TIMING: 24th of September LOCATION: The Vinyl Countdown PARTIES: Mateo and Eli @fearhims3lf SUMMARY: Elijah walks in looking for new records and is confronted to someone he can't easily get a read on. Mateo tries to make a sale and more. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a
Nausea and a headache that was akin to having a jackhammer beating against a skull plagued Mateo. His night of shenanigans caught up with him, and he was suffering. All he wanted to do was lay in bed, but he had promised to take another shift at the Vinyl Countdown, and he was a man of his word. Grumbling, he laid his head on the register counter and rose it weakly when a few customers walked in. He greeted them promptly and let them know to request help if they needed it, retreating for a moment when he felt the urge for a smoke. There wasn’t going to be a rush for another hour or two, so he figured he’d be in the clear if he just walked away for a few minutes.
Finding himself outside, Mateo pulled out a cigarette and held it between his lips as he sparked his lighter to life. With one big inhale, the crisp sound of tobacco igniting was a relief, making his shoulders sink. A sense of solace washed over him, increasing as he continued to inhale and exhale. He let his head lean back against the wall as he watched passersby go about their day. In a matter of minutes, Mateo was down to the filter and about to light another stogee until he saw the time. “Shit.” He blinked, groaning to himself when he realized he didn’t have time to, quickly making his way back to the counter.
Even with the stench of the mines having already done their job on his nose, he could catch the scent of cigarettes coming from the employee. Problem was, this was about the only thing he could feel coming his way. That was uncommon, though it was not the first time this had occurred to Henri. Elijah shifted to put down the records in his hand onto the counter. You could find some classic names in there : Mötley Crüe, Blondie and Bowie. But, that wasn’t exactly how you got people chatting.
“Smoke break, huh?” He ticked his tongue, clearly disapproving. Nevermind that he worked in a mine or that he was a smoker himself. Slipping his hand in his back pocket, he turned around to look at the rest of the store. “I was wondering if you maybe had suggestions for me. I was gonna get these, but I’d also love to broaden my horizons.” Rubbing his hand against his stubble, the miner smiled, “unless you’d rather go back on a smoke break, of course.” He looked amused by his own bullshit, which was, he supposed, enough for now.
The comment sounded just snide enough for Mateo to narrow his eyes at the customer. Sure, he had a job to do, but there was something about getting a condescending remark that always made Mateo want to bite. “Yeah. Smoke break.” He said flatly, clenching his fist open and closed a few times before composing himself enough to lay on the charm.
Nevermind the idiot—who was actually annoyingly attractive—getting a sale would put the mare in a better mood. Bonus points if he could finagle his way to getting the guy in the back room. Mateo had done that a few times, unbeknownst to Leticia. His sales tactics were a little unorthodox, but he was the best salesman by far. He just had to ignore yet another comment.
“If you’re looking for some boring classics, these are definitely the way to go. I mean, they ain’t bad, but they’re so overplayed, man.” Mateo leaned over the counter, a shit-eating grin on his face just charming enough to complement his flirtatious eyes. “Lemme show you some real music over here.” Waving the man to follow, Mateo circled around the counter to go straight to the section he curated himself. He pulled out his first recommendation, holding it reverently before presenting it. “Behold, Dead Kennedys. Nothing says ‘anti-authority through the use of creative thinking’ like these guys.”
"That's a terrible habit to have," Elijah wasn't precisely rude, if you referred to the thick folder Henri had left in his DC apartment, detailing all the quirks and habits, all the personal history of his charming, loveable boy next door. No, Elijah wasn't rude, but he knew how to get someone's attention. Attention was attention, negative or not. His lips curled up, and he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, the picture of bashfulness.
"Anyhow, I didn't come here to comment on that." He must have struck a nerve, or maybe played his cards right. He couldn't recall a salesman ever calling his choices and tastes boring, even if they, like today, were very much so. "Pretty basic heh?" He couldn't disagree on that, but those were classics for a good reason. History remembered only the best and worst, never what was in between. "Real music heh?" He pursed his lips. "Alright, I'll bite. As long as you don't whip out Now that's what I call music Volume 3," Elijah joked, following behind the guy.
As a first album was presented to him, Henri had to do his best not to break character. Oh the fucking irony of picking this for a federal agent. Beautiful. Yeah, that sure cracked him up, but Elijah contemplated the cover with a look of puzzlement. Burning cars. Intriguing. "Are you saying I should loosen up a bit," he inquired, his hand held up to validate his first choice. "Keep going. What other non basic classics have you got in store?"
Mateo’s jaw slightly dropped at the horrid idea of suggesting Now That’s What I Call Music. The audacity! The blasphemy! The mockery! The mare sucked his teeth and rolled his shoulders to relax. He was getting a little too worked up for no reason. Well, maybe not for no reason. Men like this guy, the ones who were just as annoying as Mateo, were a bit of a special interest. The likes of which he took to finding himself on top—in more ways than one.
“No biting. Not yet,” He quipped, sticking out his tongue playfully as he handed over the record and rubbed his hands together deviously. When Mateo reached the section he was looking for, he made devil horns with both hands. His sign of success. “I say you should definitely loosen up a bit. And you do that…” Mateo began to drum quickly on the cabinet before tapping on the album cover of his choice. “With Bad Brains.” He plucked the album from its place and offered it over. It was the right call, and he knew it.
“You got hits like Sailin’ On, The Regulator, and Leaving Babylon. Truly some of the best shit to headbang to.” Nodding his head side to side, Mateo clicked his tongue, “Well, among other kinds of banging too.”
Elijah chuckled at the offended air on the salesman’s face. Yes, he was aiming at this. “Sensitive subject. Noted,” with a slight final snort, he fell quiet to listen to the other describe what he had in store for him. Both musically or not, apparently. Arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows raised comically as if to say I’m listening, he granted the other a cheeky smile, holding out his hand, at last to take a look at that new album.
Alright. They really were going for punk classics, heh. Henri wasn’t precisely a great fan, and would have sooner walked a bit further to look at hard rock and metal records. He enjoyed a bit of everything, with a definite guilty pleasure found in Disco music which he would most likely deny. Elijah’s was Celine Dion. Everyone had one. He wondered what this guy’s secretive favorite was. Dolly? Cher? Now That’s What I Call Music ? The thought almost made him break character and he cleared his throat, apparently in response to that unhinged innuendo.
“Sorry, I went elsewhere for a second,” pause, “you were saying?” Oh that was plain evil. You didn’t make people repeat that kinda shit. With a perfectly innocent look on his face, he returned his attention back to the record.
“For any true music lover, yeah, sensitive subject. I’d rather listen to Never Gonna Give You Up on loop for twenty-four hours straight.” Leticia had almost done just that, torturing Mateo his entire shift. It was agony, listening to those damn electric drums bumping the speakers in the pattern everyone knew. He groaned just thinking about it, groaned even more at the way the man next to him wasn’t listening. No matter. He wasn’t going to repeat himself.
Just make the sale.
“Now, if you want shitty music—the overplayed bullshit—you go to those damn compilation cds made by those big wig corporation dumbos that don’t know shit about music.” With a smile, Mateo threw an arm around the customer’s shoulder, shaking him playfully and nudging him toward the record. “But if you want to rock out and get off on anti-authority—which is a favorite thing of mine—you get this!”
Mateo backed away to give the guy room to think, crossing his arms and biting his lip. “Could show you how good it is, honestly. These speakers got great balance that fills the room. Blasts through any door or wall. You know, besides the soundproof room. It’s impressive. Like me.”
"That bad, huh," he had never owned one of those compilations. They very much felt like : here is what you should listen to. We hope you enjoy our bland soup. That song, however. One of his exes loved that shit. He didn't get it, but that also meant that he now knew each damn word of it. "I might have not listened to it 24 hours in a row, I think I've suffered my fair share already with that song," the other option would be as if he was listening to nothing. Tempting. When did he ever get that chance? He was always tuned on radio emotion. Except for now. It was just them, and the other was silent. That was a relief even if it threw him off a little. This wasn't the norm.
Even as he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, Elijah felt nothing. He turned to look at the guy. Alright, maybe he shouldn't have been an arse to him. He seemed nice. A different approach might be best, then. "Got a…" he trailed off. Lot on his mind. It was hard to keep the long face with that sort of energy thrown in your face anyway. He returned the smile, at last, and with a reluctant roll of his eyes, took the record in his hands as if to give in to the other's nagging. Didn't take much convincing, did he?
"You could show me?" Even Henri had to admit to being a bit lost here, until he wasn't. "Alright, we've established that you are convincing, but if you want me to believe either of those are impressive," he gave the other a look, swaying the record between his hands as if to invite him to snatch it out of them, “well, I’m gonna need proof.”
“Listen, my guy, I get tortured with that song weekly. My boss hates my guts for some reason.” Mateo winked, “Probably because I outsell her and she owns the place.” A shit-eating grin pulled his cheeks up and he let out a chuckle as he leaned against a rack of vinyls. Confidence was mounting over, spilling off of Mateo’s shoulders with the cross of his arms. The man had taken the record, no argument or hint of rejection given. As per usual.
What could Mateo say? He was good at his job.
“You need proof? I can show you proof. That’ll be no problem.” The mare snatched the record away, teasingly holding it just out of reach as he leaned into just so. “Hope you’re ready. Sailin’ On is a great opener for an album.” Mateo moved to the record player connected to the store’s speakers, continuing his speech. “Fast-paced, and not too long. Flows right into another fast song. You know, keeps the speed going.” With a smile, Mateo placed the record into place, moving the needle over to spark the music to life.
The quick taps of the drummer’s signal went off, the rest of the band crashing through and sending the notes thrumming across the walls and floor. Mateo sauntered back over to his customer, placing a friendly hand to his shoulder as he cocked his head back slightly. “So, what do you think? Great pace to bang to, you know?” Innuendo intended. Made even more obvious as Mateo’s eyes glided over the man’s lips. “Name’s Mateo, by the way.”
“If your boss hates you for doing a great job, that..." He paused, to absent-mindedly look up at the ceiling. Yeah, that didn't sound like a great boss. If the Never Gonna Give You Up on a loop wasn't enough to convince anyone of quitting, the owner really needed to sort out her issues with being outperformed. "Bit of an over achiever, are we?" That wasn't precisely what he'd define as punk. That guy could have told him he was pro anarchy and Eli wouldn't have been shocked at all, after all, but... he seemed to be prideful, and all too smug about his ability to nudge anyone into going his way.
The empath liked to bring those types down a peg or two, but this one right here... He couldn't feel a thing and when there was nothing to feel, there were no feelings to manipulate either.
It was distracting. Usually, Elijah was bothered with having to deal with other people's emotions colliding with his own. Receiving absolutely nothing was just as unnerving, but the shop keeper had enough energy to keep anyone focused on him and without much else to do than to nod along, the federal agent's shoulders relaxed.
He rested his weight against one of the racks and looking up at the talkative guy, awarded him a smile, one tainted with bashful tenderness as he seemingly finally caught on those innuendos. "Elijah." Pause. "I'm new in town," which he supposed could mean anything. Just passing by, or here to settle down. "Feel free to lie to me, but you're not this friendly with all your customers? Cause if not, I wouldn't be opposed to getting further acquainted." His eyebrows raised and he reached over to put his hand over Mateo's.
Mateo took the hand over his as a victory, his smile curling further before he licked his lips. “Listen, I’m exceptionally nice to all my customers, it’s how I make the most sales.” Leaning closer, the mare slipped his hand over Elijah’s and let them fall to their waists, lacing their fingers together. Mateo didn’t particularly like lying, but some moments called for it. A twist of the truth here and there, to spare some feelings or even someone’s ego. That didn’t seem the case at the moment, though. No, Mateo thought it to be more of a case of genuine interest and slight reservation at the clerk’s flirtations.
It was cute. Really cute. Too cute to sway the truth or manipulate or deceive. At least, not in a way that wouldn’t cause actual guilt in Mateo’s gut. “I see someone I like and I go for it, usually. In and out.” He shrugged, rubbing his neck with his free hand. Now he was the bashful one. Jesus, working with Leti had made him soft. “But let me grab you some dinner, huh? We’re close enough to shutting down. I don’t think la jefa will even notice.” She would, though. She always did. But the risk seemed worth it. For the reward, Mateo told himself. “Come on.” He waved for Elijah to follow. “Maybe if you’re up to it, you can try out the amazing music I picked out for you.”
