2019-10-11 - Another Day at the Dispensary

Jing-a-ling-ding-ding!

The bell over the door dances merrily as it opens and a shockingly fiery red head pokes inside. Dark brown eyes dart around here and there before the door opens wider to allow for the rest of the young woman to slip through. The messenger bag at her hips scrapes along the door's edge and something inside rattles and clangs lightly. Kass peeks around as she closes the door behind her, making her way deeper into the shop. "Hello? Hello, I'm.. uh, I'm looking for Grant? Is he about?" Dressed in a dark blue raglan top with grey sleeves and dark wash skinny jeans that tuck into a pair of Super Mario Bros themed Chuck Taylors, the clothes look just a touch small on the girl, like they don't quite fit anymore. She follows the heavy scent of pot towards the counter and leans over it carefully. "Hello?"

When the newcomer asks for Grant, she earns Greg's undivided attention. His eyes track her as she approaches, and he tosses the joint out back before slouching up to the sales counter and letting the door close.

"Take a walk, Karl," he tells the nervous, over-wrought cashier, who swears under his breath as he walks away to quietly have a panic attack somewhere. "Grant's not hear right now," Greg tells Kass. "The pro shop closes at night." Greg plants his hands on the counter, leaning over slightly, and gives Kass a careful once over. Not a quick scan; his dark brown eyes soak in the details of her facial features, examine how she's dressed and the way she holds herself. Curiously, he leans out over the counter to take a very long and close look at her shoes, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What did you need him for?" he asks casually, still examining Kass's shoes.

There are a wide, wide variety of things that a person should be doing. Shopping, sitting in diners drinking milk-shakes, all kinds of very wholesome things. But not Frankie, not tonight.

When she makes her way through the door there is the quiet jangle of bracelets as she reaches behind her to slide her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. Today she's got color on, in the form of blood oozing from the eyes of the voodoo style doll on the front of her black t-shirt. But it is color. There is also color in the red glass eyes on the stuffed black taxidermy rooster that she's got tucked beneath her arm.

Watching as Karl walks off, her brows knit together in confusion as the man heads away, her head turning towards Greg as he slinks into view. She blinks, straightening from her forward lean. The more he leans in, the more she leans back, hands lifting to grasp at the strap of her bag. Her eyes flick from his face, down, up, back down. "Oh, uh.. I can... I can come back? Or, can I leave a message? I.. forgot to get his number. The last time." She glances back down to her shoes, then back to Greg. "Is there... is there something wrong with my sneakers?" She shifts slightly, clothing drawing tighter, then settling once more. Looking vaguely uncomfortable at his scrutiny.

"I.. he.. we were going to, uh... paint. And... I needed to ask him something. A favor." she shrugs lightly, glancing back down to her feet. At the sound of the bell, she whirls once more, stumbling back a few steps over the untied laces of her Super Mario Bros themed Chuck Taylor's, spilling onto her butt and sprawling on the floor. The messenger bag hits the floor, the flap popping open and spilling a rainbow of spray cans and plastic jars of acrylic paints.

Since most of the town looks like death warmed over these days, it's no surprise that Graham is a little paler than usual. Circles under his eyes. Et cetera. He's getting over whatever is trying to kill everyone, and it shows when he slumps in through the front of the shop, calling out, "I need some service here!" before the door is even closed behind him. (Oh, but first he walked into the door because it opens OUT and he still thinks it opens IN, so he had to stop and punch it. Fortunately, his hand is wrapped up in a nice little Ace bandage, so neither door nor Graham were harmed during the making of this pose.)

"What the fuck," he adds upon finding himself walking in on a bunch of spray cans and shit going everywhere. "Can a man not just get some pot without some kinda catastrophe occurring?"

A number of interesting things happen all at once. Greg's eyes widen perceptibly as he studies those shoes, and there's an elevated amount of suspicion in his eyes when he raises them to Kass's face. "Blue shoes," he comments, as though that should mean anything to anyone.

And then Frankie walks in. His eyes dart between her and the blue-shoed Kass, in the way of someone trying to drag someone else's eyes somewhere to see something... and then Kass takes her tumble and explodes with paint. Greg just opens his mouth in a wordless expression of amazement, at this point really just trying to keep up.

Then Graham walks in, yelling about how he needs weed. Greg stares over at him for a moment, and his brain works out the math: Graham's the only one of the three that's threatened to buy anything so far. "What do you need, dude?" he addresses his friend. After all, they're gunfight buddies. The girl falling all over herself in blue shoes will have to wait a tick, and he shoots Frankie a quick 'what the fuck is even happening right now' kind of look.

What the fuck indeed. Frankie glances behind her at Graham, giving him this look before she moves a little more quickly to get distance between herself and potential plague. Or maybe she's just needing to put the rooster down, because as soon as she navigates the exploded spray cans and Kass on the ground, Scratch has been set down, and she points out, "He wanted to visit, see what you did all day."

Nothing weird about that, right?

Then she glances at Kass, then down towards her shoes, then back towards Greg with an upwards twitch to one corner of her mouth before she lifts her shoulders. There is eloquence in non-answers, right? She has zero answers, or at least none that can be shared out loud, so instead she offers Graham a helpful suggestion, "I hear Cereal Milk is great."

She totally Googled this, everyone act impressed.

"Ahh! Sorry! Sorry, I'll pick them up, sorry!" Kass is quick to apologize, swinging around to her knees, scrambling around to try and catch the cans and jars before they go everywhere. Crawling about on the floor, she's shoving the spray paint and acrylic paints back into her bag as she mutters apologies over and over, but in chasing down one of the jars that's managed to roll farther afield, Kass ends up pausing, looking to Frankie first as she dodges away from Graham, then to Graham himself. Fiery strands of red hair falling into her face, she watches the man that looks like death, wrapped up with an Ace bandage. And she winces.

Her hand grows tighter on the can she currently holds, the other making a sweeping, almost grabbing gesture towards him. And that's that. She goes back to muttering her apologies under her breath while crawling about the floor to retrieve her precious art supplies. A flicked glance towards Greg and she offers, "I have other shoes. Gold. Purple. Leopard print. Red. Uhhhhhhhh... White. Black. Grey. Spongebob. One pair looks like a Campbell's soup can. Pink Glitter. Hello Kitty. Sean Pablo. One pair has the Black Sabbath logo... they're black and yellow. Coca Cola. DC superheroes.. silver. I like Chuck Taylors." By way of overexplanation.

Someone has to say it: "Nice cock." Graham leaves it at that.

He's stuck to the door from there, because there's a lot going on in this room - and most of it was shit he wasn't prepared for when, "I just want some weed, man." The thing about the cereal milk flies right over his head, what with everything else going on right now, and now adding the opposite of injury to insult... he clutches his bandaged hand to his chest abruptly, backing into the door and everything. He makes some guppy-faces and casts a look around the assembled; this is not going according to plan. "Who...?"

Greg nods to Graham's answer. "Karl!" he veritably bellows. "Go weigh out two ounces, I don't care what." He shrugs as he looks back at Graham. "Everything I carry is good, you know?" His panic ratcheting to the next level, Karl goes off to weigh weed alone, without any help or supervision. Scary stuff!

The instant Frankie gets close enough, Greg leans out over the counter, even climbing up onto it slightly, to give her a quick smooch on the lips. He also gives one to Scratch, on the top of his little rooster head, and reaches out to pet his favorite black cock. "Hey gorgeous," he greets, words that are probably meant for Frankie and not Scratch. "So... this is happening right now," he informs her, with a look out at all of the everything hurtling off the tracks in here.

That look settles rather naturally on Kass, what with the fact that she's talking to him and all. Her extensive explanation about her shoe collection is met with his head tilting slowly to the side. At the end of the delivery, he points: "Those ones are blue," he informs her, in a tone that suggests this is new and helpful information she might not have had before. Aaaaand then Greg's gunfight fun-night homie starts freaking out, crashing into the door and causing the bell overhead to rattle mutely. Greg looks back at Frankie and just blinks, slowly.

"Babe... did I drop acid?" This is delivered as a completely serious question. Please, tell me if I dropped acid, helpful fiancee lady. He looks back towards the rooms happenings with a bewildered expression, and really just waits for the next episode of the unfolding drama at this point.

The compliment to her cock gets a bright smile from Frankie, the proud look of a pleased parent, one that was just told their kid is the best behaved in class, that they are the smartest. And it is all for the rooster that sits on the counter, silent in his death, staring at the world through red glass eyes. "Thanks."

As for things happening? Frankie might be actually trying to not think about what is going on, because these are complicated sorts of things to deal with. The first being the girl that is crawling around on the floor, and there is the faintest sort of amusement that crosses over her face before she reaches up to tweak Greg's nose, "Nope. You didn't drop acid." So helpful! Not that she knows what he did before she arrived, so there is still some possibility that he did drop acid, and this is all just the most strangest trip ever.

But Kass has her shit under control, ish, Graham seems more like he might panic and his head will explode. So with Greg now in charge of Scratch, she peels herself away from the counter to move towards the door in an effort to try and steer him through the madness to the safety of the counter and the bubble of sanity around the rooster.

"Is.. is blue bad? I'm sorry. I'm still.. new.. here. If blue's bad I can take them off?" Kass seems suddenly quite eager to be 'acceptable', her eyes darting between Greg and Frankie, looking to either (or both!) for this apparently quite important social integration information. The rooster is finally noticed, her eyes drawn to the black bird before she does the one thing she has yet to do tonight. She smiles. "Aww, you're cute." That is for the rooster, obviously. Then to Frankie, with a blink. "Um, and you are too, of course." Its only polite, right? That seemed to be how things were handled at Cabaret, anyways.

She seems to be quite studiously avoiding looking at Graham, instead moving to hunt down the last escapee from her bag, a small plastic jar of neon green acrylic paint. "Aha! There you are. I have plans for you, no running off." Tucking the jar into her messenger bag, she takes a few moments to re-settle everything in the bag before strapping it closed tightly. She flicks a glance towards the man at the door oh so briefly, then skitters her eyes away once more. She looks to Greg again instead. "So. Um. What's the strongest stuff you've got in here?"

"Who - " Graham continues guppy-facing, but he never does manage to articulate what his actual problem is. So, with a deep breath, still holding his ouchy-hand to his chest, he decides to tell everyone, "Fuck it. Thank you, whoever, but maybe be cool and ask next time."

So saying, he still decides that staying next to the door is the wisest course, so he continues to do that. "Can I just buy, like, this much - " He has money! He takes some out of his wallet and holds it up to show Greg. " - and I'll get outta your hair and you can go back to doing whatever the fuck you're doing in here today? With the chickens and the redheads and the paint?" He says it in a real 'not trying to judge' tone.

Greg gives Frankie a doubtful look. "I'm pretty sure I must be rolling," he says uncertainly.

He looks over to Kass and lofts an eyebrow slowly. "I mean, blue's not a bad choice in and of itself. I guess it's a personal choice." He glances down at the shoes again with an ineffable expression, then looks over at Frankie. Finding no guidance there, he looks back at Kass and shrugs, answering her. "The real fire is the dabs. I got some diamond sauce in yesterday that'll sear your lungs right out. As far as flower?" He shrugs lightly. "We're carrying about a dozen high-potency strains right now. They're all about the same strength, so it's more about the taste and smell, or if you're after an indica, a sativa, or a hybrid." He reaches out to the register, running some receipt paper out, and scribbles a number on it. "Bax's digits," he explains, sliding the piece of paper across the counter towards her.

Then he looks over at Graham, and chuckles, waving away his money. "I'll put it on your account and charge you double." He glances down at the hand that's causing so much excitement, and looks the question at Graham with a lofted brow.

One of the doors to the back is pushed open, and a less-than-cheerful looking Lex is stepping into the shop. She's not quite behind the counter as of yet, but she's at least a safe distance away from the dead chicken and tumbling paint. She's sighing a string of obscenities in Spanish, before green eyes flicker toward Greg. Taking the other man's lead? Or maybe just seeing his reaction to the bizarre scene.

"What the hell?" She finally asks, Greg or no Greg, as she looks to each of the shop's occupants. "What's with the dead chicken? And what..." She gives up there, simply shaking her head. The woman's dressed in pair of black cargo pants and a loose black t-shirt with the decal of a man's tie on the front. Blue hair has been drawn atop her her head, with a few strands falling free to frame her face.

One of those redheads is right there, Graham. There is a very slight upwards twitch of her brows and Frankie looks like she might just have a response for him on something, then it tanks a moment later. Instead she just leans in, pointing out a clear path towards the counter, "It's safe to walk through there. I'm pretty sure the floor isn't lava as long as you stay within this two-feet wide path."

Only, the hands that she holds out is about six inches apart, and Kass has all the cans and jars picked up, so the path is pretty wide open. She then tucks her hands into her pockets, eyes flicking towards Lex at the newest arrival on the scene, then she glances towards Scratch before she supplies the answer, "Joint custody." It's not an answer.

"Indica. Definitely indica. I... don't need to get wound up. It'd be like giving a chihuahua an espresso. Bad idea." Kass responds first to Greg, since he's doing the business thing. She bites down on her lower lip and asks, "I guess, um.. Master Kush? Or.. Afghani? If you have any." Her eyes dart back towards Frankie and Graham as she carefully lifts her hands up, open-palmed to show that she's hiding nothing, even stepping back a bit to give the man more room. "I'm sorry if I, uh.. startled you. With the cans and all. I just.. keep forgetting to tie my shoes." She's not ENTIRELY lying. Its all true. Just.. not all the truth. Skirting back a bit more, Kass is quick to look towards Lex and offer a nod, "Hi." Before she finally addresses the matter of her shoes with Greg once more by murmuring, "If it helps, the tops pull down and make it black with the gold coins..."

Graham's eyes pass over Greg's about the hand, and he waves the other one - after he puts his money away, cool, he'll pay double - in a dismissive fashion. Just "Long story, man." And the shrug-eyeroll combination that follow suggest that he's not about to tell it right now, among everything else going on in here. He tracks the path that's apparently safe to walk through, taking little baby-steps through it toward the counter; "Only 'cause I'm seriously fucking done with throwing up." He looks expectantly Gregwards, like pls to give him his stuff so he can GTFO now~

"Joints. Perfect. Gimme like nine of those." He nods after Frankie's not-an-answer, even if it had nothing to do with him.

Karl shows up right about now, coming out of the back room with two ounces of weed that nobody wants weighed out. "No, dumbass," Greg tells him, shaking his head. "I said bring out the jar of Afghani and I'll weigh it out myself. Go put that back." Karl stares at Greg for about three whole minutes before turning around to flounce his way into the back room huffily, letting the door slam behind him. Greg is oblivious to all this, smiling at Frankie while he reaches out to pet Scratch affectionately. "I'm hoping to graduate to unsupervised visits soon," he remarks optimistically.

Giving Graham a look, he wraps his fist around a masked number of prerolled joints, stuffing them into a bag. He grumps, bitching under his breath, and looks over at Lex. "Hey boss," he hails her with a grin. "Where'd we put that new RSO oil? That's my homie here really needs." He looks over to Graham. "You eat this stuff, no need to smoke it in the house or have anyone smell it on you. It's going to do you a lot better for nausea."

And right on cue, Karl returns to slam a jar of weed down in front of Greg with a wholly inappropriate amount of force before flouncing away again. Greg fires an amused grin after him which then slides to Kass. "How much?"

Lex continues to stare at the dead chicken, and the slightly irritated bemusement is only growing at the mention of joint custody and visitation rights. Either Chick-fil-et is really going to need to rethink its' business strategy, or these people have some truly unique taste in... pets.

"Yeah," she finally drawls, the words a response to Greg, even if her eyes remain on the dead bird for a moment longer. She's stepping into the back room with far less flouncing than Karl, and returning again significantly quicker than the shop's quirkier employee. The vials of RSO are transferred from her palm to the countertop, and her gaze finally returns to Graham. "You want me to ring him up, or you good?" She asks Greg, flickering a look between the man and the chicken.

Damn chicken.

With Graham safely to the counter there is not much else for Frankie to do but return to it as well, sliding right up to where she'd left the rooster in Greg's loving supervision. Seeing as how nothing bad has happened yet she doesn't seem to see any reason to cut visitation hour short, so leans her hip against the counter to watch the goings on of the others.

No more paint all over the place, Graham safely handled, Scratch in good care, Karl slamming things around, Le...wait, slamming? Frankie looks in the direction that Karl went, "I wouldn't put up with that if I were you." This is spoken to Lex, the Boss, instead of Greg. "I think you should organize a company retreat, complete with trust exercises."

"Um. How much would five ounces run me? And.. thanks. For the number. I'll just.. text him or something." Kass nods to Greg, flicking a glance towards Graham, looking him over. Maybe trying to see how bad he still looks. Then she's quick to drop her gaze back to the counter, standing there, fidgeting lightly. She flinches at Karl's loud noises, but manages to avoid startling like she did at Frankie's entrance. Then her eyes flick to Frankie and Scratch, before finally landing on Lex. Watching the woman handle the vials, then go back to staring at the chicken. Keeping her head down, Kass just tries to quietly wait it out, getting fidgety as she waits.

Why Graham still thinks he's going to get away with stealing shit from Greg is a mystery, but he does. Mind, the dude's wearing a bandage on his 'stealing shit' hand, so this is not the smoothest grab for an extra joint that he makes, and - since he's pretty much rattling the container of pre-rolls with his bandage - he just tucks the stolen joint behind his ear, not even trying to stash it slyly. His shrug says the 'whatever' that he leaves unspoken.

Then he snatches his bag full of goodies. "Ring me up, pssh. Get your people in line, Sumpter. I'mma text you when I'm not at death's door anymore." He manages to dredge a smile up from somewhere. It's a ragged, weary smile, but he shows it to all the ladies in da room on his way out.

He tries to pull the door open first. It refuses to work that way, because it needs to be PUSHED OPEN, you idiot. "I fucking hate your store." With that, he leaves.

Greg grins after Graham, a look of amusement which he shares with Lex. "Put it on his account," he says warmly, with a fond look towards a big yellow sign that advises a fifteen percent interest rate on patient accounts. He looks towards Frankie with a grin. "What, Karl? He's an institution here. I don't know what we'd do without him." The man, the myth, the Karl has disappeared to shirk somewhere, and could not be found for comment at this time.

Kass's question gets his attention back, and he grins. "Hundred-twenty an ounce for the Afghani, but we'll let you have it for five fifty, since it's your first time buying here." At no point in this discourse does Greg ask for any of the medical certification he's meant to be checking for; it doesn't seem to bother him much. "I'll let Bax know you were after him," he tells Kass, as he comes out from behind the counter to walk over to Frankie and wrap his arms around her from behind. "Lexington Estates, would you mind getting our new friend here set up in the system and whatnot? I think it's time for us responsible parents to take Scratch for his walk."

Scratch does nothing, says nothing, but his eternally unmoving expression seems to suggest eagerness.

Grant comes in from the back looking confused and also like he is at the end of a long fucking day. There's an appliance in his hand he's picking at before he jams it back into his ear and up over the top. Violet. Nothing with him stays stock for long. He stops and does a double take at the dead rooster. Pauses and squints carefully at it. Ascertaining it is fallacy and fabrication and not fowl he snorts complimenting Frankie on it. "Cock tease? Nice." He eyes the door behind him murmuring to Greg, "The fuck is wrong with Karl?" He notes Graham leaving but doesn't stop the man on a mission and lifts fingers in a wave to Lex. And then he pauses leaning oooooover the counter to see a Kass getting her collective shit together on the floor. There's a faint grin and chuckle of amusement, "Aw hey, ya found it."

Lex's gaze flickers to Frankie as the woman offers her advice. Pierced features have lapsed from the bemusement regarding the chicken to the annoyingly unreadable stare that is more characteristic of the woman. "You wanna take his place? Things would be a bit less dramatic around here..." A pause, and then a snort at the comment about company retreat. The interaction between Greg and Graham is regarded with a raised eyebrow, and her eyes narrow slightly as Graham makes his talkative departure. All right, one complication down.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck's going on, or do I gotta try and translate it from Karl's version?" That's directed at Greg, though her eyes flicker between the two redheads. Grant's arrival earns an upnod from the woman, and then she's turning a now openly dubious look toward the now-attached Frankie and Greg.

"I come in an hour late, and you people got wounded soldiers, dead chickens, and a flock of redheads running around the place?"

Kass nods to Greg before turning toward Lex, as she's now the 'dealer' to be giving her information to. Reaching for her wallet, Kass pulls out both cash.. and an authorization form. The form is slid across the counter without a word, though perhaps with an embarrassed glance aside. Someone actually is legal to buy! Though it begs the question of which of Washington's approved conditions she has that she has the form for it. She looks up at Grant's appearance and grins, "Hey! Yeah, um... I was actually looking for you. But you know, two birds, one stone.. all that jazz." Her mixed metaphors are just terrible, but she seems genuinely glad to see the neon-haired skater punk. She jostles the bag a bit and offers, "I brought more supplies.. if you wanted to maybe do something. He gave me your number cause you weren't here." She nods to Greg, selling him out in an instant to her fellow street artist. "And I have a favor to ask. Maybe big, maybe not.. kinda depends. But I'm getting some great indica blend if you wanna chill and paint and talk?"

There is a whole lot of mental math happening there, and when Lex suggests that Frankie replace Karl there is a moment where she actually looks like she might be tempted, but then she shakes her head, "Afraid not...unless I can come work just whenever I want, because no one is dropping into the parlor and I haven't had any regulars make appointments."

Said out loud that sounds so dubious as far as things go. But damn does Frankie say it all with a straight face. Despite the fact that Greg has decided that it is time for parental time with Scratch she doesn't reach for the rooster, instead opting for replying to Grant, once more with a straight face, "I never cock tease. That's how you get back handed..."

The question of what the fuck is going on is helpfully left to Greg, and to show just how much she supports him and his ability to give answers, she twists around to give his cheek a kiss, "You got this."

"She's got blue shoes on," Greg supplies helpfully, pointing to Kass. "It was a whole thing." That ought to make everything perfectly clear to everyone. Mentioning the shoes again causes Greg to place a suspicious glare upon them, and he shuffles his feet as though he finds himself far too close to the cerulean menace. "Hmm."

His attention shifts to Grant, and he surrenders a chuckle for Bax's joke, disentwining one of his arms from Frankie to hold out fist for Grant to bump. "Nice one." The question about Karl gets an amused laugh out of Greg, and he shrugs. "Karls gotta Karl," he elucidates. He's a very helpful purveyor of information, the Greg.

"This redhead is with me," he tells Lex with a poke at Frankie's side. If he notices the dubious aspect of her expression, he deigns not to engage it, unless the way he wraps his arms back around Frankie is meant to be her answer. "But we're obviously forming a herd, preparing for stampede," he says of the growing ginger convention.

Grant looks to Lex with that expression of I KNOW!. He sighs and shakes his head ablating accusation from coming at him, "Well... Lex... clearly the world hangs in the balance at your every arrival in effort to put order where there is none like Benoit Mandelbrot of our time or some shit." That heavier sigh is one of commiseration, "I envy you not." Let's be honest all he knows about Mandelbrot likely came from a Jonathon Colton song.

Hands rest akimbo on his hips, possibly to keep his cargo shorts up. One eyebrow holding higher than the other with the swathe of new information not missing where Greg gave out his number. Looking over to their Chronic-in-Chief he grins, "You're my art pimp now?" The comment about the rooster from Frankie brings that easy grin up to his eyes while Greg fills him in on the shoes. He looks from Greg to Kass and then her feet, "Like a Duran Duran song. Blue Shoes on Mondy." Hey when you grow up with profound hearing loss the radio is a hysterical place to entertain yourself. It might not be accurate, but always awesome. "Yeah we can hang in a bit. Puttin in my hours right now so this guy can go fuck off somewhere." i.e. cover for Greg. Looking back at the door he looks to Lex, "We discussing why Karl is Karling?"

"Yeah... fuckin' looks like it," is Lex's slowly spoken reply to Greg's admission of hoarding redheads. Clearly the man's on something. Clearly.

"And yeah, he's right. This place ain't this place without Karl. Even if he's a fucking liability." That last bit is said with a none-too-subtle glance at the back door. Odds are it's not sound proof, and Lex... isn't being quiet. Not shouting, by any means, but certainly not aiming for subtle. Grant's question about Karl earns the neon-haired man a slow nod, and after a mockingly put-upon roll of her eyes, Lex is stepping toward the counter.

"Sorry, sweetheart... got a bit distracted here. You said five ounces?" She questions, tipping her chin toward the strain that Karl flounced out for them. She's sliding the paperwork towards herself without making a show of it. "Just this? Or you fostering Grant's drug habits, too?" That's with a nice pierced-dimple smirk toward the man in question, and a wink, just in case those words hit too low on their own.

"They aren't just blue. They're Super Mario Bros. Just.. you know, the sky is blue. I offered to take them off..." Kass defends her Chuck Taylor's and shifts a bit nervously as her shoes are brought back into the conversation. She looks back to Grant and gives a nod. "You want I should, um.. come back later? Or I can, you know, hang out. For awhile. If nobody minds." She darts a glance towards Greg, then towards Lex. Not entirely sure which of them is actually running things right now. She grips the strap of her messenger bag again and looks to Lex almost pleadingly. Apparently that indica can't get measured out quickly enough. "Yes. Please. Five ounces." She flicks a glance to Grant, then back to Lex, "Uh.. I can. If he wants me to. I'm good for whatever.. " She flicks a glance back to Grant, "Are you purely THC inclined, or do you go for other stuff too?"

This redhead that has been claimed as being part of the newly forming herd reaches out a hand towards Lex, or Scratch. Maybe she's just reaching for Scratch because she picks up the rooster, pulling him in towards her before a hand smooths over the feathers, clear fondness for the stuffed avian in her features.

"Probably good....I'd be a shit employee anyways." Frankie replies with amusement before she takes pity on Kass, glancing at her, then at the shoes in question. "Beware girls wearing blue shoes." She reaches a hand back, patting Greg's cheek to perhaps indicate that this was just for him, and not, say, anyone else and blue shoes. "Plus don't eat chocolate from there." Where ever there is, that one she has to check with him on, judging by the question in her eyes when she looks at him.

Then there's a new one that is coming, "And don't buy a white dress on Sunday."

Greg shakes his head regretfully towards Kass. "Once a girl in blue shoes, always a girl in blue shoes, I think. I'll have to consult my medium." He directs another little poke at Frankie while she goes on. "I dunno where 'there' is," he says with a shrug, "So 'there' is everywhere. Isn't that a song?" He looks over towards Grant; if anyone's going to validate him on a misremembered song lyric, it's Bax. But then Frankie delivers a third commandment, and Greg's attention snaps back to her with a serious frown. "No buying white dresses on Sunday." He repeats it solemnly, something not to forgotten. If precedent serves he'll probably turn up with a black wedding dress for Frankie now, or possibly a tuxedo.

Grant looks to Frankie and arches an eyebrow, "Well I was going to but ow you got me. I'll go Tuesday. And I get all all my chocolate from Corey." Boy is devastating." He takes his army jacket off and hangs it on a hook and wonders curiously, Wait buying or wearing?" He pauses and his head bops murmuring trying to remember. Looking to Greg I think it's the Beatles man. I will beeee there, and everywhere. So there is everywheeeere." Yeah he should let Daisy do the singing. Turning his arms fold as he leans on the glass countertop. "Well I mean I gotta work right now but I'm pretty down for painting. You should see the project i'm working on with the half pipe out back. It's pretty wicked." He pauses and looks to Lex and Greg, "You thought I should do up somethin for Halloween?

"Did you drug him?" Lex asks flatly of Frankie, studying the woman a wry curiosity. As for her question? It seems backed by curiosity more than anything accusatory.

"Uh... we'll go with your order for now, mm? If this one's hangin' around in the whole ... professional sense... I'd rather he be able to speak clearly." She refers to Grant without actually looking at the man. Instead, her hands move quickly as she weighs out the indicated product, and after casting a side-eye between Kass's paperwork and Kass herself, she's reaching into an unseen drawer to pull out a few gummy bears, which are then offered to Kass, palm-up. "On the house. Give it a few minutes, and this shit will seem normal. Except the chicken. We're gonna have to talk about the fucking chicken..."

Weed, complimentary wraps, and on-the-house edibles offered to Kass, Lex is tipping Greg another glance. "You... doing okay, buddy?"

"You can." Frankie points out to Grant, "You're fine buying a white dress on Sunday..." She tilts her head, glancing at him, up down, then she narrows her eyes as she seems to consider something. There is a faint nod, then she points out, "I would suggest avoiding getting the fish."

No further explanation, because Lex's question causes her to glance over, then she glances at Greg, assuming that is the him that she is meaning, then she shakes her head, "I didn't drug him, no." She leans her weight into Greg, rubbing the top of her head against his chin and jaw, "Mind control."

Kass is more than happy to fork over the cash, taking up the bag and moving to tuck it into her messenger bag with the rattle cans and acrylics. The offer of the edibles has both brows lifting, her eyes darting from Lex to Greg, then back to Lex. Nodding slowly, she reaches out and takes them with a murmured, "Thank you." Its sincere, whatever misgivings she may have. Without hesitation, the gummies are tossed into her mouth and she's chewing on them slowly, making sure to grind them up good before swallowing. Looking back to Grant, Kass gives a nod, "I'd like that. To see what you're working on, I mean. Also, um. I have a favor to ask." Because she totally didn't mention that before, right? She flicks another glance towards Lex, smiling faintly. Lex is apparently good people.

Glancing to Greg, she shrugs and nods, clearly still not understanding why this is a thing but willing to roll with it, "Blue shoes, then. I'll make sure to wear the really blue ones next time I'm in here." Since its apparently tied to Greg, which ties it to this place. She glances to the chicken and asks, "What's wrong with the chicken? I think he's cute." Then she's looking back to Grant, "So, uh, I got a job. But its somewhere that has a.. ummm, different kind of dress code? And they told me I could be... creative, with it. So I was thinking maybe you could help me with some body paint? For work? And then there's a bit thing they're doing for Halloween, too, and I was gonna see if you'd help me with that costume, too. Since you've been into 3D stuff lately, I figured maybe.. a 3D canvas might be cool?"

Greg nods contentedly, echoing Frankie dumbly. "Mind control." He looks like a pretty willing victim, anyway, cuddling Frankie in an absolutely revolting public display of affection. He bounces his chin idly on the top of her head. "If I do a good enough job I've been promised a private grave when I'm sacrificed," he tells Lex. "I'm really excited about it."

He squints towards Kass as though he can't make up his mind if she's fucking with him, but he slowly nods. "Blue shoes are lit, it's not your fault." He lets go of Frankie long enough to reach over the counter and grab his white camo backpack, his skateboard strapped to the front, and shoulder it. "You want me to lug our cock to the van, babe?" he asks Frankie brightly.

Grant smoothly tells Lex, "Nah, Greggo did that to himself. It's been hilarious." He watches like all the world is his sitcom in the round but pauses at the human sacrifice. No he pauses at private grave and looks a little bit like a kicked puppy, "You don't like being our roomie, homie? Audible gasp, man." Looking over to Frankie and Greg he grins wryly, "This is the most adorable brain controlling I seen in a bit." Sliding a look back to Kass he arches an eyebrow, "Oh no shit? Well I ain't gonna say no to a gal that lets me paint her like a sea creature and stuff. Yeah that sounds pretty awesome. I got an airbrush. We'll have to look into some of that... they got a people paint. Like alcohol based makeup and stuff. Ruby know. I'll find out. What'chu thinkin?"

"It'll be great.." Frankie has a whole lot of opinions on things, mostly on the grave situation that has been brought up. She gives Scratch a final hug, but then she turns to hold the rooster out towards Greg, "Please be gentle." She gives this one, final, look to the glorious stuffed creature. Then she's glancing towards the others, "I hate to drag him away, but we have to go tuck Scratch in, then find a dark alley to collect the next sacrifice from."

Grinning, Kass seems both relieved and excited that Grant's on board with the body art. She gives a quick nod and launches into her 'plan', "So like.. for most days it can just be whatever takes your fancy that day, right? Like.. I gotta wear these, uhhhhhh, itty-bitty shorts and like... a small top thingy? And I figure if you want to just paint me up however strikes your fancy that day, I can match the clothes to go with it. And then for Halloween, they're doing like.. spooky stuff? And I'm supposed to get a mask from someone.. so then if you could maybe paint me up to match the mask and I can do like.. accessory stuff to make it really kick ass." Her hands get moving and she's on a roll, eyes gleaming (only partly from those edibles starting to take effect), super excitable now that she's got something she's really interested in. When Frankie and Greg are readying to head out, she flashes them a grin and waves, offering to Greg, "I've got a pair that are like... metallic blue vinyl? I can wear those next time. They're pretty cool. I thought about getting the electric blue glitter Chucks too. But I've already got the pink ones so maybe not. It was nice meeting you both!" Then she's turning back to Grant and Lex with a nearly manic grin.

Greg carefully collects the family cock, brandishing it to help clear a path as he turns to start walking toward the door. "Well everyone, it's been real. Be good or be good at it," he offers to the general group, and the universally-recognized deuces are flipped for just an instant before he returns both hands to the careful handling of the big black cock. "I thought we could let Scratch pick the sacrifice this time," he tells Frankie, then he opens the door and holds it for her, rotating the stuffed rooster around to give him a good look at everyone. "See you at home, Grant," he fires towards the magenta-haired artist.

Lex is finishing up the transaction, and then tipping a none-too-subtle look between Grant and Kass as they begin their discussion of '3D art'. "I'll be in the back making Karl miserable," she offers the pair, smirking just a bit as she turns to disappear through the door that Karl huffed his way past a few minutes before. Hard to say who to pity more -- Karl or Lex.

"I guess....if you think he's ready." There is a look towards the cock in question, but then Frankie nods in acceptance of Greg and his opinion, "Alright, Scratch can pick." She gives those left inside a wave, then she moves out through the door that is being held open for her, a slight bounce in her step. Evidently going to dark alleys to find sacrifices makes her a very happy girl.

Grant deadpans without missing a beat, "You got a job as a librarian? Good to know." He doesn't have even an eight of teh energy of the room, but he makes up for it in other ways like being a level 11 Chillaxean Elemental. The world might spin but he is just along for the damn ride. The drawl stays in the pocket of amusement, "Yeah I mean ai'ght." Looking to Lex he arches an eyebrow, "Find out what he wants for food between bitchings. Like take a brownie back to him and tell em t' like... relax. holy shit." Looking to Frankie and Greg he tells her, "Remember, it's a school night. You two kids have fun." Pulling a stool over he plants his ass and pulls out his sketchbook. "I'll hold down the fort."