strangeness

Who: December and Max
When: Late Afternoon
Where: The Boardwalk

Max rarely let himself indulge in the things the Boardwalk had to offer and as he came to realize that the duck shooting game was rigged with a bad aim, he remembered why. “This is quite dishonest of you,” he was telling the man who worked the booth, examining the pellet rifle and eyeing him from behind the bangs falling in his eyes. He’d wanted the stuffed seal hanging above his head and the dishonesty taking place was preventing him from accomplishing his goal. He aimed the rifle at the man’s face and pulled the trigger, but with the rigging, it missed the man and hit the metal duck behind him. Pleased, Max reached up and grabbed the seal, holding it up for him to see. “I win. I’m taking this.” With no objections brought up Max left the booth and examined his prize as he headed down the boardwalk. He was in a relatively good mood given everything that had been going on in his life and there was a relaxed smile on his face as he tossed the seal from hand to hand.

And well wasn’t that interesting. The city coroner coming out of a tattoo shop. Max was not one for body art so there was never any reason for him to go in but seeing the strange woman had him heading in that direction. Who had he been again? Malcolm. That’s right. “Afternoon!” he called out to her with a wave and grin.

Most of the time December didn't actually expect anyone calling greetings to be addressing her. In this case the only reason she actually noticed was that he was in her line of sight, and he was looking directly at her. So she stopped, looking at him a moment before it clicked in. "Malcolm." she greeted. "Thanks for the bird." Since it had been a very nice addition to her morgue. She liked having him there, watching over all the procedures and staring accusingly at anyone who dared come by and disturb her work. "I named him Poe."

“I saw it in the window and just had to get it,” he explained. “I thought you might get some use out of it.” Max smiled at her and held out the seal. “I won this but don’t have anyone to give it to. Would you like it?” She was a strange one, with the metal in her face and she was an oddity that he wanted to figure out. That and she was one who received his trash and it was always best to know one’s colleagues.

December arched a brow at him, looking somewhere between amused and wary. "...sure?" she suggested, reaching out to take the seal. "That's new." she told him. "So. Moving on after Mr. Deadguy's untimely demise?" she asked. He didn't look like he was still grieving. He looked good, even, in that naturally handsome sort of manner. He also looked like he was dressed better than when he'd been at her office, though she didn't mention it.

“We still miss him,” Max answered easily and a more sober look appeared on his face. “But he’s gone and we can’t bring him back. There’s only moving forward. That’s life. We drink Fridays to his memory, help out his family where we can. She’s having a difficult time of it, naturally.” The grieving process. He hated the grieving process. “Some people find it cold, I find that I’m still living. I can’t stop when someone else’s life has stopped.”

Walking towards the pier, she walked slowly enough that he would follow if he wanted to keep up the conversation, a clear sort of invitation to do so. "Who finds it cold?" she asked. "It's life. People die all the time. Sort of one of those 'natural process' types of things. And sure, alright, Guy wasn't actually a natural death, but it still happens. Who's the pscyho who finds it cold that you're still alive and maybe doing something mildly entertaining with your day?"

Max smiled a little and followed her, hands shoved in the pockets of his pinstriped pants. “There’s a lot of people out there that grieve for long periods of time, or that it’s expected. Look at widows. Husband dies and they’re supposed to spend a year in mourning, not having any fun. Not allowed to smile. If they do, everyone else glares at them and talks about how they must not have been a very good wife.” He frowned as he realized what he said and gave her a sheepish look. “Not that I’m a wife or something. But plenty of people love to judge.” That’s who Malcolm was. The aw shucks friend of the family and he blushed on cue and scratched the back of his head in mild embarrassment.

"Something tells me you hang out with the wrong kinds of people." December noted. "Sounds like a lot of people with sticks permanently affixed to their sphincters. Or the really religious. Or the uptight society assholes who love to imagine that their shit doesn't stink." she added. "Here in the real world, people die. And you get over it, or you're stuck in some funk for ages and not living your life, just because someone else isn't living theirs. It's ridiculous, as far as concepts go." she told him, holding the seal in her arm as they walked. "But then you're looking a little more 'society' today than you were last time I saw you. You a bit of a chameleon. Malcolm?" she asked, though it didn't hold a suspicious note. More just an observation. She knew she sort of was in some ways. Or she could be considered as such.

“I work for one,” he said and tugged at his vest in mild distaste. “I see it all but I don’t belong with them. It’s entertaining though. Lifestyles of the self absorbed.” He winked at her and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He was in badly need of a haircut but he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. “Lucky for me my boss has decided that his secretary is more interesting than work today so I’m playing a little hooky. You?”

"So where do you belong then?" she asked. "And you get a new job since last time I saw you?" Since this guy didn't mesh up with the guy he was when she'd seen him before. Not that she really cared, she was just curious. Then she addressed his question, as they got to the railing that overlooked the water. She climbed up onto the rail, to perch on it, turning her eyes on him. They looked more green than blue today, in response to the green laced through her mostly black dress. All of the ribbon in it, the laces and the kind were a dark if rich forest green, including the laces in her corset piercing, even if that was mostly hidden. One would have to look to truly catch what they were seeing, which he might have done when she climbed up and had her back to him. "I decided to close the shop early today."

“I belong everywhere,” he said and leaned back against the railing beside her so he could look at the boardwalk and all the people. “But I suppose you could say that my situation’s changed since we’ve last seen each other. Gotta keep things interesting, right?” He couldn’t actually remember what he told her he’d done, but didn’t think it really mattered all that much. He’d caught sight of some green on her back and looked at her curiously. “What’s on your back?”

"Everywhere is a good way of saying 'nowhere'." December told him. Then she reached up and pulled her hair over one shoulder, leaning forward so he could see. "In my back. Pins and ribbons." she told him, watching him to see how he might react. Most people were pretty damn freaked out, but she wasn't entirely sure he would be.

Max would be curious but Malcolm would find it strange at best and horrified at worst so the reaction was somewhere in between as he gave her a flabbergasted look, clearly unsure of what to make of that. “Why would you put something in your back like that?” he asked, looking like he didn’t know whether to pull back in repulsion or lean in to see if that really was there on her back. “Doesn’t that hurt? Who did something like that to you?” And how deep in the skin are they so I can hook someone up next time I get the fancy.

She watched, saw the flicker of expressions on his features. Interesting. "Of course it hurt." she said first. "It's like people ask me that when they come in for tattoo consults. Yes, it hurts. You're shoving metal into your skin, and in my case, lots of metal, and I keep it there. I would put something in my back like that because I like it. I like the process. I like having someone thread the ribbon through. I like how it looks. I like how it feels. As for who did it, a friend, a long time ago. I do smaller ones in different places." she told him, then she tugged her skirt up just enough to show another lacing pattern on her thigh. It was there almost like garters would be. It was a quick peek, something she only gave him for a heartbeat before she dropped her skirt back into place.

Max still projected the flabbergasted look but inside he was wondering how he would go about doing that to someone. How long would it take for the skin to rip when they were pulled? How much force would need to be applied? “I’ve never heard of anyone doing that before,” he said, Malcolm trying not to offend her. December was certainly an odd sort.

“Most people haven’t. It isn’t exactly common practice. It’s...” she paused, trying to figure out her wording. “Tribal, or that’s where it originates. Like, women pierce their ears, and no one thinks that’s odd. But I bet you didn’t know that it was fashionable for men to do so not all that long ago in Europe. These days you’re going to get damn funny looks if a man turns up with earrings, but...” she trailed off. She watched him for a moment. "You're allowed to be curious, you know." she added.

“I know pirates had earrings,” Max offered, smiling a little and shook his head. “I’m just trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you have bits of metal in your back.” He made a shifty movement like there was something on his back to illustrate. “I think I’ll not look into that option.” Oh yes he would. On his own anyway.

"I know absolutely no one else in this city who would." she said, unsurprised. "Though you didn't look disgusted and tell me I was going to hell, or whatever, so I guess that's something." Most people did, after all. There was a reason December would have walked straight by the guy if she hadn't been looking straight at him when he greeted her. She wouldn't have expected anyone to talk to her, period. Taking out a little pocket knife, she considered the seal.

“Why would you go to hell for putting metal in yourself?” he asked. He could understand why someone might say he would be going to hell but why would she? “Sure, it’s not normal... around here, but you’re not hurting anyone.” He watched her look at the seal with the pocket knife and had a sudden flash of mutilating his own stuffed animals. December was strange but he didn’t think she was different like him. She seemed more of a combination of out of the ordinary in general with maybe a need to shock people (what with the metal bits).

"I don't know. People think that I must be into devil worship or something." December said, shrugging. "Though I know I read somewhere that people believed a piercing protected you from evil spirits." She couldn't remember where, but somewhere it said something like that. Carefully, she dug her knife in behind one of the eyes of the seal, to clip the eye-bead free. She pocketed that first, then reached beneath her skirt to pull one of the ribbons out from beneath it, starting to carefully thread the ribbon through it's eye-hole to stitch it shut. It took a while, but she was taking her time with it. "I think that stuff combined with the idea that I'm also a tattoo artist, and a person who cuts up dead people is just enough for people to assume there's nothing good about me." she mused, though she didn't sound upset about it. At the moment, she wasn't upset about anything but one thing--and that was her suspicion that wouldn't quite leave her. What Eric had kicked up in the back of her mind hadn't gone to rest, not entirely. but she wasn't thinking about that right now, apparently she was having a weird conversation with a guy who'd had a friend mutilated. And who gave her a mechanical bird. Which gave her pause. "You know, you're kind of strange." she said, even if they'd been just discussing how she was.

“Strange?” he asked with a light chuckle and raised an eyebrow at her. Strange. Coming from her. “I like to think of myself as unique. Why strange?” For her to label him strange, he’d have to have done something that she found odd and he imagined that her bar for oddness was quite high. “And I think Devil Worship is reaching a little. You might just be Godless.”

"I think people think anyone who's godless is going to hell too." December told him. Once she was done stitching the eye hole shut, she smiled, and clipped the ribbon. Then she held it between her knees while she fished the blue eye-bead out of her pocket again, and she threaded some more green ribbon through it. "You're strange because you don't quite add up." she told him. "You seem a little better educated right now than you did when I first met you. And you intrigued me a little then as well, sure, but you're more interesting today. And certainly, that could have everything to do with the whole loss of a buddy thing, but I don't know. You're dressed far better today, have much less of a 'working class guy' vibe going. It's almost like you're playing a role. Or you were then. Can't tell which is which. Hold out your arm." she told him. All while she was telling him why he was strange, she still didn't sound like she was put off by it. Just that it was an observation he'd asked her to share. Most people would have been accusing him of something, but she wasn't.

Curious, Max held out his arm, wondering what she was going to do as he took in her observations. “Well, I did just find out that my friend had been murdered,” he said. “After having been up all night in regards to the matter. It’s enough to make anyone seem less put together than they usually are.” He looked at her, his eyes that piercing, unnatural blue like the bead she was stringing. “The same could be said of you. That you’re more interesting today than you were the other day.” It wasn’t a very obvious flirt and he wasn’t trying with it. He was curious to see what she’d do in it’s response.

"I did say that." December said, since she'd pointed out it could have been from the loss of a buddy. She took the ribbon she had and looped it around his wrist a few times, then tied it off, giving him a green ribbon bracelet with a blue doll eye on it. "As for me being more interesting today, we aren't in my office." she told him, pocketing her knife again, and she went back to absently hugging her now mutilated seal. "Everyone's more dull in their professional setting. It's a job requirement, unless you work someplace like here, or the carnival. Unless you're meant to entertain in some fashion. I just think you're not quite who you seem to be, that's all." She shrugged. "I'd rather know the truth, but something tells me you won't be all that inclined to share. Even if I had to guess, I’d say a little more truth lies in the fact that you bought me a scary mechanical bird that scares the bejesus out of people who visit my morgue, and which had to have cost a pretty goddamn penny, because those types of things aren’t just lying around.”

Max held up his wrist to examine the makeshift bracelet, not quite sure what to make of it, but he didn’t take it off so that might say something. She was astute, he’d give her that, but she was a coroner, it was her job to observe things. On corpses, yes, but certain skills carried over. “Would it crush your dreams if I told you that the shop keeper practically gave it away if I’d just take it away?” he asked lightly. It was the truth and Max had gotten more than he’d expected that day. They still hadn’t found the child’s body according to the papers. “I’m a giver. I like to make people happy.” But that was all she was going to get from him. She was right in her assumption that he wasn’t inclined to share.

She smirked. "No." she said. "But I'd be more inclined to think that some artist somewhere put a hell of a lot of time into it. It's beautiful. It's someone's inner darkness, given form with sharp edges for all to gaze at. I love it." she told him. "Got him a collar and everything." And she had another mechanical piece of work, in her shop. The dragon Eric had made her, and that thought gave her another internal pang. God, she'd better be fucking wrong. "Also, you would have had to understand me well enough from our short visit to know I'd like it. So, I think you're sharper than you'd been letting on that day." Though he wasn't playing that today. "So....you must have a line of work that means you have to blend." she assessed, eyes on him as she considered. "Interesting."

He shrugged. “I have a little sister who I like to spoil,” he said honestly. “I’ve gotten pretty good at reading her ever changing whims.” A musical bracelet for the seventeen year old Arienne was versus the poisonous music box for the ruler she wanted to be. He was really happy with how that last gift turned out. “And with your candles everywhere, the suspicion was laid out for me.” Another shrug and he pushed off the railing, seeing this as his cue to start moving on, let her stew on things. Interesting, he was fine with. Anything more and things would get messy and he couldn’t afford to have the coroner dead when he already was comfortable with the current status quo. “Are you going to give him an eyepatch and an earring?” he asked, nodding to the seal.

She considered the seal for a moment. "Well, he doesn't have ears to pierce, but an eye patch may be in his future." she assessed. "Have a good day, Malcolm." she said, aware he was taking off. "Enjoy the bracelet." she told him with an amused little smirk.

Max gave her a little bow and a wink, holding up the wrist with the ribbon. “Enjoy the seal.” A wave and he walked away, hands shoved in his pockets as he considered if there was something to be done about her. No, he decided. She was fine for now, interesting enough for him to not mind keeping an eye on her and she’d been kind enough to give him some ideas. He’d have to tread lightly, but he decided that soon, he was going to be looking into metal rings...