Always Happy To Serve [closed; tag Mia]

[Michael Wakefield]

The part of town he had chosen to ‘set up shop’ wasn’t exactly deserted, but secluded enough that no-one would notice what he was up to. Isis, the long-haired Weimaraner dog, yawned widely as she slumped by his side, clearly bored out of her little doggy skull. Chuckling, he bent over slightly and scratched her behind the ears. The key, of course, was patience, and unlike himself his darling pet had none. He could have sworn that she was more like a human child than a dog, stretching out on the ground and making a fuss when she wanted some excitement.

Perhaps unfortunately, he couldn’t always guarantee excitement, with transactions always going fairly smoothly and very few people ever questioning the mysterious plastic packets of multicoloured dust and where said dust came from. Amusingly enough, even fewer changed their minds upon discovery of the origin of the dust. He had only been at it regularly for a week or two, and already he was beginning to recognise clients. A good sign, maybe?

Whenever someone walked by, Isis stood at attention, sometimes pointing as though she really wanted to go fetch the intruders. A gentle touch of her head let her know they weren’t hunting anything, and she would sit down again, sniffing around for interesting little animals to chase or disturb.

Business that evening, however, was painfully slow, and a few times he toyed with the idea of sending the dog after pedestrians in order to drag them back to him. He was fairly sure he could easily convince anyone to at least give it a try. Already weary, he was just about ready to go somewhere else or return to his home when Isis growled softly. A new customer, perhaps?

note - this is so lame I am sorry

[Mia Keystone]

"What's with the dog?" Mia scowled, looking at the animal with distaste. It was almost as big as she was, but the technopath was in no mood to be intimidated by a fleshy thing with fur. Crossing her arms, she took another few steps into the side street and glanced at the man in mild amusement lightly salted by disbelieve. Her converses had't made much noise over the pavement; if there was one thing she could handle in the real world, it was sneaking around, and even and old dealer needed to be treated, if not with caution, then like a potential danger.

"Jerome didn't tell me his grandpa was the new peddler," she muttered, loud enough for the impertinent remark to carry to the old man's ears. "Everyone's dry, but apparently you've got something new. Seriously though Pops," Her eyes narrowed as she took in the dog, "Am I being played? This some sort of joke?"

It wasn't like she'd usually go see someone new without checking them out first. Surveillance, a background search, observing people on whatever it was he was selling... but she was getting more then a little desperate. There was nothing, no uppers, no downers, no pot, no snow, no nothing and if she didn't get something to take her mind off the monotony and frustration of having to interact with so many organics she was going to loose her mind.

Tapping one foot as her leg jittered with impatience. "What're you selling?" she asked finally. "We talking amphetamines, psychedelics, pills, powers," While the short girl had never been addicted to anything in her life (except maybe World of Warcraft and she'd kicked that habit), the picture she painted was someone who was desperately in need of a fix. Or fixing.

[Michael Wakefield]

As the girl spoke, Isis growled louder, her hackles raised in distrust. The stranger must have given the animal intensely negative vibes. She looked as though she was ready to pounce, but her owner knew she wouldn't. For a Weimaraner, she was very well trained, unlike many boisterous, disobedient dogs. It took a special owner to care for the breed, and Michael considered himself to be one of those special types. Leaning over a little on his cane, he touched the dog's ear, which hushed her slightly. Yes, she was very well trained. She knew as well as her master did that this girl was most definitely arrogant and naive. If it weren't for her utter disrespect, he may have taken a shine to her. As it was, she turned out to be just another potential idiot client.

"You have a problem with Isis?" he said, though it wasn't really a question and nor did he care for the answer. "At least she knows when to hold her tongue." Looking the girl up and down in a very obvious manner, he raised a brow at her. "You know, I could ask you the same question. I don't usually deal with children." And he really didn't want to start. Still, maybe it would sicken her. Maybe she'd lose her voice. Goodness, the world could only hope.

Still... it had been awfully quiet. And money was still money, no matter what the source. Folding his arms, an elbow propping him up on the walking stick, he looked straight into her eyes and managed a vaguely neutral expression.

"It's... more of a psychedelic dust." He still wasn't eager to even show her, she looked so young. Yes, his moral code was somewhat... twisted, but there was still some tiny smidge of morality in there. Even through that little smidge, though, he had to smile. The state she was in... well, it didn't seem as though this one would be difficult at all.

[Mia Keystone]

”I’m splitting my sides,” the technopath said dryly in response to his comment about the dog. Being an extremely non intimidating five feet tall, and possessing the features of a six year old, Mia was used to people thinking she was young. Well, younger then her 17 years. It was easy to recognize the look, as he glanced up and down. ”I’m not a child,” she spat, glaring up at the old man. ”So don’t pull a skinny on me, mate.”

As if in warning, the electronics in within a meter radius started vibrating. He was a dealer, he had to have a phone. She’d show him she wasn’t someone to dismiss.

A psychedelic was not ideal, not when she wanted to zone out completely, but it would do. It wasn’t like she was going to try heroin or any of the more intense depressants, and even if she did, the technopath strongly doubted that she’d find any in a town as quiet as Pilot ridge. That being said, she’d never heard of psychedelic dust before, and her naturally heightened suspicions were aroused. ”What’s the compound?” she demanded, but not too rudely. She did want to make a sale after all. ”Chemical or natural? Can you show me?”

Not one for being able to fake expression, or show something she didn’t feel, Mia could not help but look at him with a mixture of fury and desperation. ”How much per half ounce? How long does it last? You can’t try and sell an unknown without telling me what I’m in for. I’d rather not end up in hospital, thanks.”

[Michael Wakefield]

"I beg to differ," he murmured, shifting his weight so that the pain in his back just might ease up a little. "You certainly look young." Quite suddenly, the watch on his wrist and the ancient mobile phone in his coat pocket vibrated in unison. So she was powered, was she? Raising an eyebrow almost in disbelief, he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and walk away. She may have been young but he did want to make those changes to his new garden. "I'm shaking, little one. Perhaps unfortunately for you I don't have a pacemaker and losing my phone is the least of my worries."

For someone so clearly desperate, she sure asked a lot of questions. Still, it was clever of her to do so. If she was going to do something as stupid as this she may as well be marginally safe at least. The corners of his mouth lifted into the tiniest smile, and he outstretched his hand, generating a light film of dust. "Completely natural, but very potent in small doses."

Oh dear. Was the little girl getting frustrated now? "Hmm. Twenty-five dollars. The dust itself is fairly light so you're getting quite a lot for that. As I recall, the effects last about two hours at best. You can take it however you like because, quite honestly, as far as I can tell the effect is always the same. Well... not the hallucinations. That all depends on your state of mind. No-one I've ever sold it to has ended up in hospital, either. Only those I attacked with it." Reaching down to scratch Isis behind her ears, he sighed. "The only reason you're still standing here is because you're curious and you're desperate. Don't waste our time, madame. Take it or don't."

[Mia Keystone]

"I know," Mia muttered, rubbing her childish face in frustration. "Its an Asian thing, ok?" It wasn't enough she had to be the hight of your average oompa lompa, oh no, she also had to have the face of one of those creepy china dolls your grandma gave you that keeps you up at night. Her nan pinched her cheeks more times then she could count. "Stop calling me little one, it's creepy."

Dust.... probably best to snort it then; that always seemed to work best with pills. Blood stream and all that. "I don't want the horrors" she said warily, pulling out one of her wallets. "I'm not desperate, ok? I'm not going through withdrawals and if I was it would not be for something like pixie dust!" Brushing a hand through her hair, her teeth gnawed at her piecing. Ok, so maybe she looked a little desperate. "Two ounces," she managed. "So, thats a hundred, right? I have the cash."

[Michael Wakefield]

"Is it now?" It wasn't really a question. Actually, by this point he was no longer interested in her age. Or her attitude. Whoever brought her up to make stupid decisions and disrespect people much, much more powerful than she could ever hope to be deserved a good beating with his cane, but that wasn't his problem. Smirking, he nodded. "My apologies. I suppose petite and Kleine are also out of the question, then." Perhaps the sneering response was a little below his own level, and it wasn't ever wise to wind up a client, especially not one as needy as she was, but for some reason, he just couldn't help himself. Perhaps because it was just so easy.

Straightening up as well as he was able, he watched as she pulled out a wallet and insisted that she wasn't desperate, though her body language told another story. Did she think he was blind? She almost definitely thought he was stupid, but he suspected that a powered girl of her probable age group and with her attitude thought that near enough everyone was stupid.

"Oh no of course not," he said softly, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. "But if you don't want it, you don't have to stick around." As soon as he'd suggested it, however, she managed to choke out the amount she wanted. Oh no, not desperate at all. Silly girl. "Show me the cash, then." Holding up a couple of plastic bags filled with the light dust, he lightly stroked his Weimaraner's head as she stood at attention, as though she might have to defend her master from this unruly creature. "Down, Isis," he whispered.