The bell chimes as a customer walks into the shop. "How can I help you," You ask, monotone. The man chuckles. "How much are you?" He says, flirting. Like You haven't heard that one before. You look up and see Murdoc Niccals, from the news. You gasp. Your heart beats faster. "H-how can I help you?" I repeat. He leans over the counter and takes a strand of your (H/C) hair between his fingers. He grins. "I should be askin' you the same thing, Luv." Your face heats up. No one else is working. You're alone. You can't seem to jerk your head back. You can't protest. The bell chimes again. "Oi, leave ta gal alone would'ya?" A tall, blue haired man asks. He looks your way and meet eyes. "Ello," He says, waving casually. You stare into his jet black eyes. Your face goes pale. He looks like something straight from a nightmare. The possibly armed criminal turns your chin so you face him. "Now, pet, be a doll and find me a (insert fave old school band) vinyl." He asks. His voice is low and raspy, it tickles you eardrums and you shudder. You nod and step out from behind the counter. "I din't really fink d-dat was all to necessary." The blue haired man points out. The scoundrel grunts in response.
After a few minutes of rummaging, You return with a vinyl. "Will this work?" You ask. He nods, not even looking at the record, but staring at your chest. "My apologies on his behalf," The blue haired giant mumbles. "Not an issue," You say, still having to be polite. He glances over the counter to you (Instrument of choice). "You play (IOC)?" He grumbles. You nod. "Why?" You inquire. "We need a player for a band. I'm sure you don't like it here to much." He says, practically reading your thoughts. "You can just see right through me," you say, quietly. "If only," he mutters, his eyes scanning your body. You consider for a moment. "Yeah, I'll do it." You say. He grins. "I'll enjoy playing with you~" he says, seductively.
