend a car ride with him insulting her some more? Maybe give him the opportunity to steal more of her stuff? So she ordered him an Uber and extracted herself from the situation. She could have left him high and dry; she could have told him to order his own damn Uber. But she didn't. Because she's /not/ heartless, see? Grumble grumble grumble. Lala is driving away, muttering to herself. Irritated. Annoyed. And then .. she just. Kinda. Isn't. The feeling melts away. Maybe .. maybe she read the situation wrong? Maybe he isn't so bad? She did get her phone back -- the rest is just a misunderstanding. Her frown slowly shifts into a smile and the blonde bobs her head along to the music she has playing. Reaching over, she turns it up.       Loud.             Louder.                   Loudest. She's singing along, driving recklessly, speeding along the highway and byways waaaaaaay too fast. She's feeling good now! Feeling happy! Wheee...