@ameriicangraffiti
stella’s been sitting around the thrift shop on an old couch that smells vaguely of smoke and some other odor she prefers not to identify ( but she’s fairly certain it may be cat piss ). every time the bell rings above the door, she enthusistically glances up from her cellphone. too many times has it been someone other than rusty, until eventually—and inevitably—it is. “ hey! ” she says as she pushes herself off the couch to greet the girl. “ i’ve skimmed through the shop a bit to see if there’s anything worth buying, but i honestly have no idea what i’m even looking for. ” with a shrug, she props her elbow on a rack of old graphic t-shirts. “ although, i think there are a few interesting pieces in the men’s costumes. we might be able to figure something out. ”
