peckenpaugh | (no subject)

who: Trudy & Kermie
what: Thrifting for some real ?treasures? and ?trouble?
when: Sunday, Sept 22, when they surely had nothing better to be doing.
where: Spellunking.
warnings: These thrifted ?treasures? are weird but not nearly as freaky as what Armani got.

Kermit can’t take his eye off this belt buckle. But to be fair, the belt buckle won’t take its eye off him either. It either likes him, hates him, or it’s trying to communicate telepathically with him.

"Hey," he whispers to the nearest fellow in thrifting. He’s a little concerned that if he talks too loud he’ll upset the eyebelt. "You think Timotheye knows this guy?"

Trudy looks up from the skirt in her hand, seemingly startled from intense concentration, but also doesn't seem to think that this is a strange question at all. "Hm. I don't know, though it doesn't seem fair to assume that all eyeballs know each other, you know?" She puts the skirt back on the rack, deciding it isn't up to her standards. "Is it sentient?"

This is a good point. The last thing Kermit wants to be is a disembodied eyeball racist. He’s really not sure how many disembodied eyeballs there are in this or any other world.

"What's the difference between sentient and watching my every move?” If it’s sentient, it seems kind of cruel to carry him (or her! or them!) around on his belt. It might even be some wizard crime to take the poor little eye into the bathroom.

"A security camera watches your every move, but it isn't sentient," Trudy answers, leaning over to get a closer look at the belt buckle. "Can you speak?" she asks it. Like the Turing Test, asking a possible sentient magical object questions isn't a perfect methodology. Still, it's a good place to start.

The eyebelt turns its attention to Trudy and blinks, once, very slowly. Too slow. Unsettlingly slow.

"Maybe it’s super leisurely morse code,” Kermit suggests, still stage-whispering, though it’s hard to tell when your stage whisper is as loud as your average person’s shout.

"We can't discount the possibility," Trudy answers. 'We', because they're both in this adventure together now. "Maybe you should buy it and introduce it to Timotheye?"

Kermit lets out a dramatic gasp. One that (briefly) catches the (barely interested) attention of Kyle behind the counter. "What if they fell in love?" he coos, hand to his heart. He’s absolutely buying this horrifying creation now. Hopefully it’s not actually sentient, because it’s got about three days before it gets lost in his hamper or bed, never to be seen again. "Do you think Mr. Zahidi would be absolutely devastated?"

Trudy purses her lips and tilts her head. She could not possibly care less about romantic matters in general, but the idea of two magical eye beings falling in love holds her interest from an academic perspective. "Only one way to find out."

Kermit, conversely, cares deeply about the love lives of two magical eye beings. Trapped in a world that’s not theirs! Lost and lonely, unable to communicate, looking for someone just like them! Oh, how romantic. They must be rescued.

"Oh I can’t wait to write their love story," Kermit sighs, dreamily. "We need to find a notebook."

Trudy wrinkles her nose at the idea of writing a love story, but she does like notebooks. "Alright, let's see what we can find." She doesn't wait for Kermit before she turns to head towards the racks holding papers and notebooks and tape dispensers without tape, along with anything else that could be vaguely categorized as a school/office supply.

"Do you think it’ll taint the experiment if we play them sexy-time music?" Kermit muses, already distracted by shiny treasures. There’s an album of Malagasy Marvin Gaye covers stuck between the shelves here and it has to be a sign. He starts tugging at the case, certain that the only reason it hasn’t been extricated yet is because no one’s wanted it badly enough.

Trudy pulls her wand out of her hair, because there's no reason to do things like this if one doesn't have to. Before she can help Kermit extract it, though, his tugging makes the shelf wobble, and something from the very top comes plummeting down. Before it can crash on top of Kermit's head, Trudy casts a quick arresto momentum. It's… a jar of dental molds? "Neat!"

There are two things Kermit does not appreciate near enough: how there's a spell for literally anything, and how close he was to getting a Phineas Gage-esque injury, if Phineas Gage worked in a dental lab.

He does appreciate the absolute hell out of this weird jar of teeth, though.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asks Trudy, and it's one hundred percent impossible that she is.

"That I wonder what Kyle would charge for the whole jar?" she asks.

"So we can make a bunch of dentures and commit bite-related crimes! Yeah!" Kermit is no longer trying to keep his voice and Kyle can probably hear every word he’s saying.

This explanation doesn't dissuade Trudy, which probably means she shouldn't be allowed to hang out with Kermit. "Bite-related crimes? Like what?"

"Breaking into the Gastrognome to take a bite out of all the cakes and cookies," Kermit answers, all too readily. "Bite marks is how they got Bundy, we can’t take the same chance."

"Oh, you're right," Trudy agrees with obvious delight. "But can we somehow involve the belt buckle? Maybe it could keep an eye out for us?" Oh no, she looks even more delighted with that one.

Kermit grins and glances around for a handkerchief or scarf or, well, this purple bandana will do. "Don’t worry, McGilligorry," he says, threading the belt buckle onto the bandana. "Because I’ve got an eye," Kermit wraps the bandana around his forehead, "on the back of my head."

And it’s really cold.

Trudy beams, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. "Kermit, I love it," she declares, and unfortunately, she's not joking or being ironic. "We've got to buy these things before anyone else tries to poach our prizes." As if that's a real danger.

"I will guard these creepy little treasures with my life, Trudes McGudes," Kermit says with the utmost gravitas. "Now SALLY FORTH, toward the—" He spins to point at the checkout counter, his gestures too big for a cramped space, and an elbow knocks right into a shelf full of small ceramic animals.

"Yeah, let’s check out now," he continues, adjusting his voice to a stage whisper-shout.

Trudy quickly stills the ceramics with a flick of her wand and nods. "Let's go, Kermit. We have important work to do."

A ceramic seal crashes to the ground right behind Kermit. Yes. Work. That’s exactly why they need to go.