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Vriska Serket leaned against the counter, placing a smirk on her lips as she twirled her platinum blonde hair (all natural!) and tapped her fingers ever so slowly.
"Come on, you don't have to be like that," she spoke, her voice a sweet syrup of what it usually was.
The man at the counter didn't seem very fazed, simply looking at her and casually adjusting his 7-11 nametag. "I'm sorry, Ms., but I'm going to have to see some ID."
"I don't look eighteen to you?"
" I need to confirm that you are."
"Really," she said, resting her head on her hands and leaning even more on the counter, "How much do I have to pay you?"
"Paying me won't help. If I don't see any ID, I can't give you anything."
" Is it because you don't want your little boss catching you?"
"It's because it's the law. Now, show me something, or kindly make your way out of this store."
"Ugh, fiiiiiiiine," she huffed, irritation obvious on her face as she stood up straight, "Listen, I literally had to walk here, and I have only enough money to pay for it. My license is back at home, and that's a thirty minute walk itself."
" Ms, I have to see a form of identification--"
"ID, ID, ID, jeez, you sound like a robot," she snapped, "How about you just give me what I want, let me pay for it, and call it a day?"
"How about you show me your license?"
"Stop being so goddamn difficult and just give them to me!"
"Your language won't convince me of anything, other than that you're rude," he said, face neutral, "As I said before, show me some ID, or--"
"You won't let some girl get what she needs? How can you be so heartless?" she said, fixing her face into a saddened disgust.
The man sighed loudly, obviously annoyed by her, "Well, Kanye West, I'm sorry, but I can't give you cigarettes or tobacco products in general unless I know you're eighteen."
"You know what? Fine. I'll just go all the way back home," she finally said, "and take an hour to get something you could just give me right now!"
"Go, then."
"Uuuuuuuugh!" she groaned loudly as she stormed out of the store, leaning against non-glass part of the wall. She'd just have to wait for some kid to help her out. Most of the people she knew, which meant almost everyone, went to this 7-11, so she was bound to find someone. She'd just have to wait.
- . -
Eridan Ampora looked at his reflection in the car mirror, a habit that both him and his older brother did very often. Despite going through the entire day, his do had managed to hold up. That didn't stop him from attempting to fix it with his hands. The faded purple streak in the middle of his deep brown hair was fading back to it's bleached blonde, and he remembered to remind himself to re-dye it soon. For a sixteen year old boy, he'd say he looked good.
With a final sigh, he opened the car door, looking one last time to Cronus, who was lazily lounging in the passenger seat. With his slicked back hair and leather jacket, he looked like he was stuck in the 50's, and probably was. In fact, the only reason he was going in for him was because the people at registers had a tendency to burst out laughing.
"What did you want again?" he said. His habit of tripping over w's and v's was something quite subtle; his parents used to be extremely concerned about it, but everyone had eventually gotten used to it. It wasn't like he was the only one with odd speech.
"A Snickers, some chips, and a pop."
He blinked.
"A soda," his brother explained with a sigh.
"Yeah, okay. Don't do anythin stupid while I'm gone."
"Sure thing, chief."
"I ain't no chief," he snapped before closing the door, and walking towards the tiny convenience store.
Of course, before he was even near the door, she popped up out of nowhere, blue lips quirked into a smile and eyes looking him up and down as always.
"Well, well, well," she said, letting out a chuckle, "If it isn't--"
"Out of all people to see here, it had to be you," he said, glaring, "I don't have any fuckin time for this."
They'd been enemies since he'd moved to the town in the eighth grade; she always had her messy blonde hair, tipped with blue, blue lipstick, and her dumb glasses, one lens always blacked out. He remembered the school talking all about it; how some mystery accident left her with one eye, but he wasn't sure if he actually believed it. He just thought it was another grab for attention. He once told her that she should just wear an eye patch, and she punched him in the face. He liked to pretend that never happened.
He sidestepped, and she followed, blocking him with another laugh. He balled his fists, trying his best not to look toward the car. He didn't need her knowing that he was getting something for someone. Eyeing the door, he attempted to make a run for it. Unfortunately, she thought quicker than he did.
"I've had enough a this!" he yelled, voice higher than usual in irritation, "Can you PLEASE let me go??!?!?"
"On one condition."
He huffed, trying once again to get past her, but to no avail.
"You're a rich kid. I'm sure you have a fake ID, right?"
His eyebrows raised. "Where are you goin with this?"
"Think you could," she leaned by his ear in a quick motion, speaking quietly with a smile, "buy me something?"
"What kind of somethin?"
"God, ignorant much?" she said, tone chastising, "I need some cigs."
"And what makes you think I'll buy anythin for you?" he spat, eyes narrow.
"The fact that I'll twist your arm if you don't."
"Why can't you buy your own?"
She laughed, putting a hand on her hip. "I've got way too many irons in the fire to deal with buying cigarettes."
"Wha--"
"All of the irons, my boy. All of them."
He groaned, shoving his hands in the pockets of the black skinny jeans he wore. "Fine. But just this once, okay??? Don't try to ask me again, cause I'll say no."
"Aaaaaaaaw, you're so sweet," she said, touching his arm as she got out of the way, "And don't get Malboros either, Eridouche."
"Yeah, crappy old Newports for you." he said, basically storming into the store. Fuck, she was irritating.
He found his brother's chips, bar, and soda, along with reluctantly asking the man at the counter for Newports and flashing his ID. Truth be told, he barely used it; he just had it with him in case he was invited to a party at a club, or had to buy alcohol. It hadn't happened yet, but he figured it would someday.
"Are they for you?" the man asked, and the boy raised his eyebrows.
"The Newports. You aren't buying them for some blonde chick."
"Blonde chick?"
"Yeah, nevermind."
The clerk rang them up with whatever small amount of pleasure you had as a 7-11 employee, and bid him a good day. As soon as he stepped outside, she snatched the bag, holding it up as she walked backwards, wide grin on her face.
"Hey! Not all a that stuff's for you!" he said, running towards her.
She sprinted off, onto the sidewalk and almost out of sight before he could even move. She was probably a track star to be, but never tried out for any sports. She thought they were lame. Of course, your tiny science geek body was no match for hers, and you decided not to make an effort.
"It is now! Thanks!" she yelled, smiling wide as she held up the back before laughing and running out of sight.
"Damn cigarette smoking wench!" he shouted before kicking the wall, and walking back into the store to rebuy the items, not even bothering to reply when the clerk told him once again to have a nice day, "Never buying her anything again!"
Of course, then she was there again, sucking on a lollipop, hair in a ponytail, blue hoodie, red shoes, and he considered moving to another town. Because no matter how many times the annoying, thieving, conniving, selfish rat asked him to do something for her, he would probably do it. And he did.
"You really shouldn't smoke. It ain't good for you," was the only thing spoken as he walked out of the store, throwing her the pack with whatever weak muscles he had.
"Nothing's good for you."
"Do I at least get a thanks?"
The air in his lungs was pulled out of him as he reeled over, not expecting a punch in the stomach. He cursed loudly as she walked away, hips swiveling, hand reaching for the lighter in one of her spider printed back pockets. He didn't even take the time to recover, getting into the car before any more of his dignity was lost.
"Who was that?" his brother remarked slyly, grin wide.
"None a your business," he said, throwing the bag in the backseat.
"Guess you're not so gay after all."
Cronus only laughed at Eridan's attempt to punch him and aggressively red face.