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Calamity:: hey i want those comics u said u had
Sturm:: theyre in a box in my fuckin truk not my fault u havnt got them from me
C:: im trying to be nice and not break into ur truck
S:: not what i meant dumbass
where u wanna meet for them
C:: somewhere where u can get me hot chocolate pls?
S:: lol somehere i can get u hot chocolate dont u ever have money kid?
C:: in this economy?
S:: ...
fair
C:: :p
so do i get hot chocolate or not
S:: yea whatever lets meet up at the coffee place on 6th
Sturm texts Calamity the address of the place and heads on over to the diner on 6th. She manages to get some curbside parking (a minor miracle, to be sure) not too far away, and she's able to keep an eye on her truck from the booth by the big window. She's already got a steaming cup of coffee in front of her - and placed an order for Calamity's hot chocolate, as agreed upon, to be delivered to the table upon her young ward's arrival. The white longbox of comics is settled in the seat opposite her, and she doesn't look nearly as pissed off as she has been for the past week and a half.
Not that Calamity would know, since they've probably been pretty Not Around for the past week and a half (what do they get up to, when Sturm's not actively looking for them??) They slip into the diner, hands in pockets and hood over their head, looking unassuming and forlorn. Their shoulders go up in greeting when they see Sturm, and make a beeline for her. And the comics.
"Drang." Sturm's voice is a low growl - just like it always is. She shifts the box with a booted foot so that there's room on the seat for Calamity. "Took you long enough, kid. Don't text me for a week and suddenly you're asking me for my stash?"
"I was busy, god," they reply with a huff, but there's no heat behind it. Just their normal back-and-forth. "Plus you said it would be a while before you got 'em so I was waiting."
"Yeah I guess that's fair," she scrowls. It has been a hell of a week - it's a wonder she even went to get them. Probably wouldn't without Mearc, honestly. "Well, that's all my comic shit from when I was a kid. Should have the whole run of Jack Knight as Starman in there."
"Sweet." Their eyes light up - a rare display of excitement from them, and they carefully take the lid off the box.
The box is lined with various late 80's/early 90's Vertigo titles, including Starman, Sandman, Lucifer, Books of Magic, Hellblazer, and Doom Patrol. There's some primo shit in there if someone wanted to maybe sell it off - though the bulk of it is nowhere near as valuable to a collector as it is to Sturm. She... almost looks proud - either of what she's collected, or of Calamity for taking an interest in it.
Calamity picks through the comics, hot chocolate forgotten. They also seem to have forgotten to replace their cool and unaffected exterior, and are grinning widely as they thumb through everything. "Fuck, this...I can't wait to read all this. Thank you."
"Don't get shit on them, you hear? I'm gonna be pissed off if you got, like, cheeto dust and shit on 'em when I get 'em back." In spite of the string of profanity, there's no real harshness in her voice. "... but no problem. Probably better that they aren't wasting away in a closet."
"Cheetos are gross." Calamity makes a face. "Not gonna get anything on 'em, okay? Promise." They huff, and carefully open the first page of the first issue of Starman. Like, super carefully. Like they're dealing with ancient texts, rather than a few decades old comic.
"Look, teenagers eat cheetos. You can't be much older than nineteen at this point, right?" She snorts. "That's still cheeto range as far as I'm concerned." She probably looks more fond about Calamity's reverent behavior with her comics than she has been about anything in recent memory, though, so her scowl lets up - leaving a neutral expression in it's usual place.
"Ugh," they scoff again halfheartedly. "They're fucking gross. Man, Mike at Amalgam is gonna be so fucking jealous when I show him these, I was talking Starman up there the other day..."
"Who?" Sturm quirks an eyebrow, but realizes that Amalgam is the LCBS for Calamity's area. "Hey, don't you dare let anybody convince you to poach these. I will drop your ass to the mat faster than a live grenade, you hear me?"
Calamity actually looks a little horrified. "I'm gonna show 'em off I'm not gonna just pawn 'em off!"
Now, Sturm has been a tightly coiled spring for the entirety of the time Calamity has known her - and she doesn't relax easily - but she does relax as she peers at the little pyromaniac's expression. "... okay. Sorry for kickin' down your door there. I've just been jumpy lately, I guess."
"Yeah, apparently." They pout. "Maybe gimme some credit or somethin'." They gently place Starman back in the box, and even put the cover back on, before taking a sip of their hot chocolate.
"So..." She's obviously not great about subtly changing subjects like this. She takes a sip of her coffee before continuing. "What've you been up to, huh?"
A shrug. "Nothin'. Tryin' to find a fucking job. Got an interview at Target, dunno if I'll go though." They wrinkle their nose.(edited)
"Target, huh?" Sturm inclines her head, looking down at Calamity with her heavy-lidded eyes. It's not intended to be a condescending gesture, but it could absolutely be read as one if Calamity didn't know her as well as they do. "You, uhh. Think about maybe Starbucks or something, too?"
"U g h." That gets a big eye roll. "I uh...may go look in the Gayborhood. If I gotta." Clearly it's on the same level as Target or Starbucks, to them.
This response was not what she'd been expecting. "... what about the comic shop? You know them - and you know your shit."
They pause, and frown before licking their hot chocolate mustache away and then wiping their face with their sleeve. "Uh. I mean I guess I never thought about it? They're prob'ly not hiring though."
"Can't hurt to ask. Lots of those little places keep people's information on file so they can call around for new hires ASAP when a position opens up." Sturm fixes Calamity a fond look as they clean off their lip. "... better than getting into trouble."
"...I don't want a job like that though. Fucking...I go to bed when people are getting up for work."
"... you could work the afternoon to close shift? If they're open late, that lets you have some of your natural awake time. If you want it."
Calamity grimaces, and takes a sip of hot chocolate. "Yeah I guess..." they don't seem convinced.
Sturm is quiet for a considerable while. When she speaks up, her voice is soft - far softer than her usual growl. "... would it make you happy? To do something like that?"
"Happy?" They scoff and shrug.
"Don't be a dipshit, Drang. Just answer the question." There it is. She's back.
"I don't fuckin' know, I don't think working anywhere's gonna make me happy. That's not the point, right?"
"... guess not." Sturm cedes the point. "... but just now was the most excited I think I've ever seen you. That's probably not nothing."
"Yeah, 'cause comics are pretty cool. Not selling comics." They let out a derisive sniff.
"Yeah, but... if you sell them, that means you get to read them and talk about them all day."
beat.
"When was the last time you walked into that comic shop and the chick at the counter wasn't reading something?"
"She's always reading something, sometimes she doesn't even notice me." It may be a point of pride that they can get into places without being noticed.
Sturm just lets that statement sit there in the air between them as if waiting for Calamity to finish jerking off about how stealthy they are, and realize what that means.
"...Okay fine so I could also read comics all day if I worked there." They throw a hand out in kind of a 'whatever' motion, and spoon some of the whipped cream out of their mug to eat.
"Seems like a good gig if you ask me, kid." Sturm shrugs. "Wish I'd had that gig when I was a kid, even."
"They're prob'ly not even hiring." It sounds like a plea, almost. Like they don't wanna start to get hopeful about it.
"Don't make me go fuckin' ask. You wanna be the kid who has their mom or older sister come in to help them apply for a job?" Sturm levies the threat at Calamity with all the intensity and weight that she might have made a threat of physical violence.
"Fuck, fine, I'll find out." They roll their eyes, choosing to get angry rather than get scared. Or they're putting the veneer of anger over their fear. Either way.
"Good." She leans back in her booth seat after draining the last bit of her coffee to hide the not-frown on her face. "Do you need a ride home? So you don't have to walk carrying that fuckin' box?"
"No I'm fine." They say it quickly, an automatic response.
"Kid. Just let me give you a ride home. That box is like fuckin' 20 years old. It's liable to fall apart while you're walking and I'll be mad if you bend the corners." She quirks an eyebrow.
"I'm fine, I got my backpack." It is a big backpack. When was the last time Calamity let Sturm see where they were living, though? Have they ever?
"Kid, this fuckin' box is practically bigger than you. It's not gonna fit in your backpack unless it's bigger on the fuckin' inside."
They squirm, visibly uncomfortable. "...Okay. I guess."
"Good."
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