Shopping At The Bohdi Tree

Though the delicate chime of the bell elicits a brief glance from the slender blonde by the bookshelves, her attention seems not easily distracted today, returning swiftly to the chosen volume held carefully in her hands. The dull murmur of conversation among the few other customers does little to disturb her concentration either, the pages being steadily turned as she scans the printed text. Dressed relatively simply in dark skinny jeans, sneakers and a white racerback vest, she is nevertheless recognisable to those still surprised by the sight of a familiar face on Melrose Avenue, identifiable if nothing else by her near white blonde hair, held back from her face haphazardly by the large designer shades perched atop her head. A huge lump of dog snores contentedly by her feet.

One pale hand stowes a rather expensive-looking camera into a rather unexpensive-looking messenger bag as a small pixie of a woman breezes into the shop. Dangling from one ear is a thin, white wire leading to the pocket of her olive green cargo pants. Red Chuck Taylor's pad in near silence across the floor as the grey-eyed woman purses her lips into a vague o-shape, heading directly for the case holding jewelry of all sorts. She wears a rather simple black t-shirt with a skull and crossbones on the front with the words "Sparrow Is My Co-Pirate" printed stylishly underneath.

Glancing upward once again through long lashes as the young dark-haired woman passes by, Alexandra allows herself a small chuckle as her vivid blue eyes catch the slogan embellishing the t-shirt. The soft sound rouses her companion with a slight start, the rottweiler's head raising from his paws momentarily to determine the source of the disturbance, before being resettled with a long-suffering sigh. Nudging the creature affectionately with her toe, the slim blonde snaps her book closed and drops it into the mesh basket slung from the crook of her elbow, returning to her perusal of the shelves.

The clerk behind the counter gives the petite woman the hairy eyeball as she stares wide-eyed into the jewelry case, looking all the world like a kid in a candy store. She flashes the boy a jovial grin and bats her eyelashes comically before asking, "Can I pleeaaase just try a few on? I promise you can stand there and gawk and make sure I don't forget to take it all off. Please? Please? It's just, um, you see I have this dream. Of being the next Mr. T. But I can't do that without," she pauses blinking up at the man for only a minute, "without the, er, bling bling?"

A burst of laughter interrupts the exchange a moment later, the conversation evidently being listened to. A look toward the blonde would reveal her as the audience, a charismatic grin warming her features considerably as she regards first the diminutive brunette, then the rather overwhelmed looking clerk. Adopting a semi-serious expression, she nods toward him slowly. "I pity the foo' that denies the young lady such a dream." This said, she conceals her expression behind another book, raising it to hide her pretty features, though a quiet snicker can be clearly heard from beyond it.

A grin is flashed over the young paparazzo's shoulder at the blonde, an amused glint in her stormy eyes. "Yes! That is exactly what I'm talking about! I want to save children from drugs and make sure they drink their milk and have to get knocked out by Murdoch every time I have to go on an airplane," she tries to explain before turning her head back around to beam brightly at the clerk. "Oh, I didn't mean all drugs," she adds in hastily after taking account of her Dead Head surroundings. "Just the really nasty things. Not the peace, love, and happiness green things," she prattles on, pinching her index finger and thumb together just near her rather large mouth as if taking a puff from something.

Shoulders still shaking gently as she tries to stifle her laughter, Alexandra attempts, with a slight clearing of her throat, to return to the book she was idly flipping through. Her dog, however, continues to stare unabashed at the amusing spectacle by the counter, head canted to one side as he listens.

Long strides ending in soft footfalls seem to carry a willowy figure aimlessly through the night through idle wandering. Cerulean eyes are clear and bright, though lack a sense of true focus, as though watching a world unseen by the gaze of others. Ducking and dodging the few others out at this time of night with a compulsive need and practiced ease, the youthful figure seems to have no desire for companionship. However, the faint noise and light produced from a nearby store seems to break both trance and solitude at once, and the youth wanders over to the store window at a leisurely pace. Recognition alighting within the pale gaze, golden curls spill over finely-drawn features as the youth's head tilts curiously to the side. A hand hovers over the handle to the door for several moments before being pulled back once more.

It seems almost a force of will that pulls the photographer away from her intended prey inside the glittering jewelry case, her fingernails the last to leave the glass as she turns around and meanders closer to the other woman and her dog. Her brow knits together as a ponderous state overtakes her, her head canting to one side as she hums softly. "Hey, okay, I don't mean to be rude or anything but you look sort of familiar to me," she begins, a bit of trepidation in her voice. At the sound of the bell, her head whips around to spy the newest entrant, forcing the lines in her forehead to grow even deeper. She clears her throat, turning again to the woman with the dog to stare mostly at her hair, "Did you, um, ever work at Next Door's Living Room?"

Offering a slight smile as she meets the gaze of the approaching woman, the blonde shakes her head, the curve of her lips broadening to an amused grin at the suggestion. "Umm, no..?" she ventures, arching an elegant brow. Dropping the second book into the basket on her arm, she then extends her newly freed hand in a polite gesture. "Alexandra Deckard. I work for the LA Times now. And not to sound all Troy McClure, but you might have seen me on tv at some point." The faintest flush of color rises on her cheeks, hinting at mild embarassment, but the young woman seems friendly enough. The same cannot be said of her furry companion, who flops back down with a grunt.

Blue-grey eyes narrow as the diminutive woman pulls herself up to her full height, staring deeply at Alexandra's eyes. A sigh then falls from her lips as she relaxes a great deal more than she was just a few minutes ago, a lopsided smile overpowering the rest of her features. "Alright, just had to make sure," she chirrups perkily while gripping the other woman's hand and giving it an amiable shake. "Oohh! I think I -have- seen you on the boob tube! How are things going in that end of the journalistic spectrum?"

Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Alexandra shrugs lightly as she retrieves her hand. "Better now. All that fuss in New Orleans really ruined television for me.. I've pretty much gone back to my roots for now. Though, it's easier being in LA.. guess I'm not famous enough here to get in as much trouble, huh?" Raking back her long hair with her fingertips, she continues to smile blithely. "So what's the deal with this Living Room place then.. oh, I don't think I caught your name.."

A wicked grin flashes across the young woman's face as she lets out a small giggle, shaking her head slowly. "Oh no. It's actually pretty darn easy to get into trouble when you're not well-known. Easier, in fact, because you don't have someone like me racing after you, tracking your movements and taking pictures of it all." She clasps her hands behind her back as she rocks slightly on her feet, a ponderous motion completed by the appearance of those thoughtful furrows in her forehead. "Next Door's Living Room.. You might have heard of it? Not long ago some corpses showed up there, missing the tops of their heads and their brains. It's a strip joint so really I don't think those guys needed their grey matter to function there," she explains was she unclasps her hands to tap a finger against her temple. "Oh, yeah, I'm Ella Priest, paparazzo at large," she adds as an afterthought, taking a gallant bow at the waist.

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