Ren fixed Ruka with the look only a very, very impoverished person can give a very, very wealthy person when the subject turns to money. It had potent similarities to the face of a women who had just been told she "wasn't like those other women." Combined, perhaps, with the expression of someone trapped at a family dinner with their racist uncle. Tired. Unimpressed. Wondering if it would be worth it to try to explain or an utter waste of time and effort.
A valuable tool that can open a lot of doors.
Right before taking about a pizza with gold on it that cost more money than Ren had ever had, probably even if you added up all the money she'd physically owned in her lifetime up to that point.
Money being spoken of as if it were a set of lockpicks was... Ren could not decide if it was amusing, telling, or just made her better understand the man who had once put five bucks in her begging cup and sagely informed her to "eat the rich." Money was life. Money was death. Money was everything and anything. Nothing could be accomplished without money, and how much of it you had handily determined your worth as a human being. Those who had it could keep those who did not as easily as one might purchase a novelty dog. Money was what determined whether you lived or died. Just money. Nothing else. No amount of skill or luck would help unless the skill or luck got you near a person with money who would give you the money, or, like Ruka, use it on your behalf for an interesting afternoon. Finding a person with Ruka's hopefully-good intentions would have been a sliding scale of usefulness based completely and entirely on how much money they had. A poor person whose heart bled for the little homeless glitter girl in nothing but a hoodie could, perhaps, offer pocket change. That did not make them a worse person than the wealthy; in fact, it arguably made them better, because that pocket change they were giving had been for bread that week. It was the difference between them walking to work or being able to take the bus, on a day below freezing. But it also didn't change that it was infinitely less useful than what a wealthy person could do without it impacting their life in the absolute slightest.
She put the remains of the cigarette out in the ashtray before tucking it into a backpack pocket. Then she reached into the tin and immediately pulled out another and lit up, because this was the sort of conversation one required nicotine for. She regretted asking, even though her question had, in fact, been answered.
She decided to, briefly, latch on to the safest of possible conversation topics. "Yeah. Just black or with milk," she said, in regards to coffee. That explained what a macchiato was and why she'd never heard of it. So some sort of 'sweet' coffee drink, that was cold, with caramel in it. Well, caramel was very sweet and good. Perhaps it overpowered the coffee flavor? Ren had once tried putting honey in but it just tasted like coffee with honey in it and and that point she wasn't sure why she wasn't just putting the honey in the warm milk and skipping the bitter-tasting middle man. "I'm excited to try it," she said, and it was the truth, though she was having a bit of trouble sounding enthused while her mind was pirouetting around on such dark topics.
She took a very, very long draw off her new cigarette. "The ingredients that taste good," she wagered. "Cost more because they taste good, and people can charge more for them because the wealthy will buy them." She considered this for a moment, taking another drag. "I would posit," she said, politely but a little sourly. "That the people who pay ten dollars for yogurt--no offense--" She was lying. "Have never had a fast food burger for a buck after three days of not eating. Because I can promise you it tastes better than a five thousand dollar pizza, no matter how much nice handmade cheese you put on it."
Another long inhalation of the cigarette.
On the plus side, she no longer felt even slightly bad about the concept of eating sixty dollars worth of pancakes. In fact, she was going to feed as much of it to Phoebe as the little rat could physically eat. Today, two rats would dine like kings--or at least dukes.
"No," she replied a little belatedly, and a bit more bluntly than entirely called for. "There's no point. The sell-by date is useless because if it's been out longer than like twelve hours you'll just make yourself sick."
A valuable tool that can open a lot of doors.
Right before taking about a pizza with gold on it that cost more money than Ren had ever had, probably even if you added up all the money she'd physically owned in her lifetime up to that point.
Money being spoken of as if it were a set of lockpicks was... Ren could not decide if it was amusing, telling, or just made her better understand the man who had once put five bucks in her begging cup and sagely informed her to "eat the rich." Money was life. Money was death. Money was everything and anything. Nothing could be accomplished without money, and how much of it you had handily determined your worth as a human being. Those who had it could keep those who did not as easily as one might purchase a novelty dog. Money was what determined whether you lived or died. Just money. Nothing else. No amount of skill or luck would help unless the skill or luck got you near a person with money who would give you the money, or, like Ruka, use it on your behalf for an interesting afternoon. Finding a person with Ruka's hopefully-good intentions would have been a sliding scale of usefulness based completely and entirely on how much money they had. A poor person whose heart bled for the little homeless glitter girl in nothing but a hoodie could, perhaps, offer pocket change. That did not make them a worse person than the wealthy; in fact, it arguably made them better, because that pocket change they were giving had been for bread that week. It was the difference between them walking to work or being able to take the bus, on a day below freezing. But it also didn't change that it was infinitely less useful than what a wealthy person could do without it impacting their life in the absolute slightest.
She put the remains of the cigarette out in the ashtray before tucking it into a backpack pocket. Then she reached into the tin and immediately pulled out another and lit up, because this was the sort of conversation one required nicotine for. She regretted asking, even though her question had, in fact, been answered.
She decided to, briefly, latch on to the safest of possible conversation topics. "Yeah. Just black or with milk," she said, in regards to coffee. That explained what a macchiato was and why she'd never heard of it. So some sort of 'sweet' coffee drink, that was cold, with caramel in it. Well, caramel was very sweet and good. Perhaps it overpowered the coffee flavor? Ren had once tried putting honey in but it just tasted like coffee with honey in it and and that point she wasn't sure why she wasn't just putting the honey in the warm milk and skipping the bitter-tasting middle man. "I'm excited to try it," she said, and it was the truth, though she was having a bit of trouble sounding enthused while her mind was pirouetting around on such dark topics.
She took a very, very long draw off her new cigarette. "The ingredients that taste good," she wagered. "Cost more because they taste good, and people can charge more for them because the wealthy will buy them." She considered this for a moment, taking another drag. "I would posit," she said, politely but a little sourly. "That the people who pay ten dollars for yogurt--no offense--" She was lying. "Have never had a fast food burger for a buck after three days of not eating. Because I can promise you it tastes better than a five thousand dollar pizza, no matter how much nice handmade cheese you put on it."
Another long inhalation of the cigarette.
On the plus side, she no longer felt even slightly bad about the concept of eating sixty dollars worth of pancakes. In fact, she was going to feed as much of it to Phoebe as the little rat could physically eat. Today, two rats would dine like kings--or at least dukes.
"No," she replied a little belatedly, and a bit more bluntly than entirely called for. "There's no point. The sell-by date is useless because if it's been out longer than like twelve hours you'll just make yourself sick."
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-18-2017, 02:58 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-18-2017, 04:00 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-18-2017, 04:33 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-18-2017, 07:35 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-18-2017, 07:53 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-18-2017, 08:09 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-18-2017, 08:32 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-18-2017, 09:05 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-18-2017, 10:12 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-18-2017, 10:37 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-18-2017, 11:43 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 12:03 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-19-2017, 12:17 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 12:35 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-19-2017, 12:48 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 01:12 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-19-2017, 01:39 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 02:58 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-19-2017, 03:31 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 04:00 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-19-2017, 04:31 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 04:58 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-19-2017, 05:16 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 05:35 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-19-2017, 05:55 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 06:17 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-19-2017, 12:16 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 05:38 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-19-2017, 07:32 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 08:18 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-19-2017, 09:39 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-20-2017, 01:54 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-20-2017, 10:32 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-20-2017, 05:23 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-20-2017, 06:18 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-20-2017, 07:06 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-20-2017, 07:29 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-20-2017, 11:14 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-21-2017, 04:38 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-21-2017, 06:22 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-21-2017, 07:26 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-21-2017, 08:26 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-21-2017, 09:02 PM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by Blade - 03-22-2017, 02:06 AM
RE: Glitterbombed [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 03-22-2017, 03:20 AM