I first noticed this girl working at a gun shop I am fond of. Since I am
left to live a normal life now, I have nothing but my interests to go on
for. My life is forever eternally.empty. Back to my point.
At first I disregarded her as another of the air head employees of many I have encountered, but that was before I heard the conversation that made me feel, for once in over a lifetime, humor.
"Hey, missy!" a short little man with weedy slick hair and seemingly ragged punk clothes nearly shouted across the counter where the said miss was reading a book.
She looked up over her think, stylish black glasses with her brow raised in question. I needed a new .45 colt and was merely browsing, but the next few words sparked my otherwise dormant emotion.
"You wanna go out back for a little fun, huh?" The man sleazily asked the girl in a quiet voice, loud enough for my hearing to pick up. A wave of unrelenting disgust ran through me and I dreaded that the girl would make a complete fool of herself, but as I turned back to browse elsewhere, I heard,
"And why in all glory hell would I want to do that, you pathetic little man?" I heard intelligence and was immediately curious enough to turn around and observe. "I hope you're not trying to pick me up, because if you are, I warn you I will seriously fuck up your central nervous system with chemicals I create in my basement that exist merely for the extermination of high-school drop outs-such as yourself-and rid the world of idiots and sleazy morons that try to pick up any girl they happen to see. Now, if you're looking for a gun, im sure I won't help you as I see what group YOU fall in. Either be on your way," she jerked her thumb at the window, "Or I will gladly throw your sorry ass out of that window there. Good day." That said, she turned back to her book on her lap as the insult man sputtered and scowled at her.
"You'll be sorry you ever said that, you whiny little bit-" He was in the process of slapping her when her left hand grabbed the assaulting hand by the wrist as the man cried out in panic, never even looking up from her book. "Don't touch me, sir. I will give you three seconds to leave," now she looked up, pure venom in her (mildly, he told himself0 attractive blue eyes, "Then I will personally introduce you to the seven layers of hell."
She flung the hand away from her towards the door and stood up, marking her place in the book with a long black bookmark. Casually, almost fluidly, she withdrew a rather large silver gun (a make I hadn't seen before) from her waistband and pointed it at the man's head. I was watching all this with interest, a scene that didn't happen every day in a world where everyone was afraid of being alienated by society.
"One." She started, glaring at the man who now looked terrified at this small slip of a girl. "Two." She cocked the gun. The man backed up and collided with a sales rack, fumbled around it and nearly raced outside into the fading light.
Suddenly she smiled, a smile that lit up her whole face and I glimpsed the beauty of this seemingly plain girl, and that smile encouraged me to smile. It was an alien feeling, to smile. I hadn't for years. It felt..good.
The woman clicked the safety back on and pointed it at the ceiling. "Three." She finished, and shook her head, sliding the large barrel gun back in her waistband. Sighing, she sat down back on the stool and picked up her book as if this was an every day occurrence in her life.
I was still standing in the same place, hands deep in my trench coat pockets, my infamous uninterested expression in place as I studied the girl I barely paid attention to before. She was fairly tall, though one or two inches were thanks to the well worn black boots that reached mid-shin. Long dark blue and white stocking-socks concealed her legs up to the jean-shorts she was wearing, cut off above the knee. The slightly baggy black shirt with a large white question mark embedded on it looked fairly new, and I judged by first glance she didn't have much money, but what she had she used it tastefully.
I had thought she was plain before, but had I looked closer I would have noticed something..special. She wore no make-up, her dark lashes and the slight tattoo lines at the far corners of her eyes, framing the clear blue eyes elegantly. Her features were interesting, a small nose with slightly larger lips, a small dot marked to the side of her right eye. Her hair was short, blacker than even my own, and pulled back in pig tails that accented the back and the sides of her head, shaved short and punk-ish. She looked almost too skinny, but I guessed the baggy-ish clothes made her smaller than she appeared.
I was arrested by an urge to know this girl. At least her name. I had not felt this sort of pull since I met Cloud and his family of friends. I wonder if this could be..attraction? Hmm.
She looked up at me, no emotion on her face then she one-sided smiled and pushed up her glasses slightly and softly laughed. "Sorry about that." She motioned to the door. "I get sleazes like that all the time in my shop. They usually see one of my working girls, Brenda, who has more air in her head than a balloon, and they assume all the girls here are the same. Makes you almost repulsed at the human race, huh?"
If she only knew. "Almost." I commented quietly. It was her turn to examine me, my long hair loose today with my trench coat and street clothes. She was totally aware of me watching her observe, but it seemed she didn't care. Interesting.
She stood up once more and marked her book before she walked over to me. My heart started racing as if my body was preparing for a fight. It disturbed as much as it exhilarated me.
"I'm Kaie Kaliska, I'm the owner of this store and I work here." She extended her hand and I hesitated a moment.
"My name is Vincent. Vincent Valentine."
At first I disregarded her as another of the air head employees of many I have encountered, but that was before I heard the conversation that made me feel, for once in over a lifetime, humor.
"Hey, missy!" a short little man with weedy slick hair and seemingly ragged punk clothes nearly shouted across the counter where the said miss was reading a book.
She looked up over her think, stylish black glasses with her brow raised in question. I needed a new .45 colt and was merely browsing, but the next few words sparked my otherwise dormant emotion.
"You wanna go out back for a little fun, huh?" The man sleazily asked the girl in a quiet voice, loud enough for my hearing to pick up. A wave of unrelenting disgust ran through me and I dreaded that the girl would make a complete fool of herself, but as I turned back to browse elsewhere, I heard,
"And why in all glory hell would I want to do that, you pathetic little man?" I heard intelligence and was immediately curious enough to turn around and observe. "I hope you're not trying to pick me up, because if you are, I warn you I will seriously fuck up your central nervous system with chemicals I create in my basement that exist merely for the extermination of high-school drop outs-such as yourself-and rid the world of idiots and sleazy morons that try to pick up any girl they happen to see. Now, if you're looking for a gun, im sure I won't help you as I see what group YOU fall in. Either be on your way," she jerked her thumb at the window, "Or I will gladly throw your sorry ass out of that window there. Good day." That said, she turned back to her book on her lap as the insult man sputtered and scowled at her.
"You'll be sorry you ever said that, you whiny little bit-" He was in the process of slapping her when her left hand grabbed the assaulting hand by the wrist as the man cried out in panic, never even looking up from her book. "Don't touch me, sir. I will give you three seconds to leave," now she looked up, pure venom in her (mildly, he told himself0 attractive blue eyes, "Then I will personally introduce you to the seven layers of hell."
She flung the hand away from her towards the door and stood up, marking her place in the book with a long black bookmark. Casually, almost fluidly, she withdrew a rather large silver gun (a make I hadn't seen before) from her waistband and pointed it at the man's head. I was watching all this with interest, a scene that didn't happen every day in a world where everyone was afraid of being alienated by society.
"One." She started, glaring at the man who now looked terrified at this small slip of a girl. "Two." She cocked the gun. The man backed up and collided with a sales rack, fumbled around it and nearly raced outside into the fading light.
Suddenly she smiled, a smile that lit up her whole face and I glimpsed the beauty of this seemingly plain girl, and that smile encouraged me to smile. It was an alien feeling, to smile. I hadn't for years. It felt..good.
The woman clicked the safety back on and pointed it at the ceiling. "Three." She finished, and shook her head, sliding the large barrel gun back in her waistband. Sighing, she sat down back on the stool and picked up her book as if this was an every day occurrence in her life.
I was still standing in the same place, hands deep in my trench coat pockets, my infamous uninterested expression in place as I studied the girl I barely paid attention to before. She was fairly tall, though one or two inches were thanks to the well worn black boots that reached mid-shin. Long dark blue and white stocking-socks concealed her legs up to the jean-shorts she was wearing, cut off above the knee. The slightly baggy black shirt with a large white question mark embedded on it looked fairly new, and I judged by first glance she didn't have much money, but what she had she used it tastefully.
I had thought she was plain before, but had I looked closer I would have noticed something..special. She wore no make-up, her dark lashes and the slight tattoo lines at the far corners of her eyes, framing the clear blue eyes elegantly. Her features were interesting, a small nose with slightly larger lips, a small dot marked to the side of her right eye. Her hair was short, blacker than even my own, and pulled back in pig tails that accented the back and the sides of her head, shaved short and punk-ish. She looked almost too skinny, but I guessed the baggy-ish clothes made her smaller than she appeared.
I was arrested by an urge to know this girl. At least her name. I had not felt this sort of pull since I met Cloud and his family of friends. I wonder if this could be..attraction? Hmm.
She looked up at me, no emotion on her face then she one-sided smiled and pushed up her glasses slightly and softly laughed. "Sorry about that." She motioned to the door. "I get sleazes like that all the time in my shop. They usually see one of my working girls, Brenda, who has more air in her head than a balloon, and they assume all the girls here are the same. Makes you almost repulsed at the human race, huh?"
If she only knew. "Almost." I commented quietly. It was her turn to examine me, my long hair loose today with my trench coat and street clothes. She was totally aware of me watching her observe, but it seemed she didn't care. Interesting.
She stood up once more and marked her book before she walked over to me. My heart started racing as if my body was preparing for a fight. It disturbed as much as it exhilarated me.
"I'm Kaie Kaliska, I'm the owner of this store and I work here." She extended her hand and I hesitated a moment.
"My name is Vincent. Vincent Valentine."