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Realistic or Modern Spellbound

OOC
Here
Lore
Here

Soliloquy

♥Hopeless Chromatic♥
xrakkax xrakkax
blood-trailing-deer_feature-1030x687.jpg
 
Volume One: Spellbound
Volume Two: Spellbound: Revelation
Interlude: Fluff
Volume Three: Spellbound: Reclamation
Layla braced her left hand against the International-Fun Shop’s glass counter as she crouched down to pick up the fallen ‘FX-Stencils’. The other hand clumsily swooped around her baby-bump to snatch the false scars, glittery spider webs, and leopard print tattoos scattered at her feet. This was made all the more difficult by the curtain of straight brown hair sliding in front of her face. Puffs of air did little to help. By the time she got back up she felt her head swoon.

“Ugh." She laid a hand on her belly. "One and done!” She proclaimed.

A laugh fluttered from an aisle over. “Why didn’t you just ask for some help?”

“I’m pregnant, Diana, not crippled. ” Layla said, filing the stencils in their proper places. “Beside’s you’re up a ladder and Willow is in the back— I think she’s in the back—I just didn’t want to cause a scene.”

“Fair enough, but still—” Diana conceded, jumping down from her ladder with a thud to retrieve more bead necklaces. “—I mean, why are you working anyway? Didn't Kevin get a promotion? I thought you two would be out of Seabrook by now, headed to the Big Apple.”

“The promo is still up in the air." Layla heard another thud. "I didn’t know you wanted me gone so badly!” she teased.

“Oh come on, you know I didn't mean it that way.” Diana tsc’d playfully.

Thud

"Are you dropping down again?" Layla wobbled over to see Diana skipping out on the straights of the ladder.

"Yeah."

Thud

"You need to stop doing that." Layla scolded her, a maternal tone in her voice.

"It's fine." The teen waved her friends warnings away as too cautious. Layla insisted she help and pulled a fistful of beads from the box by the ladder, handing them up as needed. "Are you anxious about waiting on that promo?" Diana asked.

“It’s not so bad, actually,” Layla admitted. “Seabrook is where I want to raise kids, because of the people here, but I also want to support Kevin. So, leave or stay, I'm not complaining." Layla yawned, checking her watch. Almost 10pm. Her heart felt lighter to know that closing time was approaching. "Besides, my pregnant body has enough trouble acclimating to the weather I’ve lived in my whole life. I don’t want to give birth in the summer in New York, you know? Too hot.”

Little bells jingled when the front door opened. Diana peered casually over the tops of the aisle. “Speaking of hot.” she grinned toward their late-night customer.

A millennial couldn’t have crafted a more iconic man of their era. Ebony hair had been tied at the back of his head; messy, but out of the way. A well-groomed beard enhanced the strength in features. His olive skin paled in contrast to the blackness of the evening, only illuminated by the waxing moon behind him and the lights of the store. Confusion brought a touch of softness to a pair of obsidian eyes, enclosed with lashes any woman would envy, set below furrowed brows.

This mans mesomorphic build, his head having barely cleared the height of the door, and a motorcycle helmet tucked beneath his arm that matched the black and red leather jacket he wore, all pointed to three words of a familiar phrase— tall, dark, and handsome.

Diana peered down at Layla, seeking to share in the happy fate of seeing such a specimen tonight.

“Meh.” Layla spread her fingers and wiggled them like a seesaw.

“Uh uh, no. He’s not good looking?” Diana questioned exasperatedly. Perhaps taste had a lot to do with attraction, Kevin was no one to sneeze at, but it was hard for Diana to grasp this mystery ‘meh’.

The man had shuffled around a bit, looking up and down at the wall of merchandise, but he too checked the time and made a choice they saw few men make— asking for help. “S'cuse me, I am wanting help.” They couldn’t place the accent. Romanian? Russian? In any case, it sounded deep, with an edge like the crackle of stone.

“Yes, just a moment!” Diana called out, and looked down to Layla.” An accent. Now, how about that? Anymore points for hotness?” But Layla only laughed. Diana shook her head, her short waves of gold danced around her cheek. She just couldn’t pin down this woman’s preferences. “I’m going to excuse this as pregnancy brain, only because you’re my friend. As for me—“ Diana dropped down, but instead of landing like Batman, as she always did in her mind, her eyes widened and a squeak startled both her and Layla when her ankle turned. Diana leaned on the ladder.

“—as for you, you’ll need an ice pack.” Layla frowned. Diana ruefully glanced toward the customer, silently pleading to perhaps sit on a chair, or lean on the ladder. Layla would not have it. She helped Diana toward the fridge in the back. “Willow? There's a customer at the front. Superwoman here had a bump with her kryptonite. See to him, please?”
 
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The store had felt slightly crowded as of late, although it wasn't truly anyone's fault. While Layla might have insisted that she was still fully capable of working, there was an impending sense of liability at leaving half your staff in such a handicapped state this far in her pregnancy. As a result, the relatively small store was triple manned, even so late at night when there was seldom a soul in sight. Like most neighborhoods in the area, the sidewalks practically rolled up by nine, so their most common customer was a panicking mother with a birthday party the next day, or teenagers who were up to no good.

Since the front of the store could be pretty well managed by the other two while traffic was so low, Willow took the opportunity to tackle the backend storage. Things had become even more of a jumbled mess than prior to her starting at the novelty store, meaning they were overdue for some order. Even if she was being paid the bare minimum, which meant she was scraping by just to make ends meet, she was determined to make the most of it and maybe even get on the owners good side for an early pay raise.

Surrounded by what felt like mountains of merchandise, she had settled into the act with a pair of headphones attached to her phone that was tucked in her back pocket. Immersed in her own world, she set to work on sorting out the oldest merchandise and taking inventory of the most recently acquired. A few minutes into it, she was taking a brief break to pull her dark hair back into a tie, already annoyed with how frequently it was falling in her face.

Willow didn't know how long she had been at work going through the massive mess, only mildly aware of a thing line of perspiration along the top of her brow when movement caught her eye. With music louder than the normal recommended volume she had been oblivious to the events in the front of the store, stumble and customer alike. A blur of her two coworkers make her look up, taking an earbud out just in time to hear '-a customer at the front. Superwoman here had a bump with her kryptonite. See to him, please?'

Her brows pursed together for a moment, curiosity wanting to know just what had happened that she had managed to miss, but also knew better than to leave a customer waiting. Mister Sanckowicz made it clear to his employees how important the customer was: "Without the customer, we're just a room full of stuff no one wants!" Annoyingly enough, she could hear his voice even though he was off on a vacation, lucky bastard. Deciding she'd have to press for details on just why Diana was limping, she let her earbuds drape around her neck and headed out to the front to meet their mystery night guest.

Putting on her best customer service smile, she wove her way through the aisles until coming around the corner to find the customer in question, making her stop a few feet short when she saw him. Normally, Willow would have been sensible not to think much of anyone in the store on anything but a professional level, but the man who loomed before her was...well, what a man. Certainly a step up from the usual worn down father of three or the sweaty boss preparing for a luau. It wasn't even just his looks, although clearly that was the first thing that she was exposed to, mesmerized by just the aura that he presented in front of her.

Realizing she was just gawking at this man (who probably was stuck in this position more often than not) she forced herself to speak, offering a more genuine smile than the first she had sported. "Evening," she offered in an almost tremulous tone, internally wincing at the sound of her own voice. "How can I help you, sir?" She wondered if this had anything to do with Diane and Lalya currently in the backroom, although it seemed an unlikely connection. She kept her eyes trained on his face, even if it meant craning her neck a little and that she was tempted to let her gaze wander.
 
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While Willow would have had to flick her eyes from head to toe, and thus give away her intention to appraise him, the customer need only to peer downward. Now, there was no way to tell if the man took advantage of his periphery, thanks to his height, to check out the mutually attractive staff-woman, but his mouth did pull up in a smile. The only hint to his thoughts behind those dark green eyes, like shards of sea glass, were the wrinkles at their edges, as any genuine expression of contentment would do.

“I am needing gift for niece. I want that you help find something for almost-fifteen-year-old.” A stronger Russian tone came through his pronunciation, especially the ‘Th’ becoming a loose ‘D’ and the ‘A’s uniformly spoken as in ‘water’, but there was definitely traits of Romanian hidden in the bounce of his sentence. “She crafts for the Etsy, she plays the video games, she has, uh, the fish— the aquariums—, she has the ravens, and, uh, she reads the animal books. My time is run out, other stores, they close. This is last hope.”
 
Having missed him first entering the store and requesting assistance, his accent surprised her. In the surrounding area, the most comment cadence heard was the slow bounce of the southern drawl, occasionally mixed with the mumbling roll found in those closer to Louisiana with Cajun roots. Willow herself lacked many defining characteristics in her speech, save for when she was on the point of exhaustion or high levels of excitement, sporadically summoning a twang to her tone.

His accent meant she had less of a luxury to observe him, needing to focus on the unfamiliar syllables to comprehend just what he was saying, oblivious to the creeping smile across her lips. "A present for your niece," she repeated back, wanting to show that she was keeping up with his purpose for coming to the store. "I'm sure we can find something she'll appreciate, even if her uncle decided to wait until the last second." The end bit was a light jest at him, hopefully one to keep the mood light between them.

She turned and pointed down the main stretch of rows toward an end cap a few down. "Why don't we start in the craft aisle? It's probably the closest one and then you can tell me warm or cold I am to what you're wanting to get her. Sound good?" Her offer was one to show she was ready to dedicate to his quest, despite it being rather close to closing time.
 
The man rolled his shoulders back in fictional pain over the comment about this being at the last minute, his face wincing “Ouch.” He did not appear to take it negatively though. A charming chuckle followed shortly after as he followed her. “Hey, I am good uncle. Just busy uncle.” his free hand emphasized his words; tapping his chest, swinging his hand out and flaring his fingers. “Now how have we here?” He drummed his fingers on his helmet, humming distractedly from the subject of his tardiness.

A few DIY kits caught his eye. Some had to do with crafting bracelets, some were focused on cards, soap kits, crafting a wooden camera, tiny felt toys, there was a box for pickling your own cucumbers, making your own cider, and shrinky-dink art, others. There were also paint sets, sculpt clay, colored feathers of various kinds, and packets of glitter.

“So, how is your suggestion?” He asked, his focus more on her than the merchandise.
 
Once they arrived at one of the larger aisles and he was browsing the merchandise, she did her typical sales expectations, pointing out anything that was at a reduced price and giving brief explanations. After all, this was her employment, not some night club; he had come to find a gift for his niece and she was literally being paid to make sure he could find what he wanted to. Her own knowledge on the store was still vague in places, but she did her best to try and help this 'good uncle' out in his time of need.

His question caught her attention, causing Willow to look up across the distance that height naturally created between them. Something in his gaze caught in her throat, a feeling of something she couldn't quite place behind those dark pools of his eyes she felt she could drown in. Realizing she was looking up at him, mouth agape like a silly fish, she quickly snapped her jaw shut, simultaneously clearing her throat and looking down to the shelf before them. "Uh, if she likes Etsy, some of these are more for younger crafters. I'd recommend the soap kits or bath bombs, those seem to be pretty popular right now," she offered quickly, her words almost melting together as she reached for the boxes she had described. Her grip almost failed on the soap box, slipping in her grasp but luckily catching it awkwardly against her thigh.
 
“Oh!” In reflex the customer went to help grab the box before it fell, his hand colliding with her own by her thigh. In sudden recognition of the closeness, and how it may look to anyone just walking over to see them, his hand pulled back, holding it up for peace. “Pardon me! Was instinct—to—to catch box— uh, sorry—” He stammered, clearly trying to recover from this awkwardness. “—uh, I—uh, I will buy this one.” He gestured with enthusiasm to the kit she held. “How much for soap box?”
 
The familiar slight heat of embarrassment might have started the process of darkening her fair cheeks, but it was that unintentional brush of skin that sent her into a state of flush that wouldn't be missed. Oh, for Christs sake. It's a hand! I'm a grownass woman, I shouldn't be blushing, she internally scolded herself while setting the unwanted box down. Anything for a chance to avoid eye contact while she tried to gather herself. The price tag - of course it's going to be in the smallest print possible - ah, there it was. "Um, looks like it's $14.95," she said after what felt like an eternity, although in reality was likely only a few seconds. "Did you need to get anything else for it? A bag or card, maybe? Unless you just plan on wrapping it?"
 
It was not hard to tell his own cheeks brightened, but a quick rub over his face tamed most of it. However, that smile of his widened, as if his emotions had to come out somewhere— either as a blush, or a grin. The customer cleared his throat, “Uh, no. Thank you. Box alone is fine.” He stuck his free hand in his pocket, pulling his wallet out, presumably, but he had trouble. “One moment.” He laughed, giving a yank. A long furry critter, black-backed and white-bellied, had a grip on his leather threefold. The creature trilled in protest, the natural mask-like patter on it face scrunched, the little ears on its head twitched. “Bandit, let go.” The man muttered. Like a slinky, the ferret slipped back into his pocket once the wallet was pulled from his tiny claw. “Hah. She uses as pillow.” He explained, taking out a ten and a five. “No worries about change.” The man offered, holding the money out to her.
 
Willow stood there, holding the box he had decided on, prepared to head over to the register for a normal transaction when he apparently decided he'd pay right then and there. She looked around, as if wondering if this was some sort of prank that the girls had decided to pull. When she looked back, the little fuzzy creature was pulled out of it's nesting spot, only furthering her guess and also making her take a step back in surprise. "Oh! Well, that's... cute," she decided once she was less caught off guard, giving the small ferret a smile before performing one of the weirdest exchanges of her life in the middle of the crafts aisle.

As the ferret vanished into his pocket, she passed over the box to him, accepting the two bills and holding them in one hand while looking up at the mysterious man of never-ending surprises. "Well...I'm sure she'll enjoy her gift," she offered, unable to think of anything else to say in that moment. She just couldn't seem capable of taking her eyes off of him, for some odd reason.
 
“Very cute.” Though it was said in reference to the ferret, his eyes on Willow spoke of a different subject in mind. In reply to the comment about the gift, he nodded. “If not, I come back for refund. Perhaps I will have word with you about selling crappy box.” He teased.

A high pitched beep had him bring up his wrist. 10:00 pm exactly.

As if on queue, Layla came hobbling over. Behind her was Diana nursing her ankle on a chair. “Good evening, Mr—“

“—Al-Zakhar.” He finished for her. “Theo Al-Zakhar.”

“Mr. Al-Zahkar, I’m sorry to say but we’ll have to close shop.” she said with a polite smile. “I hope Willow here was able to help you.”

“Willow.” Theo said, as if testing it out with his tongue. “Yes, she is great help. I thank you again, Willow." He put on his helmet in anticipation of the ride ahead. "May your night be well.” He said to them all, and gave Willow a wink before heading out the door.
 
His playful banter had helped eased the tension from embarrassment, replacing it with a feeling best described as being giddy. She spoffed at his teasing, her smile wandering as she let the hand that held his money toyed with it habitually. "Well, you know where to find me then," she said through her grin.

The familiar sound of Layla struggling to walk caught her turn and look, admittedly a bit disappointed to see them coming to shoo him off. It wasn't as if he was causing them any harm and there really wasn't much they'd have to do for clean-up. Still, she knew she'd be ridiculous to ask him to stay or anything beyond what should happen at this point. A customer was done shopping and that meant they'd leave the store.

Oh, but Layla was coming along with giving her a piece of information she never would have had the courage to ask; his name. She blushed as Theo pronounced hers, somehow feeling her name was personal for the first time as it left his lips. "I'm glad I could help," she said, trying to keep herself modest, but that brief wink could have turned her knees to jelly - and nearly did. She watched him go longer than she realized, holding the money and even leaning around the corner of the aisle as he vanished out the store front, leaning against the end cap and exhaling softly.
 
Layla enjoyed the puppy crush Willow experienced. This could be her daughter in a couple of decades. “Remember, inhale and exhale.” She teased Willow. “And put that money in the register.” Just in case her head was fuzzy and distracted. Calling to the back, Layla said, “Diana, can you walk?”

“Yeeees.” The girl, and her ego, limped toward the two of them. Diana felt sore in more places than her aching foot. “So much regret.” She sighed, looking at the ladder. “I didn’t even get to talk to him.”

Layla pointed out, “Well, technically you replied to him when he asked for help.”

“That’s not the same. Willow got a wink!”

Layla rolled her eyes, “He’s too old for you anyway. You’re, what, 16?” She went to start closing up.

“In my heart, I am older.” Diana stuck out her tongue. “Willow, you’ve got a foothold in that door. Don’t let a hunk like that get away. A few flirts aren't going to do it. You should have nabbed his number!”

“Diana, firstly, a few flirts can make all the difference. Second, you should take some advice from Willow— she acted professionally, kept her head, and sold merch.” Layla praised her co-worker. “Meeting men is for after-hours! This is our job. Willow did exactly right.”

The teen silently mouthed Layla’s words comically when the woman’s back was turned, miming her body’s motions, clearly to entertain Willow. Diana snapped to attention when Layla heard chuckling. The temperamental pregnant woman eyed Diana, but finally shrugged off her suspicions. Besides, it was time to shut down the shop. Diana couldn’t do too much, but she did manage to help close up. Layla was her carpool, thankfully, so Diana had a ride home.

Just before they left, Layla said farewell to Willow, “Have a good night, and, just so you know, although I do think your intent to work hard is good, and I support and encourage it--” She whispered, covering her mouth from Diana’s view. “--I think Diana is a little right, Willow. Don’t forget to relax too!”
 
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Layla's voice summoned Willow back to reality, the faint blush returning once more as she cleared her throat to try and bring everything back to earth. "Why yes, mother," she teased the other woman who really wasn't any older than her, save for maybe a couple of years. The other certainly did act much older than she did, though, sometimes causing Willow to side with Diana, just like during the light banter.

Still, she listened and moved to add the sale to the till before starting to do the quick counting and book work required of each day. The back and forth of the other two kept her in a good mood while she finished the final steps. Once everything was said and done and they were all headed out the door, the dark haired colleague's words admittedly caught her a bit off guard. Relax? Surely she was relaxed, wasn't she? Well, as much as someone currently on a never-ending cycle of bills and paychecks that were lacking, never catching up with her drams could be. This was the dream wasn't it?

September 18th, 2017
Just as it had a tendency to do, life was relentless and never at the right pace. There were more than enough faces to replace the mysterious, thick-accented man who left Willow swooned, even if it was only after young Diana was done pining and healing from that night. While Layla was receiving the wonderful news that her and Kevin would be moving up to New York with the new position secured and ready to finish working while she baked up the last touches on their little one, Willow was on the receiving end of daunting bills and no progress in pursuit of her dreams. She had also lost out on the two she was closest with at the store, Diana also done with working as school resumed so she could focus on her studies. Low on hope and high in debt, it was seeming more and more obvious that she was going to need to pick up a second job or better one all together.

There was always the pressing alternative that called on her days off, asking if she was sure she didn't want to come back home. The offer was always there, and they'd love to have her come work with them! She could practically recite her mothers speech by heart, even if sweet Anita Crosse didn't realize just how repetitive she was. She and her father had tried time and time again to ease their daughters burden, knowing more than she let on about the Hollywood dream that was now a coastal Texas nightmare. Pride meant she would insist everything was fine even if it fell apart, wanting too badly to make this work. She'd work eighteen hour days before admitting she had failed and tucking tail to head home.

Armed with a newspaper already covered in various scribbles with a few articles circled or crossed out, some clearly more preferred than others, Willow sought out companionship and a second opinion for her endeavor. A quick text went to her dear friend Molly, knowing fully well that had the afternoon free (seeing as she was constantly begging for a chance that the two of them go out and 'do something' when Willow couldn't afford to do whatever 'something' was). A few minutes later, she was giving a brief honk to announce her arrival in the worn down but generally still reliable Accord, radio and hopes high that by the end of the day she was going to have struck at least a bit of luck.
 
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The handsome customer did not return, though he knew where to find Willow. To be sure, the pretty maid of the International-Fun Shop lingered in his mind for a while. Theo had even mentioned her to some of his family. But, bills to pay, research to study, holidays to observe, and gigs to play dragged Theo into his normal routine of responsibility.

Now more than ever Theo had to lend his hand to his family. Their pub, the ‘Old Bear’, was opening soon. It had been a project years in the making. They even imported wood, bear-hides, hand-made Russian instruments, and the alcohol shelved behind the bar was not without beloved Russian beverages. But two cooks and a bartender wasn’t enough. Theo was too busy with study, Lyov was old, Granya too young aside from other personal restrictions, and Nat just started her apprenticeship with the local animal clinic.

So, they sent out flyers and got a few tags for interviews. Two of the recently reviewed potentials had DUI’s on them, and the third was expected any minute. And since it was up to Molly Malone, she’d get Willow there in a span of Theo’s wink.

“Woo, girl. That text saved my life, I’ll tell yah. Daisy-Lou and Bob were two minutes too late to ask me to help watch their demon chihuahua for the afternoon. Bless their hearts, but it’s a dog, not a baby!” Molly’s accent was heavily southern, and so was her vibrant personality. “If this isn’t a fated day, I don’t know what is. Green lights all the way here. And on left-turns too!” Molly’s arrival may have had more to do with her speedometer ticking a few marks past a comfortable pace. The hanging twin guns of her rearview mirror swung hard left and right when she turned. To her credit, this purebred Texan hadn’t gotten into an accident yet.

The Accord wheeled into the freshly paved parking lot. Molly hopped out in her worn jeans, cream blouse tied at the front, and ruby boots. Her dusty brown hair was messily pinned up. Two gold hoops dangled by her neck. Molly tucked her phone, wallet, and keys in her back pocket and tossed her purse in the car. “Alright, honey, let’s see what this place’s got.” Molly looped her arm in Willow’s practically skipping to the door. Was it the deprivation of Willow’s company before this point that electrified Molly’s personality? Was it luck to have an excuse to turn down watching Zika, the chihuahua from hell? For whatever reason had ole Molly beaming and smiling, it didn’t hold. Upon entering the well-lit, Russian-esque, bar and grill, Molly’s exuberance faded. Did Molly shudder? Or was that the sudden cold of the AC blasting on her? In any case, Molly loosed her hold on Willow and stared ahead at the men and woman sitting at a long table.

Theo sat with his coffee, nearly white from cream, at his right while looking down at a book laid in front of him. His pointer finger ran quickly over the sentences. The books as thick, wide. Probably a textbook by the vague pattern they could see from where they stood.

The only woman sat to Theo’s left. Four thick brown braids down her front and back ended at her hips. Spiral earrings made of wood through her lobes were colored bright red. Like Theo, she had olive skin, full lips, though her eyes were hazel. She looked up once they walked through the door, pleasant, but not attempting to brown-nose.

The clean shaven man beside Theo’s right side looked more like the woman than he did anyone else. A scar ran down the right side of his face. He had short brown hair, muddy light hazel eyes, and a boyish grin on display. Clearly, he was not above getting chummy. The man stood up and pulled out chairs for the newly arrived women. “Welcome to the Old Bear!” The accent, just like Theo’s. “My name is Micha. This is my Uncle Jovan—“ He pointed to the last man, and older gentlemen who embodied the rough charm of Russia in his nod, both without a smile and yet full of respectful. His black hair was streaked in white, and so was his impressive beard. “—this is my sister Amalia, and this is my cousin Theo. . .Theo—!” Micha gave him a swat.

As if snapped from a dream, Theo shot his eyes up; emeralds touched with darkness. It took only a moment for Theo to go from a publicly polite smile and wave to a pause, and a wide grin that wrinkled the edges of his eyes. “Well, good afternoon.”
 
If there was one thing in the world that gave her hope on this planet, it had to be dear Molly. Ever since the two had collided - quite literally - on campus, they'd grown closer and closer, and no obstacle seemed to be able to keep them apart. With her...creative...navigation through the streets, most would have reached for the reassuring bar above the passenger head (and been sorely disappointed since there was nothing but a couple of screws where it had once been) but Willow was more than accustomed to the unorthodox driving. Besides, at this point she'd trust that southern belle with her life, which some would argue was exactly what happened on a drive like today.

Instead, Willow was sitting comfortably in the passenger seat, folded up newspaper in one hand while the other held a ballpoint pen. "Well, I suppose it's better they have a rotten dog than a rotten child, right?" she offered as a consolation, crossing another job listing that was asking for all the wrong expertise. Needless to say, there weren't a whole lot of acting opportunities in the Seabrook area. As they took another turn a few miles too fast, she chewed on the already beaten up cap, face scrunched up in dissatisfaction. Well, one day at a time. The car came a creaking stop, meaning the newspaper was tossed up on the dashboard for further examination once the first stop was over.

The idea of working at a bar was less thrilling, but it was also a job and could also mean working hours that countered what she was getting still at the International Fun Shop. Plus they had plastered the area and Molly decided it was a good place to start. Climbing out of the vehicle much slower, Willow straightened up, immediately assaulted by the sun that made her wish she had brought her sun glasses with after all. There was a severe lack of planning in the day, starting with the fact that she didn't dress as comfortably as Molly, figuring first impressions were somewhat valuable when you hoped to convince someone to pay you for your time. As it stood, she wore a tea-length spring dress, deep navy and covered in sunflowers along with woven sandals. Dress pants were completely off the table in this searing heat, and even now she regretted leaving her dark hair down, knowing that it wouldn't be long before the sun summoned a thick layer of sweat on the back of her neck.

"Maybe a full time job and benefits," she said with obvious over-enthusiastic optimism, keeping the other on her arm as they entered the Pub. Even while it was well-lit inside, the transition from the glaring sun left Willow wanting, blinking frequently to try and urge her eyes to adjust to manufactured lighting. She approached the bar with her most professional smile, immediately amused how this was going from a job interview to a family introduction. She listened as the man behind the bar, Micha, provided a slew of thickly accented names. The final name only struck a slight chord with Willow, trying to digest everything around her as her dark eyes bounced from figure to figure.

"It's so nice to meet you al-," she started before the last voice to sound's familiarity took root. While it was pretty obvious this was going to be a room of heavy accents, Theo's had already made it's appearance, along with that playful smile. The corners of her lips tugged to a wider smile, laughter playing silently in the twinkle of her eyes as she trying to process how she should react. Likely not by staring dumbly at the man who had first spoken's cousin, even if he was easy on the eyes. "It's nice to meet you all," she tried a second time, giving Theo a final glance before tearing her gaze away and looking back to Micah. "You have a wonderful pub, and my friend said that you're hiring -- unless of course you've found someone to fill a position already?" Her arm on Molly gave a soft squeeze when she was mentioned, clearly too preoccupied with her own hopeful job jitters to notice that the bubble belle was clearly off.
 
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“No one of consequence, assure you.” Micha spoke for them all, and though it appeared this wasn’t wrong, Jovan didn’t look pleased with his nephew who added, “Of course, maybe, I don’t know. We see.” Micha sheepishly sat back down.

The light squeeze brought some of Molly’s mind to the present, but the southern belle didn’t say too much beyond ‘Thank you’ for the seating, and to say hello when introducing herself. She sat with her hands fidgeting with the knot of fabric at her front. Molly wasn’t one to sweat much, as evidenced by her jeans, but now a gleam of moisture dappled her palms, and a few dew drops formed on her temple.

Jovan cleared his throat, the sound of which resembled more of a bear’s throated groan than a man’s cough. “Welcome, Willow Crosse, and Molly.” Though he obviously meant to question Willow, Theo seized the moment to do himself.

“Willow, this job is dedication. Ok, so let’s just get out of way—” Theo pressed finger-tips to finger-tips, assuming a semi-serious pose of a professional interviewer. “—do you have job elsewhere? Do you have time demands, like maybe boyfriend?” The looks of the others indicated that this may not have been apart of their usual questions. In fact, Amalia emitted a laugh even she didn’t expect.
 
A glimmer of hope struck Willow when it seemed they weren't having any luck finding a position. Sure, that wasn't boding well for them, but it meant she had more of a chance if there wasn't much for competition. She eased herself down to the chair that was offered to her, mindful to cross her ankles behind the other, toes resting on the surprisingly clean floor. She could say this was definitely a first for her, both on account of the location and also the number of people who were apparently going to interview her.

Jovan clearing his throat made her jump slightly in her seat, a slightly embarrassing move. After all, who'd want to hire a girl to work at a pub who couldn't handle a bit of noise. She did her best to keep her eyes trained on the older gentleman, although it seemed he wasn't going to be the point of focus. Theo easily snatched the spotlight away, only throwing her off guard as she was forced to switch her gaze to him.

He was a character, that was for sure, already bringing a twitch of a smile to her lips with his mock pose. Still, she was here in hopes of finding a job, which meant she couldn't just giggle away like a little school girl around him, blushing and other nonsense. She wanted to show him that she was the best one for him to choose, although his first question made her bite her lower lip. She sure did have another job, not able to afford just leaving it without something lined up to replace or supplement. This was probably her least embraced question, although his next was what turned everything around.

Her eyes grew in size, taken back by his words and only emphasized by the others laugh. "A...a boyfriend?" she parroted the words back, brows creased together in visible confusion until it clicked just what he was trying to do. Her eyebrows quickly released and she could feel her cheeks growing warm as there were far too many gazes on her just then. Putting on her best professional facade on, she cleared her throat and folded her hands into each other, forearms resting on the table as she trained her eyes on his.

"I manage my time too well to let a man get in the way," she said with a smirk toying at the corners of her lips. "As for another job, I'm still working at the shop, as you are familiar with, Mister Al-Zakhar. That is, until I can find a suitable position to replace it with." For some reason, it just felt important not to let him completely throw her off, instead offering him a small dose of attitude and eyes that sparkled in a silent dare.
 
Micha looked between Theo and Willow, and sighed. He got the hint that whatever his intentions were for Willow, they were going to be overshadowed by his cousin. Amalia gave her brother a— seemingly patronizing—pat on the back. There was always Molly! Micha’s eye swept over to the nervous woman and he wiggled his brows. Molly, who had been uncomfortable in her skin, perked at his expression, but not in mutual affection. In fact, it was like her eyes were asking ‘Really?’ in a condescending way, if ever eyes could.

There was no mistake in Theo’s expression, he was sizing Willow up. Upon her answer, the grinning man opened his mouth to say something, but Jovan’s voice rolled in like thunder to steal back the interview, “We need person for all day, every day, but not Monday— we do not like Mondays—and we need person to stay at least one year. Holidays are off days. We have calendar to give if hired. Can you do that? What is typical day for you?”

A reasonable inquiry. Theo’s shifting jaw and hesitant lean was like a man testing the water with a toe. A man brimming with his own, less job-related, questions. However, whatever risks Theo weighed, they weren’t worth it after a quick glance from Jovan. His uncles would be the standing question for now. Posing any others may be met with sorrow and regret. . .for the moment, anyway.

Theo eased back in his chair, keeping his fingers together. He came to delight in his pose of authority, though it was obvious it had its limits.
 
The tension of unspoken words between Theo and Willow would have to wait; there'd always be time to chew him out for putting her on the spot later. For now, she kept her gaze on Jovan who seemed to be the most vested in the business given his persistence. Then again, maybe she was just a bit distracted to realize that was typical behavior for a job interview. Unlike the glances between Micha and Molly that went unnoticed by Willow.

They wanted someone who was extremely full time, which right now sounded like a godsend. She'd much rather find one full-time position than 2-3 part times and be torn between multiple schedules. Sure, it would mean she'd have to bid farewell to the International Shop of Fun, but frankly, it wasn't that much fun. Her matching pose from earlier had relaxed while her eyes lit up, nodding to the interviewer.

"I don't do anything aside from work, really," she admitted, even though it felt a little pathetic to say so. "The other job that I have, I don't expect to have it for much longer. If you have a full-time position open, I'd be happy to dedicate to it." Her eyes flicked over to Theo for a brief moment before returning to Jovan. Even if he was piquing her interest, she needed a job much more than flirty banter just then.
 
“Good.” Jovan gave a nod in acknowledgment. “We have snake, dog, and ferret often in pub. How is your with animals? ”

Theo’s fingers absentmindedly dipped into his pocket and moved them as if his pointer and middle were running in place. Rising up to press its head against the rubbing was the same old ferret from before. Once Theo’s hand finished and went back into place, Bandit did not. The she-ferret yawned and shimmed up his arm and sat on his shoulder. Eyes more alert by every minute and a nose twitching for possible adventure— maybe to chase mice, or to knock things off shelves, only time will tell. And apparently, time was up because Bandit spotted something and raced off the table to the ground and slipped into the shadows.

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Molly had not seen such a critter before. Her worries left her for a moment. And then immediately returned when she realized the shadow-box of off to the side, embedded in the wall, of a jungle of the amazon, was not an art piece, but a tank with a massive boa inside.

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Perhaps this may have been why she nearly jumped when she saw the fluffy rug move that was a couple feet away from her by Micha. Molly had been a bit of a dog-breed nut for a while. She knew this was a Russian bear dog— bred to kill the Grizzlies of the cold North. Coincidentally this had been one of which she told Willow about in the past.

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“Just how many animals have you got hiding around here?” Molly asked with a sight nervous waver to her voice.

“Hiding? No hiding.” Jovan wasn’t catching the nuance of the sarcasm, friendly though it was, because clearly, the animals had been there the entire time, out in the open.

Theo grabbed the opportunity to speak, first in Russian to his Uncle to clarify, and then said to Molly, “Our family is love animals. They will pop up here and there.” Having lost the floor to Theo again, the young man took the opportunity to ask his own question. “We do have full position open. If hard worker, and not squeamish about animals, and no DUI, and flexible, then—“ he shrugged a shoulder and turned to Jovan. “—what say you?”

Willow wasn’t the only one who did not appreciate being put on the spot. A sudden back and forth in Russian between uncle and nephew had Amalia watching in glee and Micha amused. Apparently, their cousin didn’t often get into this much trouble. Once the Russian slowed down Jovan spoke next. “Da. If ok with animal, work full time, and no DUI, is ok to hire.”

Theo beamed but did not speak. Whatever was said between the two, his silence may have had to do with his uncle’s finger repeatedly being pressed against mouth while saying “заткнись”.
 
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The short-lived appearance of the same slinking creature from the shop brought a smile to Willow's lips, much less started a second time around. She was just a curious little thing and clearly obsessed with Theo, a form of smitten the young woman could certainly relate to. She watched Bandit scurry off, eyes coming back to land on Theo once more before her attention was brought to the other non-humans in the room. A massive dog she could certainly live with, and although snakes and spiders had never been her favorite, she knew she'd be fine, so long as it stayed in it's aquarium and she wasn't expected to feed it or any other nonsense.

Her mouth opened to respond, but was quickly shut again as the back and forth between the two men began. The flurry of harsh syllables and sharp tone made her eyes widening, darting between the two. She might have had next to no experience with the language or know what was being said, but someone getting their ass chewed out was a universal concept that crossed even the thickest of language barriers. A creeping smile came along with Jovan's decision in the matter, an agreement to her employment.

"Of course, the animals are fine," she insisted with a quick nod of her head. "And no, no DUI...although I have had a couple of speeding tickets, so hopefully that's not a deal breaker." Her light joke was hopefully not too complex for the language barriers present. But just in case she kept up a broad grin, keeping her attention on Jovan even though it was getting increasingly hard. "How soon would you need me to start? I haven't put any sort of notice in with the store I work at now, so maybe smaller shifts while I'm being trained for a couple weeks. Would that be alright?
 
They waved away the speeding ticket. Clearly, no one here cared about that. They may have a few of their own. “Good! Tomorrow is Tuesday, you start then. Come in by six-thirty.” Jovan meant to go on, but Molly interrupted.

“Well, wait—“ Her flustered manner, unlike Texan’s normal confidence, struggled to follow up. Then she asked, “What’s the pay?” She asked, and gave a look to Willow as if this was reasonable to ask, and in truth, it was. “I mean, if International-Fun Shop isn’t the best, but at least it’s slightly above minimum wage. This is a pretty new pub. What can you really expect to pay a waitress?”

Jovan considered this thoughtfully, bobbing his head. “We pay five dollar more than minimum.”

“But, uh— well, but you tax the tips?”

“No, no taxing tips.” Jovan’s brows furrowed. “We do not steal.”

Molly fidgeted with her shirt again, “Oh— uh, well—ok, but, what if she needs weekends off for friends? You know she’s got a life outside of work—“ even if Molly couldn’t say what. “I mean, what if she’s Christian? Every Sunday would need to be free for the Lords day! That isn’t ‘every day’ like you said.” Pulling at straws, Molly coughed, not saying if Willow was or wasn’t religious.

“We respect individual.” Jovan offered, now confused with Molly.

Theo finally caught on to Molly’s demeanor. The girl was unsettled. This puzzled him. “Molly, is it? Willow is not prisoner. This ins’t indentured servitude.” He tried to make her lighten up with a joke, but it seemed there needed to be more said, “We are can be flexible. Uncle Jovan is just hope for good worker.”

Molly wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Willow, a moment please?” Molly spoke privately with Willow, a few seats down. “This is just your first stop anyway, right Willow? Didn’t you say you’d check out what your family has going?” Molly didn't recall if it had been mentioned, though the probability was low anyway. “Even if not, I mean, I can help while you find something. I got some money in savings. You can bunk on my couch if you have to.” Molly, worried that wasn’t enough, whispered. “Willow, I don’t feel right. I got—vibes.” she hadn’t spoken often about her ‘vibes’, but once in a while a feeling nagged at her and she had to say something, even about ones that she would never know the result of, and this was one of them.
 
It was a fair enough question that Molly brought up about wage, one that Willow had admittedly been a tad distracted from. Everything seemed more than resolved, a chunk over minimum wage more than enough for her. They were making less at the store and with much less hours, so this was an easy beat out. Even without tips she'd be much more relaxed than her current financial predicament.

"That's very generous of you," she attempted to compliment the wages offered, only to have Molly going off on tangent after tangent about things that would literally never happened. The other girl had known her long enough to know that she hadn't stepped foot in a church since leaving home. Not only that, but Molly knew that a social side was a luxury she currently couldn't afford, a fact that could be changing with this prospect of a job.

Her cheeks were threatening to warm again, not wanting her hopeful employer to think that she wasn't grateful for the offer already. What on Earth was she thinking to go on like they were trying to negotiate terms for her to agree to life - it was just a job. She was honestly grateful that Molly lured her away , prepared to give the southern belle a piece of her mind. At first, Willow was only more annoyed by the offer of Molly's help, determined to make this work on her own without any pity offerings. The worry of some silly sixth sense that something could be off was almost immediately dismissed, too perturbed by the prior comments.

"Moll, I'm not going back home," she said firmly, trying to keep her voice low enough that it was a private conversation although likely failing as she went on. "I'm not going to take their money and I'm certainly not going to take any of yours. This is exactly what I need and there's no reason to feel any sort of vibes or willies or nothing like that," a drawl she fought to hide peaked through. "They're nice folk and this is a great job. Why keep looking when you and I know both know there's nothing else in this town that's going to compare. Give it a chance?"
 

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