2007-04-03: Tragically Misguided


Jeremy_icon.gif Mitch_icon.gif

Summary: Mitch occurs and is rude. Jeremy reacts and isn't much better. Snark happens.

Date It Happened: 04/03/07

Tragically Misguided

Bitchin' Stitchin'

It's midday. The sun is shining. Birds aren't really singing, but that's okay, the traffic outside makes up for it. Even by this store's standards, it's a slow day, and Jeremy is taking a break anyway and using the front desk as a convenient kick-back spot. Behind him and beyond the bead curtains seems to be some people working, but he, however, is sitting back in his chair and reading a book, reading glasses perched low on his nose. A steaming mug of… something, probably tea, rests on the desk beside him, as well as what looks to be a deck of cards. Not the standard kind, but some sort of obscurely designed oracle or Tarot-type deck. Now and then, he picks up a card, studies it, refers back to his book.

Into this idyllic little scene bursts a woman walking backwards, using her elbows and some blind grasping to shove the door open while completely shattering the relative tranquility of the store. "YEAH? YEAH?!" Mitch is yelling, /shrilly/, at… well, it's not entirely obvious - someone in the street, clearly. "SCREW YOU, LADY! You can take your fricking ideals and shove them up your a— " She's cut off only by seeming to realize she's inside the store now, meaning her eyes fall upon the first person inside she sees: Jeremy. "…oh, hi." The woman's appearance is contrary to all her rude yelling, her hair in old-fashioned curls, borderline silly thick-framed glasses on her nose, and a cutesy, cornflower blue dress with slightly poofy sleeves, high collar, and swishy skirt. She enters in a bustle, bags flying everywhere. One is a garment bag.

Behind his glasses, Jeremy's eyes look even wider as… /something/ occurs within his little store. Well. Only in New York. He plasters on an uncertain smile, looking the woman over carefully as he takes off his glasses. He is dressed rather conservatively, with a shirt buttoned to the neck and nicely fitted slacks. "Welcome to Bitchin' Stichin'. Mostly a quiet zone, as you. Might have noticed." Maybe. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, well." That's Mitch's reply to 'quiet zone', for the record. Stepping further into the store, she sort of … spins around, swaying her hips this way and that while she tries to get a grip on all of her bags. It involves hefting the garment bag up and re-flinging it over her arm. "I have this dress…" She pokes at the garment bag, then lets her gaze rove about curiously. "…which ripped, totally tragic. The last time I tried to sew, I almost took an EYE out, so I fiiiigured, since this place has such an awesome name…"

Jeremy stands up, setting his maybe-tea and Tarot deck aside - although he doesn't move around to the other side of the desk. He just sort of leans over to peer at the garment bag, although his eyes do get caught up on the somewhat poofy sleeves on the dress she's wearing with slight alarm. "Oh well, yeah, it's an awesome name. Heh, rips happen. Iiif you show me, I'll see what we can— you can put some of those bags down if you like, really."

Mitch hesitates for a moment before dropping some of the shopping bags down in a pile in front of the counter - save for the garment bag, of course. That, she walks over to Jeremy with. "So like," she begins as she flops the bag down on the table the tarot cards sit upon and starts to unzip it. "Are you any good or what?" An eyebrow arches slightly above the rim of her glasses. She pulls the dress out just far enough to reveal the rip, at the back, where the zipper ends along the seam. The dress itself is fancier than the one she currently wears, despite the polkadots. "Are you the seam… ster? It's vintage."

Twitch. "No," Jeremy says, shortly. "I'm not a seam…ster." Now there's a new one. "I'm a sewing professional." Wrinkling his nose, Jeremy extracts his cards out from under the dress and sets them aside. Then, he's all business, angling the dress so he can see the damage, eyes squinting. "Well, I can't do anything about the polkadots, but I can certainly mend the rip."

"Sewing professional. Okay! To each their own, man. I got it. … What's wrong with polkadots?" Mitch looms over the table while she watches Jeremy's examination of her ripped dress, but the deck of cards catches her attention. "Are those tarot cards?" She queries casually as she eyes the deck, but with just a /hint/ of cynicism. A light drizzling. It's nothing. Really.

"Nothing. Very classic. Each to their own," Jeremy replies, with just a hint of snark. A light drizzling. But he's mostly focused on the dress. "This shouldn't be a problem, the seam's only ruined but the fabric hasn't suffered." Then, he glances over. If he notices her cynicism, it doesn't show, because he nods! and says, "Yeah, that's my Ananda Tarot deck, I just got it this morning. Computer graphic designs give a sort of contemporary energy."

There's a smirk on Mitch's face. Why? It is a mystery! "Contemporary energy, eh?" She plants a hand on her hip and eyes her dress for a moment before her gaze sliiiides back over to that Ananda deck. "So do you read them?" She glances to one of those fliers. Oh, she entered in a hustle and bustle, but she's nosy. She looked around. She saw 'em. "Between 'reiki healing' and 'paranormal consultations', right?" Skepticism. It is high in this one.

Squint. Jeremy sets the dress back down, glancing towards the noticeboard. "Well, you know. Girl's gotta do something other than sew," he says, picking up the deck and holding it a little protectively. "I specialise also in the supernatural side of life, yeah. It's not for everyone, but it can be really eye opening. I'm not a licensed Tarot reader, though." You know, in case she was wondering about that.

Mitch lifts a brow. "You can't… get licensed," she says, although she sounds unsure. "…at least, I'm pretty sure you can't. Um. Right. Do you get paid for this stuff?" she plucks at the corner of one of the posted sheets on the paranormal, squinting at it. "Yeeeeah," she croons in her slightly childish voice - it's the tone a person adapts when their real meaning is 'okay, weirdo'.

"There's. You. It's a thing, you can get a license to show that— it's a course you take— nevermind." Jeremy, slightly huffy now, shoves the cards back into their box and sets it on a bookcase, filled with all kinds of books on the subject of which they talk now. "There's a standard fee for the reiki and Tarot, but only if people wanna pay it. Some people just too /closed-minded/ to really get the value."

"You can take courses on anything these days. You can take courses on Buffy the freakin' Vampire Slayer, does that make you a licensed killer of vampires?" Mitch shrugs and smiles in what would be a cute little gesture, if… you know, she wasn't dissing Jeremy's beliefs. "Seriously though, I know all about this crap. My mom's a— " She lifts up her hands and makes air quotes, "'psychic'. Cheating people out of their money since the seventies."

"I think… that's different," Jeremy says, slowly, on this talk of BtVS courses. For the very perceptive, it's obvious that he almost wants to inquire about such a thing, but just manages to restrain himself. At this next piece of insight, Jeremy shrugs his shoulders, hands now on his hips. "There's a lot of cheaters out there. It's why you have to be careful. And if you got a gift for real, then you should use it to help people. And that's what I do."

"Okay," Mitch says agreeably enough; her hands are also with her hands on her hips, and she twists her mouth to the side while she peers at Jeremy through her glasses nosily. Too nosily to let it sit at that. "How. Exactly. Do you do that?"

Jeremy really doesn't mean to get into arguments with customers, really. It's totally not a typical thing. But he is being /baited/. "Reiki healing makes people feel better, the Tarot gives insight to— stuff that otherwise would be hard to have insight on," he says, defensiveness clear in his voice. He glances again to the fliers, focusing on the one about paranormal consultation. "And— and if people have. Well." He turns towards the noticeboard, chin up, before he loosely gestures to what appears to be a photocopied print out of the cover of Activating Evolution, half-obscured by a Secret Lair RPG meeting notice. "Extraordinary abilities and don't know how to start figuring it out, I can help out. Sort of."

"Okay, okay, I'm with you," Mitch says, although it's not quite /conceding/, per se - she holds her hands out, palms facing Jeremy. "My mom's a total scam, I mean, how couldn't she be, right, but she was all about making people feel better about their dead grandmothers and everything. She made people happy, you know? Except for the times when customers found out that she was pulling a complete Whoopi Goldberg In Ghost Before Sam Happened thing. But like," The journalist eyes the Activating Evolution photocopy and crosses her arms. "Wow. Like… Extraordinary abilities, like what, real ESP?" She laughs — there's nothing cynical about that bubbly little sound, more of a giggle, but it's followed by a deadpanned: "Are you some kind of guru for the tragically misguided?"

"I think there's only /one/ tragically misguided person in this room," Jeremy says. He moves to pick up her dress from the table. "I'm sorry your mom was a scammer, but really, there's more to life than what meets the eye. You only gotta look, you know." He holds up the dress. "This repair'll only cost you $10 unless you want anything else done, and you can pick it up tomorrow."

"I'm glad you agree." Tragically misguided, that is. Mitch watches Jeremy expectantly for a few seconds as if waiting for him to say yes or no. … guru? No? Yes? Fiiine. "Ten bucks? Sweet deal. Bitchin', one could say," she says with a little grin. She snatches her variety of bags from affront the counter and swings them to and fro. "Okaaaay, you have fun with your cards with the pretty pictures, and theextraordinary… teaching, or whatever, I'll be back tomorrow!"

"You have fun with your poofy sleeves," Jeremy says with a bland smile, holding up a hand to waggle his fingers in a wave of departure. "See you bright and early."

As she opens the door to wiggle her way out with her array of bags, Mitch *eyes* the "sewing professional" for that. Her poofy sleeves would poof in defense if they could, but alas, her mini-glare will have to do before she wanders off into the sunny day.

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