[She hadn't been keen on keeping company here. Far from it. She doesn't trust this lanky motor mouth, with his too easy conversation and poofy hair, but Fukawa is spooked. Well and truly.
If the dream hadn't been enough warning, the blood sucking door would have been a hair-raising tip off. She's in a foreign land with foreign forces, surrounded by strangers and possibly? Maybe, sort of, even if every fibre of her being is screaming "Impossible! Impossible!", even if the implications stretch farther than she can imagine? She might have gone back in time.
She's only half-listening to the boy's ramblings, eyes darting here and there and spotting relic upon relic. He seemed mild-mannered company so she thought she'd endure it for the time being, but he says nothing useful at all. He's treating this like some lazy Saturday stroll. The ice cream parlour comment has her rolling her eyes.]
Wh-why? Did some kid get sick and puke all over you?
[Perhaps ungracious, but there were worse places to work than a sweet shop. He needs a reality check if a part-time job for numbskulls can send him running.
Then he starts in on the money. Fukawa's scowl falters. She looks down at the gift card, turning it back to front.]
What? B-but...Well, how would I know that?! I can't convert money in my head! [Even if they sat on par, the American Dollar ran on a different metric than the Yen. Fukawa grimaces and grips the card tight. It's the only currency she's got, it can't be wasted under any circumstance.] And how can you be sure? It's c-clearly some old timey set up they have here. Maybe a hundred dollars is worth more now than it would b-be normally.
Mallrats
If the dream hadn't been enough warning, the blood sucking door would have been a hair-raising tip off. She's in a foreign land with foreign forces, surrounded by strangers and possibly? Maybe, sort of, even if every fibre of her being is screaming "Impossible! Impossible!", even if the implications stretch farther than she can imagine? She might have gone back in time.
She's only half-listening to the boy's ramblings, eyes darting here and there and spotting relic upon relic. He seemed mild-mannered company so she thought she'd endure it for the time being, but he says nothing useful at all. He's treating this like some lazy Saturday stroll. The ice cream parlour comment has her rolling her eyes.]
Wh-why? Did some kid get sick and puke all over you?
[Perhaps ungracious, but there were worse places to work than a sweet shop. He needs a reality check if a part-time job for numbskulls can send him running.
Then he starts in on the money. Fukawa's scowl falters. She looks down at the gift card, turning it back to front.]
What? B-but...Well, how would I know that?! I can't convert money in my head! [Even if they sat on par, the American Dollar ran on a different metric than the Yen. Fukawa grimaces and grips the card tight. It's the only currency she's got, it can't be wasted under any circumstance.] And how can you be sure? It's c-clearly some old timey set up they have here. Maybe a hundred dollars is worth more now than it would b-be normally.