Hell In A Handbasket

Cameron's Cult Classics

This store is appropriately wall to wall films. There are very few empty spaces on the brick walls, the majority taken up by posters and wall racks. There are even racks of movies in the aisles, although it's not incredibly crowded. There's ample leg room for multiple patrons. Most of the films aren't everyone's cup of tea. They veer very far from mainstream, with large sections devoted to surrealist works, horror, and foreign films. There's only one rack that has the more familiar new releases, and a sign hangs above it reading Vanilla Releases. Near the entrance sits the counter, giving the clerk a bird's eye view of the entire store. Behind the desk is a door that leads into a smaller room which houses all of the actual copies of videos and DVDs. Towards the back of the store is a short corridor bathed in red light. Above the entrance to it hangs a sign that says in bold red lettering: Den of Sin. A smaller sign beneath it indicates that no one under the age of eighteen is allowed beyond that point.

With the next day being Monday, most everyone has returned their videos. The store is empty. Dead. Zilch. Zip. Nil. None. Zero. Except for Bailey. She has free reign of the place. She's managed to put away all of her returns and dust the shelves. Now she's enjoying a bag of red licorice and a two liter of Dr. Pepper. The dinner of champions. She sits perched behind the counter, Dario Argento's classic Suspiria playing loudly — and rather, ahem, colourfully over the screen. Gratuitous gore for all to see!

It has proven to be a very…interesting day for the man known as Hyde Blakeley. One night of random sex. One latte all over his person. And now? One overwhelming desire to watch a bad horror flick. He is freshly showered when the man wanders inside Cameron's Cult Classics, a lit cigarette sticking out of his mouth and his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Curiously, dark eyes examine his surroundings, passing right over Bailey without much care. Silently, he begins to trek to the shelves of movies as he attempts to decide what exactly he's in the mood for.

Bailey hates when she has to do this. She does, but she has to. "You can't smoke in here!" She calls out to Hyde as she takes an ashtray from underneath the counter. One that's full of ashes. "Please deposit your cigarette into the ashtray sir. And let me know if you need help finding anything!" Bailey has managed to say all of this without batting too much of an eyelash and barely looking away from her TV screen. Because sometimes technicolor blood is just more interesting than hooligans with lit cigarettes.

Hyde scowls slightly, pursing his lips as he removes the cigarette from his mouth and stares at it in a rather thoughtful fashion. His eyes slide from the cigarette over to Bailey then, a low grunt emitting from him when he notes her lack of attention. "Yeah. Sure." Except, Hyde isn't depositing the cigarette in the tray. In fact, he's continuing on as though he didn't hear her at all, still puffing away in a defiant fashion.

"It's not in the ashtray," Bailey says matter-of-factly. She turns and looks over at Hyde, biting a bit of licorice off. "I'm charging you a dollar extra on whatever you rent. Not that it'll help with the predicament I'll be in if there's a surprise inspection." She nods over towards the 'no smoking' sign all in red behind the counter before turning back to her video. She doesn't seem /too/ worried about a surprise inspection… for a moment or two. Then the paranoia of her own words seeps in and she starts to really bite that licorice vindictively.

"I'm quite aware of that." Hyde drawls, arching a brow over in the employee's direction. "But what are you going to do to stop me? I'll tell you what. Give me a dollar, and I'll put it out. But, if you need the extra buck so badly, that's fine. What, they not pay you enough at this dump?" He finally finds a movie that catches his fancy, and he grabs hold of a copy of 'Pan's Labyrinth'.

Bailey turns and gives Hyde /the look/. The look that most men fear and retreat at. In her response, it seems just to be a reaction. "It's just store policy. I'm doing my job. Because I like the meager paycheck I get." For a moment she looks like she might cry before she goes back to roughly eating her licorice and watching the TV. "You don't have to be such a dick," she mutters almost indistinguishably beneath her breath.

Hyde is not most men. He doesn't even flinch at the glower, doesn't even bat an eyelid in her direction. "It's retarded. Fuck store policy." He declares dispassionately, making his way at a restless pace down another row. "Ah, I don't, no. But what fun would that be? You guys got Evil Dead in here?" Fed up with fruitlessly searching, he ends up instead looking to the employee, a hand scratching at the back of his head.

Bailey pushes the pause button on her film and steps out from behind the counter. Despite the fact that she's generally not dressed to impress at work, she's decided to make an effort today. She wears a black sleeveless dress with a pattern of red cherries on it, the material perhaps a little tight around the hips. To top it off, there's a pair of sandals. She moves over towards one of the sections and motions to the video case. "And all subsequent sequels, yes. I didn't peg you for a Bruce Campbell man, personally. You strike me more as a Steven Seagall guy."

"Steven Seagall? Nah. Too…Asian." Hyde doesn't care that his words can be possible taken as offensive. Soon after Bailey emerges from behind her counter, the man follows after her at a close distance to the shelf, then deciding to reach over her to grab the intended movie cases. "Ash had a chainsaw for a hand. A chick was raped by a tree. There is no beating that kind of entertainment, thank you." With that satisfied grumble, he stares at the cases in a curious fashion.

She snorts at his remark about him being too Asian, though doesn't immediately comment. It's hardly the first mildly (possibly) racist comment she's ever heard in her life. After a while in the big city, she's gotten a bit desensitized. "I'm glad to know that you set the bar for your personal entertainment with chainsaws and rape," she murmurs in a dry tone before she leans back against one of the walls and crosses her arms over her chest. "So, do you need help finding anything else, or is that all the rape and chainsaw goodness you can muster for one night?"

"Yeah, something like that. I'm a sick motherfucker." Hyde drawls, slouching in that 'too cool for school' manner that he has perfected since his time in secondary school. "Mhmm? This ought to hold me over for the afternoon, I figure. Unless…heh. What'll you help me find?" His eyes slide over towards Bailey at this time, his stare intense and unfaltering, almost offensive in its directness.

Despite how terribly red her cheeks become, Bailey points with a slightly quivering finger towards the Den of Sin. "The porn is back there, but I'll have to see some ID. And I'm not helping you find anything back there, but if you're in there for more than ten minutes, I call the police to help you out. Store policy." She smiles at him aS sweetly as possible before heading back over towards the register and taking up her perch behind the counter. She picks up another piece of licorice and bites the tip off, staring at Hyde intently.

It's the blush that Hyde hones in on. Upon seeing the redness invade her cheeks, he lets out a snort of bemusement. "What're you, a virgin? It's just porn." Curiously, he does look towards the 'Den of Sin', though soon enough he glances over to the woman. "Do you really need to see my ID to know that I'm above and beyond the required age? Or are you just looking for an excuse to learn my name?"

"I'm not a virgin, you're just creepy." Bailey says, flat out. An expression of regret crosses her features shortly thereafter, though it doesn't linger long. "Unless I can visibly see that you're over about forty, I have to see it. Store policy. Cameron is a little obsessed with these things, but I can hardly blame him. Lots of new policies, better business bureau crap he has to follow. So no ID, no boobs. Or… whatever floats your boat. I don't need to know. I mean it."

"And yet you're the pervert that pointed to the pornography." Hyde points out with a liberal roll of his eyesockets. "Screw it. If I find myself in need, I'll go out and fetch someone to take care of it for me." Striding over towards the counter, he places all four DVD cases on the wooden surface, pushing it towards her all the while taking a very deliberate puff of his cigarette, just to rub it in her face. "Ring me up, will you?"

Bailey can't help but give a sudden laugh at Hyde's behavior. "And girls still go for this? I highly doubt you're as sick a motherfucker as you claim to be, and you're not impressing anyone in here. So just give it up and act like a normal human being for five seconds, eh?" Bailey asks as she starts to ring Hyde up. She doesn't bother to ask him if he has a membership card, let alone if he'd like to join as a regular member of the rental club. The sooner he's out, the better for her.

"You're a dumb bitch, aren't you?" Hyde calls out then, thick brows arching once more. "Just shut up and do what you're paid to do. Here," and he plucks out the appropriate amount of cash, also dangling an extra ten dollar bill in her face. It is then shoved into the 'tip' bottle. "Here's a tip for you - keep your mouth shut until spoken to."

It's at this point that Cameron decides to trudge out of the office. The tall man has a brow quirked as he comes out, but otherwise looks unimpressed with anything currently going on. "Bailey, break." He merely says.
By now, Bailey looks visibly shaken. She takes in a deep breath and nods to Cameron, all while glowering tearfully at Hyde. It's without a word that she goes back toward the office, the door shutting quietly behind her.
Cameron rings Hyde up silently. "Fifteen dollars." After a long moment of considering the young man, Cameron leans in a little bit. "Word of advice? Don't you ever talk to my employee that way again. She won't have to call the cops, because there won't be any evidence that you were ever here. Got it?"

"Your employee needs to learn to have a thicker skin. And to not comment on shit she has nothing to do with, as well as no clue about." There is no hesitation in Hyde's drawl. No hesitation in the way he hands over the money. And no hesitation when he makes his escape, ducking out of the store in the same manner he came in.

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