[D5 LA] Tiff's Tiff and other Miscellany

[Tiffani]

"Well ... " she says, opening one of the heavy metal and glass doors and ushering Jack through. "There are other book stores, of course. Everything from the huge Barnes and Noble chain to independently owned and operated little book stores. But, uh, I'm not really here to look for any books just yet, though if you want to stop in to look around, we can do that."

"It's more the clothing stores that you can't find anywhere else. Sure, the big department stores have some clothes, but the mall always has the best stuff. Well, at least they used to. I dunnae ... maybe things have changed."

She stops suddenly. "So, Jack, I know you probably don't really know but I'll ask anyway just in case. What kind of woman do you prefer as a girlfriend or potential wife? Just curious. Heh. You know me and my insatiable curiosity."

[Jack Doyle]

"I, um, haven't really thought about that..." he mumbled a reply, blushing. "Someone kind, who needs me? Does that make sense? I wouldn't want her to take care of me, at least not any more than I would provide for her."

[Tiffani]

Tiffani adopted a more leisurely pace as they mosied through the mall. She doesn't appear to be in any hurry even when she decides upon a store she seems to like and altered direction towards it.

"Yeah, that makes perfect sense. Needing someone is more than just in the physical sense. In fact, it someone needed me only because I took care of them, well ... I wouldn't claim much of a true romance in that regard."

She smiled enigmatically upon noticing Jack's blush but decided not to say anything about it - it had never been her intention to embarrass him in the first place and teasing him about it would only exacerbate his embarrassment.

"Hmm," she muttered as she scanned the available styles. That little sound seemed equal parts disappointment and skepticism. "Seems to me that a lot of styles have become more, hmm, androgynous since I've been gone." She pulls a few items from the rack and holds them up to herself just to get a basic idea of the fit.

"You don't have any physical preferences?" She holds up a warning finger. "Preferences, mind you, not requirements." She grins and resumes sizing the clothing. "Or maybe a particular way about them? Like, would you prefer someone bouncy and flirtatious or someone more sophisticated and reserved? Someone who likes driving with the windows down and the music up or, perhaps, someone who'd rather listen to Beethoven on a low volume for background ambience?"

[Jack Doyle]

"Someone artistic, creative." he answered. "Not too quiet. Outgoing. Expressive. Smart."

[Tiffani]

"Hmm, interesting," Tiffani says, her inflection obviously very genuine. "That's a pretty tall order having all of those attributes wrapped up in one woman. But ... I guess they're out there somewhere. Trick is finding one, I'd think."

She lays a few shirts and a couple pairs of designer jeans over her arm before moving to another section of the store that offers a look more akin to the styles of the 80s.

"Oh, this looks like a good haul," she says quietly, mostly to herself. "I don't know if I ever asked this or not but ... how old are you? I mean, how old were you when you were ... ah, you know ... taken? You have to be, what, at least a hundred now? If you'd rather not say, I'd understand, I guess, but trust me. I'm not collecting information for an evil overlord looking to use you in some nefarious plan." That last sentence was said with mock mysteriousness and a twinge of darkness. She then giggles as she lays a few more items over her arm. Indeed, Jack would not sense any guile or deception on her part. Just a frank, honest openness.

[Jack Doyle]

"Eleven, I think. Maybe twelve." he answered. "I don't remember many details from before."

[Tiffani]

"Damn," she said in response, stopping for a moment to think about all the ramifications of being taken so early. "At least I was a little older though, but not much." She then shrugged, resuming her very careful, methodical selections of various combinations of tops and bottoms. "Then again, children are more ... resilient. Less rigid in their thinking. I don't know if it was easier for you, personally, to accept your new reality. But I think it would be easier for children than most adults, people whose worldviews had solidified, people who lived in a universe where magic unequivocally did not exist."

She paused again and looked at Jack with a piercing gaze. "Know what I mean?"

Then that same gaze fell to the floor beneath her feet for just a moment. "Well, anyway," she began before Jack could have answered, "I didn't mean to bring up any miserable memories for you. I just think that to know each other, we should know each other. Not just our favorite colors, favorite musical groups, and favorite foods - the kind of banal and vapid crap you can find out about a person from reading their Facebook posts. Facebook. Now there is something I'm glad we didn't have in the 80s. All of this pretentious, petty information about what everyone had for dinner, the color of their new sweater, the promotion they just got at work - the presumption that anyone outside their closest friends and family would even care is just astounding to me."

Another very brief pause. "Sorry - I'm getting a little presumptuous myself, I suppose. I'm sure you didn't come along to listen to me preach and rant." She holds up an azure peasant's blouse to her chest, the kind with the ruffles along the plunging neckline and hem of the sleeves. "You think this looks good with my hair?"

[Jack Doyle]

He studied her for a moment, clearly giving it some thought. Finally, he nodded. "It looks good."

"I came to listen to anything you might say." he added. "I know I complained about the how noisy the world is now, but I enjoy conversation. My time in Arcadia was monotonous. We didn't talk. We simply worked, constantly. We made toys for years and years. Which toys we made would change regularly, but that was the only variation. That tedious repetition, the silence that came with it, it was maddening. It wiped away so much."

He watched a passing store clerk, staring at the name tag. "I don't remember my real name."

[Tiffani]

By now, Tiffani had collected enough things to buy that she had to have a store clerk take the pile up to the cashier so she could start building yet another pile. However there was a certain intensity in her actions - as if she were busying herself with the task of shopping to avoid dwelling too long on the things that depressed her.

"I'm a little surprised that you would ever want to make another toy for the rest of your life. i mean, what you describe sounds ... horrifying in its own way. Like being a slave." She pauses and watches Jack over her armload of clothes. "I don't know if I'd have that kind of strength - which you must have if you're willing to do here voluntarily what you had to do there against your will."

"It's funny you should be a toy maker since I was the toy. You know, the toy that was shown off but never shared, the kind that went in the closet when not being used, the kind that always had to supply endless hours of entertainment and amusement. Heh, in that sense, I could have been one of your creations."

After piling a bunch of jeans, denim minis, other types of pants and leggings onto her arm, she moves toward the dressing booths. "I have to try all this stuff on but you can still talk to me through the curtain. But ... no peeking!" She giggles a little as she disappears into a booth, drawing the curtain behind her.

[Jack Doyle]

"It's different, choosing what to make myself." he shrugged. "And, it is something my father did."

He sat down outside the booth and waited.