Myles laughed a little bit at "Stan", despite himself. He didn't need to turn around to guess at the look on Madison's face; they had moved in the same circles for long enough. She might be putting up a good face since she was at work, but Madison was never stable for too long.
"Well if you really don't mind, I'm perfectly happy to help myself." Myles picked up the box. It was weighed down with the clothes inside, but not so much as to be unmanageable. Asking Tristan to carry it for him would be a step too far.
Speaking of which...
Myles heaved a sigh that was more for show than anything and nudged Tristan. "Okay, as much as I hate it, why don't you buy the other shirt too? Make sure Madison gets a nice sales commission or whatever since she did this for us and I'm running off with all this for free."
He turned and shot Madison a polite smile. Maybe that would keep a lid on things for a little while longer.
"Oh, and I'm totally down to go back to your place and dig through this mess. Odds are, most of it will be more your speed than mine." He couldn't resist a little verbal jab after all. Tristan usually took it well. Unlike some people.
Speaking of which, it was about time to skedaddle before Mt. Madison decided to erupt and wipe out the innocent villagers on her unsuspecting slopes. Myles didn't really care about what might happen in the store after he and Tristan left, but it wasn't unlikely that some sort of fiery tragedy would happen in their wake.
He didn't wait for further invitation before heading for the door back out to the front of the shop.
Let Me Borrow That Top
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
It was painfully obvious to Madison that she was solely responsible for souring an otherwise pleasant experience and that only served to fuel her annoyance. There was a part of her that wanted to pretend like she didn't care; that there was no sting when Myles passed over her to invite Tristan to his house afterwards, nor did it bother her when Tristan sarcastically remarked that she was far too kind in a manner she'd only heard from catty gay men on reality TV when her joke fell flat. But that wasn't the case. She wasn't blind to the person she was, wasn't deaf to the persona she'd cultivated for herself. She understood, maybe more than anyone else would possibly be able to, and knew that if given the choice she wouldn't be friends with herself either.
That didn't mean it didn't hurt all the same.
And maybe that's why she'd grabbed the shirt from Tristan's hands with a little more force than she'd expected, along with the other one he'd been eyeing from the table before following Myles back out to the sales floor where he was waiting by the cash register with his box.
She was stone faced when Tristan emerged, her anger at the situation and the boys and herself carved into her features as she bagged up the shirts for Tristan, not bothering to fold them and spend anymore time than necessary. Handing the bag back to him, she just as quickly pulled out her phone and retreated into her typical slouch over the counter as she feigned disinterest, not wanting to look at them and imagine what they thought of her or think about what they'd say about her once they left the store.
It didn't matter, she told herself.
"On the house," There wasn't an ounce of warmth in her voice. "Have fun sorting through that box."
But it did.
That didn't mean it didn't hurt all the same.
And maybe that's why she'd grabbed the shirt from Tristan's hands with a little more force than she'd expected, along with the other one he'd been eyeing from the table before following Myles back out to the sales floor where he was waiting by the cash register with his box.
She was stone faced when Tristan emerged, her anger at the situation and the boys and herself carved into her features as she bagged up the shirts for Tristan, not bothering to fold them and spend anymore time than necessary. Handing the bag back to him, she just as quickly pulled out her phone and retreated into her typical slouch over the counter as she feigned disinterest, not wanting to look at them and imagine what they thought of her or think about what they'd say about her once they left the store.
It didn't matter, she told herself.
"On the house," There wasn't an ounce of warmth in her voice. "Have fun sorting through that box."
But it did.
Tristan smiled when Myles suggested he take the chartreuse shirt as well. It was always nice when Myles supported his more unconventional purchases – not only was Myles someone whose stylistic choices he admired, it also meant at least one person wouldn't cringe when he chose to wear the additional purchase. Not that it mattered, really. Clothing was how Tristan liked to express himself, and buckling under pressure from too many people defeated the purpose. It was just nice when people offered their compliments or admiration of any given outfit. As he contemplated the shirt with newfound interest, his mind began to whir with possible outfits he could wear it with. Maybe his teal sweater and pale pink chinos? He hadn't pulled either of those out for awhile, so it'd make for quite the striking ensemble, if he could find the right occasion for it.
He managed a chuckle at Myles' comment about his taste (or lack thereof). Tristan was proud of his ability to style any clothing put in front of him, no matter how odd it might've been. He had to admit it was more difficult for some items, but that was what made it fun – it was almost like a game, finding some tacky shirt or accessory and finding some way to make it work, against all seeming odds.
"I think my speed usually suits you just fine, Mylo," He smirked, hoping the heat rising his his cheeks didn't prove too visible to his companions.
Myles took the opportunity to exit the room, being followed summarily by Madison, whom yanked the shirts out of Tristan's hands before he had time to register it. As she marched out of the backspace, Tristan took a second to let out a shaky breath. The tension in the room was still palpable and even more noticeable without Madison's presence. He couldn't help but still wonder what he or Myles had done to set her off. She really was an enigma – someone so generous but so quick to fall out of friendliness and into monotone and little barbs.
He trailed out behind Madison, feeling all too much like a puppy following its master. He took the bag from her with as much gentility as he could muster considering the aggression with which she'd pushed it onto him. As Madison slumped back and immersed herself in her phone, Tristan opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. He wasn't sure what could help, at this point.
He brushed his fingertips against Myles' with his free hand and gave him a small smile. Even if his interactions with Madison had gone somewhat awry, it was still nice that he'd run into Myles and wouldn't have to face the rest of the day in solitude like he'd anticipated.
He offered Madison a soft wave and murmured, "See ya later, Madison," before turning on his heel and slowly walking towards the exit, ready to face to cool air beyond.
As he left the store, Tristan found the image of a disgruntled Madison seemed burned into his mind, and he immediately regretted not expressing more gratitude in the moment. His conscience slowly caught up to him as he walked, and when he was barely halfway down the street, he found his fingers fishing his phone out of his pocket and hammering out a Facebook message to Madison.
hey, thanks so much for today!
let me know if i can make it up to ya sometime x
He closed his eyes and clicked 'send' straight away, not allowing himself a pause to read over his text lest he reconsider and spend the next half hour analysing every word and the way Madison could interpret it.
He hoped it would help.
((Tristan O'Hara continued in Expanding Your Horizons))
He managed a chuckle at Myles' comment about his taste (or lack thereof). Tristan was proud of his ability to style any clothing put in front of him, no matter how odd it might've been. He had to admit it was more difficult for some items, but that was what made it fun – it was almost like a game, finding some tacky shirt or accessory and finding some way to make it work, against all seeming odds.
"I think my speed usually suits you just fine, Mylo," He smirked, hoping the heat rising his his cheeks didn't prove too visible to his companions.
Myles took the opportunity to exit the room, being followed summarily by Madison, whom yanked the shirts out of Tristan's hands before he had time to register it. As she marched out of the backspace, Tristan took a second to let out a shaky breath. The tension in the room was still palpable and even more noticeable without Madison's presence. He couldn't help but still wonder what he or Myles had done to set her off. She really was an enigma – someone so generous but so quick to fall out of friendliness and into monotone and little barbs.
He trailed out behind Madison, feeling all too much like a puppy following its master. He took the bag from her with as much gentility as he could muster considering the aggression with which she'd pushed it onto him. As Madison slumped back and immersed herself in her phone, Tristan opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. He wasn't sure what could help, at this point.
He brushed his fingertips against Myles' with his free hand and gave him a small smile. Even if his interactions with Madison had gone somewhat awry, it was still nice that he'd run into Myles and wouldn't have to face the rest of the day in solitude like he'd anticipated.
He offered Madison a soft wave and murmured, "See ya later, Madison," before turning on his heel and slowly walking towards the exit, ready to face to cool air beyond.
As he left the store, Tristan found the image of a disgruntled Madison seemed burned into his mind, and he immediately regretted not expressing more gratitude in the moment. His conscience slowly caught up to him as he walked, and when he was barely halfway down the street, he found his fingers fishing his phone out of his pocket and hammering out a Facebook message to Madison.
hey, thanks so much for today!
let me know if i can make it up to ya sometime xHe closed his eyes and clicked 'send' straight away, not allowing himself a pause to read over his text lest he reconsider and spend the next half hour analysing every word and the way Madison could interpret it.
He hoped it would help.
((Tristan O'Hara continued in Expanding Your Horizons))
Honestly, people were exhausting. Myles was only dealing directly with Madison and Tristan, two people that he knew, and his attention and energy was still pulled in such opposite directions. He wanted to smile one way and slap a bandaid of plastic niceties on the other.
He needed a hierarchy to determine which of his emotional reactions would come to the forefront. In order of importance:
1. Oh God, Tristan. Myles almost had to laugh at the boldness. Almost.
2. Madison, what is your damage?
3. This box of free ugly junk was heavier the longer he held it and he was already regretting not letting Tristan carry it.
4. Wait, crap, Tristan was already out the door.
Well, that settled even if the lead up hadn't already. Time to bail. Myles would have been out first if he hadn't been struggling with the box and more used to Madison's... oh, let's call them whims.
He paused for just a moment by the counter, despite the fact that Madison was already buried in her phone once more.
"Thank you," he said softly, putting as much warmth into his voice as he could muster. "Really." Maybe it would keep her from erupting. Maybe it would just make things worse. Madison was a train wreck on a good day, and Myles was pulling away from the station before he could get caught up in it. He didn't have the time or inclination to try and parse out just why she was such a miserable person.
He lingered for a moment more, feeling as though there was something else that needed to be said, but even if something was needed, he didn't have it.
"See you around."
And then he was out the door on Tristan's heels, escape successful.
((Myles Roux continued in The Slippery Slope Fallacy))
He needed a hierarchy to determine which of his emotional reactions would come to the forefront. In order of importance:
1. Oh God, Tristan. Myles almost had to laugh at the boldness. Almost.
2. Madison, what is your damage?
3. This box of free ugly junk was heavier the longer he held it and he was already regretting not letting Tristan carry it.
4. Wait, crap, Tristan was already out the door.
Well, that settled even if the lead up hadn't already. Time to bail. Myles would have been out first if he hadn't been struggling with the box and more used to Madison's... oh, let's call them whims.
He paused for just a moment by the counter, despite the fact that Madison was already buried in her phone once more.
"Thank you," he said softly, putting as much warmth into his voice as he could muster. "Really." Maybe it would keep her from erupting. Maybe it would just make things worse. Madison was a train wreck on a good day, and Myles was pulling away from the station before he could get caught up in it. He didn't have the time or inclination to try and parse out just why she was such a miserable person.
He lingered for a moment more, feeling as though there was something else that needed to be said, but even if something was needed, he didn't have it.
"See you around."
And then he was out the door on Tristan's heels, escape successful.
((Myles Roux continued in The Slippery Slope Fallacy))
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
With the clang of the bell announcing their departure, Madison spared only a moment of bittersweet relief as she watched Myles and Tristan melt into the crowd beyond the glass storefront before once more nestling herself into the safety of her phone. Part of her wanted to text Connor, if only to nurse her bruised ego and talk to someone who understood, someone she could just be around and not have to worry about what she was saying or doing.
But she didn't.
Because she knew if she did, because he'd ask how her day was going and comfort her when she told him and make it feel like the way she acted was okay when she knew it wasn't. Instead, she pulled her dark hair from its bun, letting it hang like a curtain around her face, as if she were a kid hiding from the Boogie-Man, eyes still fixated on the bright screen in front of her. Sometimes it was overwhelming to be around so many people, even if they weren't talking to her or even looking at her, for the matter. It was worse when she was in a bad mood.
She stayed like that for a short time, deaf to Brenda hob-nobbing with the few customers that weren't there solely to window shop, eyes glued to her phone and chin rested heavily in her palm. It wasn't until she got a facebook notification that any life was breathed back into her, her hand swiping her long bangs behind her ear and posture suddenly stiffer, either from excitement or dread as she saw Tristan's name as the sender. Quickly; quicker than she'd ever admit to, she opened it, fighting a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as her eyes darted over the short sentence.
It may not have meant a lot to him, maybe something he'd done just to be kind or polite, and maybe he and Myles were talking about what a raving bitch she was or how she a psychopath, but it meant something to her. And maybe he meant it.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, posture now reaching her full 5'11", but she didn't send anything. She wrote a singular word before erasing it entirely, staring instead at an empty reply box for a moment before closing the webpage completely.
She didn't know what to say, told herself she'd think of something and reply later, but she knew she wouldn't. Instead, she pocketed her phone and watched as a couple Brenda had just rang out left the store, joining the flock of people just as Myles and Tristan had.
"Did your friends leave already? They looked super sweet!" Brenda's cloying voice droned from beside her.
Once more, Madison fought a smile.
"Shut up, Brenda."
But she didn't.
Because she knew if she did, because he'd ask how her day was going and comfort her when she told him and make it feel like the way she acted was okay when she knew it wasn't. Instead, she pulled her dark hair from its bun, letting it hang like a curtain around her face, as if she were a kid hiding from the Boogie-Man, eyes still fixated on the bright screen in front of her. Sometimes it was overwhelming to be around so many people, even if they weren't talking to her or even looking at her, for the matter. It was worse when she was in a bad mood.
She stayed like that for a short time, deaf to Brenda hob-nobbing with the few customers that weren't there solely to window shop, eyes glued to her phone and chin rested heavily in her palm. It wasn't until she got a facebook notification that any life was breathed back into her, her hand swiping her long bangs behind her ear and posture suddenly stiffer, either from excitement or dread as she saw Tristan's name as the sender. Quickly; quicker than she'd ever admit to, she opened it, fighting a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as her eyes darted over the short sentence.
It may not have meant a lot to him, maybe something he'd done just to be kind or polite, and maybe he and Myles were talking about what a raving bitch she was or how she a psychopath, but it meant something to her. And maybe he meant it.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, posture now reaching her full 5'11", but she didn't send anything. She wrote a singular word before erasing it entirely, staring instead at an empty reply box for a moment before closing the webpage completely.
She didn't know what to say, told herself she'd think of something and reply later, but she knew she wouldn't. Instead, she pocketed her phone and watched as a couple Brenda had just rang out left the store, joining the flock of people just as Myles and Tristan had.
"Did your friends leave already? They looked super sweet!" Brenda's cloying voice droned from beside her.
Once more, Madison fought a smile.
"Shut up, Brenda."
** Madison Springer continued in... You've Been Struck By...