a region of chaos and moonlight

who  :  riley halstead  +  open. where  :  music shop.

There were many things Alison could complain about. Ironically enough, coming from the most active anticapitalist person to have ever walked through the Australian streets, work wasn't one of them. It felt more like leisure, a sweet treat for a sore tooth, a pause from the other world in a safe out-of-reality space where she was in charge of the soundtrack. Or heaven to word it differently. On the best days, customer interaction was reduced to a minimum, if not entirely nulled, and she could focus on much more gratifying, mind-stimulating tasks such as alphabetically organizing the records, which was precisely why she immediately gave her availability for the shift. "Yeah, smooth recovery Riley. I totally wouldn't have been able to tell you were distracted if it wasn't for the fact that you looked --- completely out of it." she grinned teasingly, chewing on a toasted almond whose pack she held in her hand. Alison shifted behind the counter with an eagerness linked to the curiosity to peek at what her coworker was reading, but when her eyes were met with nothing but an ordinary textbook, she huffed disappointed, slanting against the surface. "I really hoped it was going to be one of those fucking nasty 'romance' books that are really just for people who think they're too good for porn."

Location: the park Status: open

He wasn't sure how he had arrived at the park. He remembered waking up grimacing as the sun perfectly hit his left eye and his body activating on its own, following the post-party routine he had meticulously perfected over the years to minimize the after-effects. Still, it all felt closer to teleportation from the bed straight to the bench than a proper walk; if he tried his best to focus, he could see himself stumbling through the streets, clumsily swerving through the crowds, resembling an unstable zombie with decaying legs. Asher had no headphones in, but somehow, the haze in his brain created a sort of white noise that perfectly encapsulated him, keeping him separated from the rest and turning any kind of voice into a confused mumble. It wasn't disinterest that caused him to miss the other's words, rather simple alienation. He held one finger up as an invitation to wait. Slender hand slithered into the side pocket of his pants and came out with a sketchbook and a pen that he opened by popping the cap in his mouth, now hostage between his teeth. A few quick and precise lines gave life to a cartoonish, caricature-like doodle of his newfound muse that now lived on the angle of a page garnished with similar drawings. He held it up for the other to see. "This is you," he muffled.