Got a Light?
SETTING: Outside Echo
TIMING: Before the Magic Came Back
PARTIES: @theo-wallace & @echoingmuse
WARNINGS: Parental Death tw
SUMMARY: Theo shares a cigarette with Cleo outside of Echo
Today was a steady day. Cleo felt that her glamour was sturdy, that she might be able to a front facing day at the shop rather than delegate it to Rory or Jordan and hide in the back. But today was also a slow day, and even though her glamour was holding up, Cleo was still left with the dregs of grief that seemed to always remain in her coffee cup of life. A poor metaphor, but she was all out of poetic waxing for at least the next few years.
And so she’d ventured outside, sitting on the windowsill in front of her shop. The sun was nice today. The weather still remained cold, as it was prone to do in this area of the world, but she was glad for the rays that went unbroken by clouds. Cleo had her eyes closed, the melody from the record playing inside the store reaching her even as she sat outside, and for a moment she almost felt like she was okay. There was almost a possibility to wax poetic about the loss that had settled in her chest, but she was not quite there yet. She wanted to honor Oliver with some kind of art, preferably of the written variety, but so far his death had only inspired sullenness.
At least the sun still shone. Even if he was not there to enjoy those early spring rays. Cleo dug in her jacket pocket and produced a pack of smokes and her lighter — an old, nostalgic thing. She lit the cigarette, knowing it was poor advertising for her shop but not quite having the energy to care. She watched the smoke curl up and away, and as she followed it her eyes fell on a bypasser, who was holding his own pack of cigarettes. “Good afternoon.”
—-
If there was one thing about Wicked that Theo enjoyed, it was the fact that the vibe of the area never really changed, no matter if you were in the city proper or the areas around it. It was relaxed, but with an undercurrent of tension. As if they all knew that there was a chance of something lurking nearby, but a defiant refusal to run away from whatever that possibility might be.
There was a chill in the air as Theo walked quickly through the city streets. Technically, he was running a little late to a meeting with a potential source. They had been a bit fidgety on the phone, and he wasn’t even sure they would end up meeting in person, but whoever it was had made it clear in no uncertain terms that what they needed to talk about couldn’t be handled over the phone. They had said that they needed to show Theo. There was always a chance it would prove useless, but Theo was never going to turn down a potential story.
He was just pulling out his packet of cigarettes, wanting to get a quick smoke in before he ended up at his destination, when a woman’s voice snagged his attention. Theo paused, gaze moving from the woman to her lit cigarette. An opening. Random connections could be a journalist's best friend. “Afternoon,” He replied. “Could I grab a light off of you? I just realized I left my lighter on my kitchen table.” Theo asked with a small smile, knowing full well that his own lighter was tucked away in his bag.
—
It was a good thing that the passerby was a smoker too, she realized. Echo was doing well enough, but she certainly could not afford warding off customers with cigarette smoke. And yet here she stood, giving into the vice as sometimes desire weighed stronger than common sense. Cleo did not often indulge, preferred self-flagellation and abstinence to keep her wants under wraps, but a cigarette was such a small thing. It mattered little.
She smiled at the other and nodded, digging into the pocket on her leather belt, producing a vintage lighter that she held out. There was something so fun about this human dance, she thought. The social construct that came with smoking. Escaping a hazy, loud party to stand on the outside together. Exchanging a lighter, or even lending someone a cigarette that would never be repaid. Cleo enjoyed it for its simplicity.
“Here you go,” she said as he took the lighter. “Happens to the best of us.” It was a half-lie, a white one. Cleo did not lose her lighters because she cherished them. The one she had just extended had been with her for decades. When she had bought it first, it had not been vintage, but over the years it had gotten its status. “Are you in much of a hurry, then?”
—-
“Thanks,” Theo said as he took the lighter. He ran his thumb over it, eyebrow raised. It was a neat lighter, not the type you would get for five bucks at the convenience store. “Where’d you pick this up?” He asked as he placed the cigarette between his teeth. Theo fiddled with the lighter for a moment before a flame appeared, then brought it to his cigarette, his free hand coming up to protect it from the wind. Once the end of the cigarette went from white to a glowing red, he let the flame retreat to its holding cell. There was a hint of warmth in the lighter itself, and as he handed it back to the woman, he inhaled the sweet taste of nicotine before exhaling the smoke from the corner of his mouth.
“A bit,” Theo said, shrugging as he took the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it between his two fingers and tapping it to let some of the ash fall. “Not enough of a rush to not stand here and finish this cigarette, though.” He added with a wink and a small smile.
“Do you work at the record store?” Theo asked, motioning to the building behind them as he took another drag of the cigarette before breathing the smoke upwards. He had wandered in a few weeks ago, but was pretty sure he hadn’t seen her. He hadn’t ended up getting anything that time; mostly showing up because he had felt the faintest pulse of fae, but hadn’t been able to find anything concrete once he had crossed the doorway. Theo was almost convinced that the thing that had been alerting him was actually elsewhere, and he had simply followed the wrong path. “Got any recommendations on what I should get next time I go in?” He asked, figuring that even if she didn’t work there, she might still have some music recommendations.
—
Cleo had been backed into a corner now. Whether it was by her own actions or the others did not matter — she had to lie or choose for vagueness, neither of which were her preferred way of communication. She would prefer to tell the story of getting the lighter, even if memory often proved to depress her. “I bought it a while back,” she said, the term ‘a while’ relative enough that her gut did not twist with dishonesty. “It’s quite old by now.” She took the lighter back, rubbing it with affection for a moment for letting it disappear. “Better than a Bic, I always say. I prefer refilling over buying new plastic scrap.”
She chuckled, “I suppose when you’ve got the habit, you always find a way to make time for a cigarette, hm?” It was a vice she had long ago grown accustomed to and Cleo only ever thought about quitting in a fantasy where she was a woman in charge of her desires and needs. And that was just that: a fantasy, far removed from possible reality.
“Oh, yes. I run it, actually,” she said, not hiding the fact that she was proud of it. “I have been since the fall of last year, so it’s not been that long. Whoever ran it before … is long gone, I’m afraid.” The missing-person case that had left the shop unattended and just another source of mystery in town until his body had been found. In three pieces, nonetheless. She pushed that miserable fact aside, focusing on her favorite kind of questions. “I have plenty. I could just recommend what I’ve been listening to, but I like to be more personal with my recommendations. What do you like to listen to usually?”
—-
Theo hummed in acknowledgement, “Oh, cool.” He said before he nodded, “Definitely, plus, you get to tell a story every time you bring it out.” Probably a better story than simply being drunk in a city and stumbling into a convenience store, which is how Theo tended to come across his lighters. Though he also wasn’t sure if he would even want to use a special lighter, especially when his belongings sometimes ended up destroyed. It made him less inclined to bring objects of significance out of his place.
He snapped his fingers. “Exactly!” It was a habit born out of being around smokers. Theo was pretty sure his father had smoked, though he had always been relegated to having to smoke outside per his mother’s rules. Which meant Theo only had faded, blurry memories of peeking out the window in his bedroom, barely able to see even on his tiptoes, and seeing his father smoke in the backyard after returning from a trip. Even then, his father had stopped smoking a few years before he died. He had never mentioned why, but Theo had heard him speak in low tones to his mother about how he couldn’t stand the scent of smoke anymore. Theo’s first cigarette had been at his funeral, given to him by his grandfather as he stood in the circle with the other males of the family, the consensus being that any tears that were present in their eyes came from the cigarettes. The cigarette had tasted awful, and it had put Theo off having another one until he was almost 16 and was offered one during a hunting trip with his Uncle. The rest was history.
Theo’s eyebrows flew upwards. “Oh! Awesome!” That was good to know. “Ah, well, I’ve only heard good things; so it seems like you’ve been doing a great job so far.” Theo grinned as he took another drag of the cigarette, blowing it out slowly. “Hmm, unfortunately, I’m pretty basic when it comes to my listening habits. Early 2000s alt-pop is a favorite of mine, same with… like… soundtracks from movies? When they're instrumental.” Theo explained. “For current music, I’m not really a fan of something like techno, but as long as it has a good beat, then I’m happy.”
—
“Perhaps I should embellish it, or lie altogether. Say that it belonged to some long-dead Hollywood or rockstar, really draw people in with it,” she said, smiling a little. She wouldn’t, as lies ached and white lies to sound more interesting were not worth the trouble. “But ah, I guess a good vintage score is a good story to tell, too. You really have to get lucky with them.” Cleo quickly stopped herself from saying any more, as the lighter had not been a vintage score at the time of purchase.
“I guess … awesome is a way to describe it. It’s a funny thing, buying a shop that became available only because some ill fate befell its owner, but I guess the discomfort with his death is more for his family and not for me.” Cleo reflected with bitter irony that the other time she had come into ownership of a store was because the owner had died, too. Should she ensure there was someone in her will who could take over her shops? Or should she let fate take hold of it? She took a drag from her cigarette and exhaled slowly to regain the thread of conversation. “But yes, awesome is what my store is.” She did not sound entirely convinced, even though she was. Thoughts of dead just tended to affect her tone.
She took another drag as she pondered the other’s taste. “If you want to go more modern but similar sound … have you listened to Fontaines DC? And maybe Snail Mail?” She tried to think of movie soundtracks, not often listening to them by themselves. “I thought One Battle After Another had an amazing soundtrack, though I’m not sure if it’d be any good to put on for a relaxing afternoon. Very much one that works well with the material. I do have some instrumentals of course. Maybe you would like Hinako Omori, though.”
—-
Theo laughed, “Exactly! Especially if you’re only ever meeting them once, what’s so wrong about a white lie or two?” He teased. “You could probably get people to buy more records if you throw a name or two around. Do some low-level thought manipulation.” Theo joked before he nodded. “Yeah, for sure. When you land something cool like that, you have to hold onto it.” It was why he understood (and sometimes indulged himself in) the craze behind thrift stores. There was just something about digging through old and forgotten mementos of other people’s lives until you found something genuinely interesting.
Theo blinked at her explanation. “Huh, well…” He trails off, tapping his cigarette to knock some of the ash off. He glanced up at the store itself again. “Fate can be weird like that. If you hadn’t gotten it, someone else would have. If his family wanted it, they would have taken it before you ever had the chance.” He added with a shrug. He wondered how often it was that business owners disappeared/died in Wicked. Probably higher than normal, right? Maybe he’d do some research on that at some point. “You ended up with it; might as well make the most of it.”
He pulled out his phone, placing his cigarette in his mouth to have two free hands. Theo pulled up his notes app and threw in the recommendations. The time at the top of his phone caught his attention. He had definitely moved from ‘a little late’ to ‘very late’ for his meeting. “Some of those sound familiar, so I’ll be sure to check them out.” He said as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. Theo inhaled the last of his cigarette before dropping it and stepping on it to put it out, blowing the smoke out of his nose as he did. “Anyway, I have to run. But it was lovely meeting you. I’m sure you’ll see me again as a patron very soon.” Theo grinned before raising his hand as a farewell and continuing down the street.
—
Cleo felt offense rise in her throat. Though she found her being limited to speaking mostly the truth vexing at times, she honored it and thought the fact that humans could lie without immediate consequence a natural offense. This one spoke of it like a joke that sure, she may have encouraged, but that should not be laughed about. “I would never lie to sell more records,” she said swiftly, to help that idea out of the world. Of course, if she were to namedrop some rockstar names, she wouldn’t necessarily have to be lying, but she did not want to be thought of as a liar, either.
She nodded, “I assume they did not want it, otherwise it would not have gone up for sale, but I’m not one to dive into people’s family like that – especially when dead. Though I am glad I got to have the chance to keep the shop up, of course.” Echo was just a means to an end, a way for her to spend time and fill her days with music related activity. The alternative would be growing reclusive again, as she had plenty of times these past years. Cleo was trying to do better. As the other noted her recommendations, she smiled, even if he used a digital means to do so over an analogue one. Her smile faded when the other put out his cigarette in front of her store, her eyes glued to the trash he’d left there. She looked up in time to see him raising his hand and grinning. “Please do try to use a trashcan whenever you come back,” she snipped, not wanting to lose a potential customer but unwavering in her determination to voice her disapproval. Cleo bend over to pick the butt from the ground, her face a grimace. She hoped, at the very least, that her music recommendations would do something good.
