Tristan "Strawberry" Westergaard
| Town || Porcelain |
Tristan looked at her like she was stupid? Had he ever heard of goth, what kind of question was that. A third of the girls he slept with were goth. They were usually easy targets, after all. “Goth isn’t a statement, though. It’s a style,” he retorted in a rude manner. “We really aren’t that different, you know.” At least it seemed that way to him. They both hated people, or so it seemed, and were rebellious. He avoided eye contact with her, Tristan didn’t want to talk about his family. Or his past, he was focusing on the present and the future.
“You do not brush your hair,” he replied, completely ignoring her first retort. He didn’t really know what ambulances had to do with anything, but he sure as h-ll wasn’t going to be making a bigger fool of himself than he already was. “These jeans were a strategic choice!” He said, a little louder than was required. “I didn’t want to be glowing as I walked down the hallway.” The suit really was way too bright for him, it should have come with a seizure warning.
Now he was just confused, she went from bashfully blushing to snapping at the girl. Not that he really minded, as she had just completely blew off a customer. A paying customer. It wasn’t exactly great service. Well, that and he hated the idea of being rejected for the second time today. What he was a little worried about was the fact that Porcelain might’ve been hiding something. Like her sexuality, which he couldn’t be bothered about. He just hated the idea of paying for all of this stuff when he didn’t even have a chance, not even a small one. The cashier let out a lot of little squeaks, through all of which he could only think about how annoying she was. “Card,” he replied curtly. He paid, and left a 5% tip, which would have been seen as cheap if it weren’t for the huge cost of the clothes. “Oh,” he chuckled darkly, “we’re not together. It would do you well to remember that not everyone wants to be with you. Some of us do have standards, after all.” He said this despite his sad attempt at flirting a few moments ago. He picked up around half the bags, it wasn’t all that heavy. “Can we leave now, Silver? My head is starting to hurt from the reek of desperation,” he glanced at the cashier.
@ethereal - Porcelain
ORP: … this poor girl