( the song in question takes a moment or two before it really gets under her skin, beat thumping against her ears until it starts to echo in the tapping of her palms against her thighs, fingertips rolling against an invisible keyboard in harmony. when the music quiets, her headphones slip off again to rest against her neck; it's catchy enough to leave her humming the melody for a few seconds afterwards. )
Everything's fine, Baby, don't worry. ( she's in good spirits this morning, cheerful and easy-going; there's no need for alarm. ) Just wanted some company.
( speaking of breakfast foods... )
Are you hungry? I can go make a run if you're going to be here for a while.
[ Leaning back against the counter, Baby pulls himself to sit atop it, Otis coming to lie down on the floor just under him, the two of them already growing into habits with one another. ]
I'm good, actually. It's nice to see you. Feel like I'm always just crossing paths with you, even when we're in the same building.
[ He smiles, running a hand through his hair. It's getting a bit long, he notices. ]
Not that - I guess it's my fault, too, for not being home that much.
It does kind of feel that way sometimes. ( there's a beat, as kimberly considers it, but it's a companionable sort of silence. it's easy to just be with baby, to enjoy his company even when doing something as simple as hanging out in a record store. ) I don't think it's anybody's fault, though.
( the answer is, at least in kimberly's mind, blissfully simple. ) We just need to hang out more. You and me. ( boyfriends and car club and roommates and everyone else can wait. )
Nah, wouldn't blame anyone. [ They're busy; they have jobs and significant others and events to attend and friends to spend time with. ] Some days, I barely see Robbie, and I live with the guy.
[ Shrug. They can always find ways to see each other; like right now, Kimberly in the store, Otis curled up between them, music in the background, happy, content, simple.
He has to ask: ]
We talking as friends, right? Because I think we should make it a standing weekly date to go for breakfast. Or for a ride, you still haven't tried driving my car.
( she can't help but laugh, leaning over just enough to nudge him with her shoulder. it's a quiet, sleepy sound, but enough to show she doesn't take offense as his question. )
Yeah, as friends. ( in another time and place, maybe it would have been different. ) Breakfast dates sound great. Breakfast friend dates, even. You can bring me new music for my Zumba class, and I'll bring you... hm. I'll figure something out.
( she doesn't have very much to offer in that regard, but maybe she can think of something he might like. )
Are you sure you want to let me behind the wheel? Robbie won't even let me breathe on his, and it's indestructible.
[ It's a good thing it doesn't turn awkward at his question - he realizes a little too late that it could have been taken the wrong way, but at least - with Kimberly, it feels like they've navigated these waters already. They landed firmly on the 'friends' shore, which works for them. ]
Okay then. Let's do that.
[ At the mention of Robbie's car, Baby chuckles, shrugging. ]
He's precious about it, I guess. I'm used to going from car to car, so it's not like I have a deep bond or something. I mean, I like it, but you're not going to wreck it, are ya?
I dunno. ( a soft shrug of her shoulders in reply, a mirror of baby's easy reply. ) To be honest, I don't really know how to drive a stick.
( it's not like it's something that's taught to girls in angel grove. she understood the basics of it, the general idea, but in practice? not so much. )
[ He can't help the surprise - she looked like the kind of girl who would know how to, for some reason. Maybe because she reminds him of Debbie, in some ways - the independence, the love of music, the eyes that seem to see beyond what he does. ]
I'll absolutely teach you, yeah. Maybe I should start my own driving school.
Is that really that surprising? ( she's smiling, but there's a bit of quiet to her movements as she brushes a lock of hair behind her ears. she can't help but think of jason and his truck, billy and the van — things left behind in her staying here. ) I mean, guys drove pick-up trucks in Angel Grove but it's not like they were inviting me to drive them or anything.
( the enthusiasm of his teaching offer, though, helps her to swallow down any uncomfortable feelings that may have crept up thinking of home. )
You should totally start your own school. I'll be your first.
( no double entendre needed. but it's probably there all the same. )
I guess it's not. Surprising, I mean. It's just that I've been driving stick since I was ten, so I always think everybody can.
[ It's on him, really.
Chuckling, he looks around the store, its cozy atmosphere, the shelves and shelves of vinyls, of equipment, like a relic in a world of technology. Baby is pretty proud of being able to work here, like a reject of Empire Records. ]
Even if my other two jobs aren't an every day thing like B-Sides is, I don't know where I'd find the time, really.
no subject
Everything's fine, Baby, don't worry. ( she's in good spirits this morning, cheerful and easy-going; there's no need for alarm. ) Just wanted some company.
( speaking of breakfast foods... )
Are you hungry? I can go make a run if you're going to be here for a while.
no subject
I'm good, actually. It's nice to see you. Feel like I'm always just crossing paths with you, even when we're in the same building.
[ He smiles, running a hand through his hair. It's getting a bit long, he notices. ]
Not that - I guess it's my fault, too, for not being home that much.
no subject
( the answer is, at least in kimberly's mind, blissfully simple. ) We just need to hang out more. You and me. ( boyfriends and car club and roommates and everyone else can wait. )
If you wanted to, I mean.
no subject
[ Shrug. They can always find ways to see each other; like right now, Kimberly in the store, Otis curled up between them, music in the background, happy, content, simple.
He has to ask: ]
We talking as friends, right? Because I think we should make it a standing weekly date to go for breakfast. Or for a ride, you still haven't tried driving my car.
no subject
Yeah, as friends. ( in another time and place, maybe it would have been different. ) Breakfast dates sound great. Breakfast friend dates, even. You can bring me new music for my Zumba class, and I'll bring you... hm. I'll figure something out.
( she doesn't have very much to offer in that regard, but maybe she can think of something he might like. )
Are you sure you want to let me behind the wheel? Robbie won't even let me breathe on his, and it's indestructible.
no subject
Okay then. Let's do that.
[ At the mention of Robbie's car, Baby chuckles, shrugging. ]
He's precious about it, I guess. I'm used to going from car to car, so it's not like I have a deep bond or something. I mean, I like it, but you're not going to wreck it, are ya?
no subject
( it's not like it's something that's taught to girls in angel grove. she understood the basics of it, the general idea, but in practice? not so much. )
You feel like teaching me, professor?
no subject
[ He can't help the surprise - she looked like the kind of girl who would know how to, for some reason. Maybe because she reminds him of Debbie, in some ways - the independence, the love of music, the eyes that seem to see beyond what he does. ]
I'll absolutely teach you, yeah. Maybe I should start my own driving school.
no subject
( the enthusiasm of his teaching offer, though, helps her to swallow down any uncomfortable feelings that may have crept up thinking of home. )
You should totally start your own school. I'll be your first.
( no double entendre needed. but it's probably there all the same. )
no subject
[ It's on him, really.
Chuckling, he looks around the store, its cozy atmosphere, the shelves and shelves of vinyls, of equipment, like a relic in a world of technology. Baby is pretty proud of being able to work here, like a reject of Empire Records. ]
Even if my other two jobs aren't an every day thing like B-Sides is, I don't know where I'd find the time, really.