[D5 LA] Tiff's Tiff and other Miscellany

[Tiffani]

"Hmph," Tiffani muttered as she looked over an ultra-modern looking computer desk with lots of chrome and glass.

"I already said I'm willing to try and make things work. But I can't do it all on my own. Be right back."

She doesn't shop long for a computer desk, either, opting for the first one that caught her interest - a very sleek, ultra-modern type with a glass top, loads of drawers, a shelving add-on that will probably reach the ceiling - it even has built-in cord clips to keep all of those annoying computer cords from tangling with each other. She flags down another sales clerk, a few words are exchanged, then he nods before walking off.

"I'm sorry if I have this sense of ... I dunnae ... forboding, I guess. But I do. That won't stop until I know this is truly over. Maybe she'll listen to you. Besides, I need to buy this stuff regardles. Unless I want to keep sleeping on the floor and staring at the walls for entertainment. What kind of bookshelf are you interested in?"

[Jack Doyle]

"I just worry." he sighed. "You don't seem to carry much hope. You seem so convinced that this can't be worked out, I wonder if you'll be happy if it is. We all should accept one another as we are. We all should want to be a part of this."

"A small shelf would be fine." he added. "I don't have any books yet, and I wouldn't want anything too tall."

[Tiffani]

Tiffani locks her arm with Jack's like they're going to a dance and all but drags him over to where the bookshelves are.

"It's hard to hope, Jack," she says, letting Jack look over the bookshelves. Actually she starts eyeing the shelves as well deciding she might need one herself.

"I feel as if my soul was shredded in some kind of a meat grinder. I don't mean just what happened with Chantelle. I don't even mean just what happened with my durance. I just ... I mean ... it's been so ... " Then she just throws her hands up in defeat as words utterly fail her.

"I don't know if I can do it, Jack," she falls into that whisper again, though her tone carries a darkness like that found at the bottom of a very deep well. "And no, I don't mean this issue with Chantelle. I'm talking about ... all of it. Everything. My whole life seems to be about me wandering into one disaster after another. Wait, I kinda know what it is. It's that everyone expects you to be happy, cheerful, and upbeat all the time - and there's no one to really talk to when I'm not. How about this one?"

She indicates a bookshelf with 5 shelves made of sturdy oak with only a little ornamentation on the top and legs.

[Jack Doyle]

He rapped his knuckles against it. "It's good wood. Solid craftsmanship. Not bad at all."

"I know how difficult it can be to find hope." Jack continued to inspect the bookshelf. "That's why it's so important. Without hope, there's little to live for. We become lost in whatever routines help us survive. We trust in those and nothing else, accepting only what we expect to be, instead of seeking what we want."

"This is a fine shelf. But, I'll make it a better one." he smiled.

[Tiffani]

Tiffani smiled at Jack and said, "Well bookshelves are always better with some books in them - but I know that's not what you mean." She snickered softly as she picked out one for herself, another ultra-modern one with glass shelving and even interior lighting.

"Yeah, well ... I don't really have a routine. Not yet, anyway. But ... how to put this ... I miss things like ... hanging out with friends, going to the movies, going to dances, the occasional party, that sort of thing. The kinds of things people my age do. I just don't know if that's even possible now."

"Almost done," she says, grabbing Jack's arm and pulling him along with her to the electronics department. "At least for the big stuff. I have to get clothes, too, but, uh ... that would probably bore you to tears. Which is understandable."

A pause.

"Do ... do you have anyone that you confide in? I mean really talk to? Like, those one-on-one conversations with a friend on some warm, balmy summer night when you just kick back with a few beers and just ... let go?"

[Jack Doyle]

"No." he admitted. "That's why the Motley means so much to me. I like Chantelle. She's been kind and welcoming. I like you. I've enjoyed our discussion. I'll probably like Marcus, once I know him better. After a century surrounded by silent automitons, it's comforting to be surrounded by friends."

[Tiffani]

"Yeah ... " She says thoughtfully as she stands in front of a bank of televisions with one arm folded across her chest, the other pinching her bottom lip. "I was pretty excited about the motley, too. The first night I spent outside of the Hedge involved me curling up underneath a porch. I think it took me all the next day to get all the dirt and spiderwebs out of my hair. I thought I would have to do that for the rest of my life. I can't even get help - not really - because I don't exist anymore."

She picks up a remote and scowls at it. "My god, Jack, what do these things do? There's enough buttons on this thing to fly the space shuttle. Last time I was in the mortal world, television remotes were a luxury - and they had three buttons: power, volume, channel changer. That's it. Now? Look at this thing!" She holds it up for Jack to see. "I'm just going to have to pick one at random or I'll be here all night trying to figure out these new televisions."

If it weren't obvious by now, she can be one to suddenly change subjects even in the middle of conversations and this time is no exception.

"Well, anyway ... I don't mean to sound cheesy or anything but if you just want to talk to someone. About anything. I'll listen. Ya know? I won't say a word if that's what you wish. I just want you to know that - even if you never do talk to me. I know a lot of us are lonely people, but we don't have to be. Not if we learn to trust again."

[Jack Doyle]

"Televisions were something my father read about in the newspaper." Jack said. "I'd like to talk more, Tiffani. And, you can always talk to me."

[Tiffani]

"Heh, well ... I can talk your ear off if I'm not careful." Something seems to catch in her mind after she says that and the barest hint of a frown - the tiniest turning down of the corners of her mouth - begins to form. "That might be something I'm liable to change, too."

"Eeeny, meeny, miney, mo ..." She begins pointing at various televisions at random. "Catch a tiger by it's toe ... tigers don't even have toes, really, but anyway ... if he hollers let me go ... and tigers don't talk either, so ... eeny, meeny, miney mo."

Again she flags down a sales clerk and tells him to carry the randomly-chosen television up to the front. "Oh, and don't forget those two bookshelves," she tells him. He cranes his neck to see all the way back in the furniture department, nods, and scurries off.

"I really don't think many people are interested in anyone else," Tiffani finally continues after the business is settled. "No one asks any questions the way normal people do - not even about banal, mundane things. Nor do they answer them, either. It's ... a cold feeling, Jack. An empty feeling, the feeling of always being a stranger even to your friends. That's ... kinda the point to the song I was singing earlier, ya know? Just like this whole situation with Chantelle could have been completely averted with just one simple question: 'What kind of collectable item, Tiffani?' But everyone seems so scared of asking or telling anyone anything - so it's not up to me to trust. Not when I sense distrust ... everywhere."

"And there I go again, talking your ear off. I guess I'll just shut up now."

[Jack Doyle]

"She did show curiosity in it, though. It may have been out of the suspicion you felt, but she was interested in it." he shrugged. "That all happened so fast. I was still suggesting what we could shop for when you turned and walked out. I didn't know what was happening, until you explained it to Chantelle."

There was a quiet moment of contemplation. "Have you ever tried not thinking of a white bear?"