Lord Foppington and the Impudent Wench (Featuring AU Tobias)
Though it wasn't a quality that suited her budget, Hannah was becoming a clothes horse. It all started with Carrie's wardrobe. Most of the garments Hannah inherited didn't suit her style or measurements. What started as a replacement of lingerie (she was definitely not going to wear another woman's underwear and bras) eventually emptied the closet of seventy-five percent of its contents. Piece by piece, she added staples like jeans, sweaters, and t-shirts. Unfortunately, an obsession with discount shopping formed. A person could get great deals on last season's clothes, if they followed sales. Then she discovered vintage. Hannah loved vintage.

The shop on Belmont was pricey, but the clothes were in great condition. If she saved up, Hannah could afford an extravagance once per month. Today was the day. In the late afternoon, she circled a rack of pants, scraping their hangers along the metal rod. A red peasant blouse with white polka dots hung around her neck. She selected a pair of denim bell bottoms and held them up, examining the multi-colored patches. "Let's get crazy." Waving at the shop's owner, she dove into a dressing room and pulled the curtain.

Since his initial reconnaissance with Inquisitor Maragos (the wife of their Squad Leader rather than the leader himself), Tobias had been rather taken with trying to find out more about this strange world they seemed to have found themselves in.

Whilst many things - such as the gaseous ratios of carbon dioxide to oxygen and the human population - were the same, so many things were different. Their cultural codes and conventions were so outlandish and outrageous that he wondered what poor soul had surrendered to the devil to create such chaos. There were advertisements everywhere with women in their underwear, looking sweaty and as if they had been caught doing something that they should really only be doing with a husband to create a child. Women dressed as if it were the heat of Summer and they were in the privacy of their own homes in public, of all places. Everybody seemed so loud and uncaring that there were demons and beasts roaming in their number.

He had seen headlines. Announcing demons. Someone had been preaching about Judgement Day and Tobias had to agree. This world desperately needed their help.

So far, though, he had not seen any sign of their quarry. Unfortunately, they were very good at going to ground and with so much ground to scope and so few Inquisitors, it was going to prove a mammoth task indeed.

He pushed the door open of a shop that had a sign in the window that said 'Vintage' as a descriptor for the things that it sold. Curiosity got the better of him as he approached, doing a brief check of himself and his coat to ensure that his weapons were concealed. It would not do anyone any good to be spooked by his technologies which seemed far superior to the ones in this world. At least they had electricity. All was not lost.

The bell tinkled pleasantly as he pushed the door open and his eyes perused the clothes on display. Was this what the people here wore? There seemed to be so many different styles that he found it hard to wrap his head around what was proper here. Certainly there seemed to be no issue with women bearing almost everything to the world on an everyday basis.

He wandered over to a rack that was hanging at his eye level and he picked up a shirt that was Hawaiian print. He eyed it with barely concealed disgust. How hideous.

The dressing room curtain billowed and was tugged back. A short blonde backed out of the stall. She hoped to get a better look at her reflection. She pivoted on her striped socks, nearly breaking her neck to see herself from all angles. Frustrated because she couldn't make up her mind, Hannah looked for assistance. The owner couldn't be trusted not to feed her a line, but a stranger might give it to her straight. Her eyes lit up. "Toby!" She hot-footed around a rack of furry coats. "Toby, I'm so glad you're here. I need a second opinion. Does my ass look okay in these pants?"

She turned around and lifted the blouse above the waistband. "Seriously. Be honest. If it looks like a pancake butt, I'm not buying these jeans. I'm a woman on a budget."

Tobias' eyes widened when a small blonde woman approached him and asked him a question that was nothing short of crude. He rather sharply averted his eyes when she lifted her shirt and turned around, feeling very uncomfortable. His inner moral compass immediately told him to back up and leave, but then he wondered if he shouldn't actually try and speak to some of these natives, try and learn their conversational ways as well. That way, at least, if they started making acquaintances with these people, then they could be used to help with the search for the fugitives.

It would certainly make their job a lot easier.

What he wanted to know was how she knew to call him 'Toby', though, no one but his late mother - God rest her soul - had ever called him that. He frowned at her. How was it possible that she recognised him when he knew for certain that he had never seen her before in his life? He would remember such exuberance. Besides, he and she were from different universes. Dimensions. Whatever boundary they had crossed.

His fingers itched to reach for his weaponry, just for the reassuring weight of his mechanical back-up in his hand. Was it possible she was a mind-reader like one of the number they were chasing?

"Excuse me?" he asked finally, one eyebrow lifting as he did take half a step back, in the interest of self preservation. One finger tugged on the collar of his shirt and he cleared his throat. "I'm not entirely sure that is an appropriate question to ask of a stranger. Surely your husband would be a better person to answer such an... intimate query?"

Hannah continued to watch him over her shoulder. Her mouth twisted into an unimpressed look. "Oh, ha flippin' ha, make fun of the single girl." Sporting an impressive scowl, she rotated to face the nearest full-length mirror. Maybe bell bottoms weren't for the vertically challenged. Everything on her body looked sort of... squashed. Though a nonsensical comparison, Hannah thought about Whistler's old pervert garden gnome. What was its name? Gerome? No, Gerald.

"Is it possible this is a fun house mirror?" she called to no one in particular. Which was just as well, since no one answered.

"Well. The jeans suck. But I kind of like the shirt. It reminds of of Minnie Mouse, but in a good way. I feel nostalgic today." Hannah looked at her possible future boss. "Um... what are you wearing? You look like a ninja. Or a jewel thief." She closed the gap and picked at his sleeve. Maybe it was for a costume party.

"Well, if you are single, perhaps you should be wearing more suitable attire to attract yourself a suitor." The young woman was of more than a suitable age to be getting married, most women in his society were in happy families by now. The women knew their places and they respected those of a better standing. Again, something that seemed to be missing from this city. Possibly this world as a whole. It was a damn good thing that they had arrived when they did.

She just kept talking. It was quite startling, the speed at which her mouth moved and Tobias' eyebrow just climbed higher up his forehead as she turned on him and then had the audacity to touch him. He pulled his arm back defensively, if not just because underneath that sleeve was his portal generator and that was not to be touched. He drew in a slow breath. "Madam, I'm afraid to say that I am not who you apparently think that I am, and I would appreciate it if you kept a respectful distance."

He was trying to be polite, but it was hard when you didn't know the social conventions of a world that seemingly had thrown away its moral compass and just let Hell (literally) out onto the streets.

"But in answer to your question, it is a uniform. A regulated piece of clothing for a non-descript job. What are you wearing?"

Stung, Hannah pulled back and crossed her arms. "Well, excuse me for living. I didn't know arm touching was a crime. If that's the case, you might as well lock me up for life. Would it shock you to know that earlier on, I groped some guy's kneecap?" Granted, she had been falling over on public transportation and grabbed it for dear life, but he didn't need the details.

"I think I'm mad at you now," she said, staring at his torso, since it was eye-level. There were too many ouch-worthy things in Toby's reply to have a meaningful, satisfying response to any of them, which just frustrated her more. "If you did forget meeting me, allow me to reintroduce myself. Hannah Flynn, aka Pixie Strumpet, aka the girl you met in a coffee shop and offered a job? Not the non-descript kind, the coffee pouring kind. You're Toby Bryson. Unless you're Toby Bryson's long lost twin brother, which I doubt. It's statistically unlikely. Have you been hit on the head recently?"

Silence fell for two or three seconds. Then she added on, "And I'm wearing a very cute shirt and ill-advised jeans."

"How can a shirt be deemed 'cute'?" Tobias asked, "It's either functional or not and I'm not entirely sure that your shirt is functional." She had asked him her opinion. But she thought he was someone else. Someone she had met before who had the same name as him and who... who looked like him?

He filed the information away, deciding that he needed to speak to the Squad Leader as soon as he was done here. His fingers itched to reach for his radio and tell Hayden now. Apparently he had a doppelganger.

The information about 'groping' a man's kneecap did not go un-noticed, but since it seemed to frustrate her his opinion on the subject was kept to himself, rather wisely, he thought.

"No," he answered, "I have not been struck on the head recently, which is quite an achievement, even for me." He gave her a small smile. When their eyes met, there was no hint of contact lenses and Tobias certainly did not need to wear glasses. He had no problems with his eyesight, thankfully. "And my name, miss, is Tobias," he corrected, because nobody called him 'Toby'. Nobody. "It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Flynn," he said, obviously never having met her before in his life and he looked like he was waiting for some kind of gesture on her part before he held out his hand.

The women here seemed to have a lot more... standing in the social sphere. It was unnatural. "I must say, you seem..." A handful? Disrespectful? Loud? "...charming," he settled on finally. "I'm sure if we had met before, I would remember."

"Well, yeah you would," Hannah said, ignoring his extended hand. "Because ya did... Tobias." She rolled her eyes and stomped into the dressing room. She yanked the curtain with the kind of zeal reserved for temper tantrums. One of the hooks popped loose and fell on the carpet.

Great, this is just... great, she thought as she shelled out of her blouse and blue jeans. The way Hannah saw it, there were three options. One, he was a soap opera amnesiac. Two, she was on Candid Camera. Three, he honestly did not remember her, and in that case, she was screwed out of a potential job, which meant she'd be serving pancakes at the Nugget until she was eighty and dried up and carried a permanent maple syrup smell. Hannah strongly considered telling him off through the curtain, but she made it as far as sticking her face out before she decided against it... Mainly because it felt like hollaring at someone from a shower stall.

Once back in her daisy dukes and ringer tee, she flounced out of the dressing room and hung up the offensive jeans, which made her look like Squash McDoodle. The blouse, she kept in hand. "Listen here, you," she said, refusing to look at him. "If you found some other person to count your coffee beans and ring your register and pour your drinks and whip your cream and... whatever the heck else people do in coffee shops, just man up and admit it. That's all I'm sayin."

Tobias was left staring at the space she had been standing in looking rather bemused and that expression went nowhere when she returned and spoke to him again, though she wasn't looking at him. It was most confusing. And also very rude. A frown creased his forehead.

He took in her attire and found himself preferring the trousers she had been wearing before. They had been more appropriate even though they were, technically, men's clothes. He brushed imaginary lint off the sleeve of his jacket, plucking at it before he looked at her again.

"Miss Flynn," he started again, very formally, "Since I arrived in Chicago last night, it would be nigh on impossible for me to have met you before." He idly looked at the shirts in the store again, eyes falling on a plain black t-shirt that read on it Nice Legs. What time do they open? and feeling the need to turn it around so that it could not be seen. There were children outside!

He frowned, looking back at Hannah again. "I believe I have offended you somehow, and for that I do apologise. Is it possible you simply met a doppleganger?" For, in Tobias' mind, he was the original version of himself. Anyone else would simply be a copy. Again, that curious streak which had gotten him into trouble many times before was tugged on by her words, "A coffee shop?" he asked.

"A doppelganger?" she countered.

Hannah let go of the jeans. Being a supernatural sort herself, and having lived in Searchlight for several years (which was still the Capitol of Weird, as far as she was concerned), she had to stop and consider it. "I suppose it's possible," she hedged, not looking him in the eye. She searched the row of pants, as if they held the answers. "Toby does wear glasses. He's scrunches up his nose to keep them on. He's also not a pompous... dandy person."

Laying the blouse aside, she faced him. "Hang on, lemme get a good look at you." She commenced with staring.

"Eye glasses?" Tobias asked, disdain colouring his tone. An imperfection like that would have made it hard for him to be at the level he was at now. He was very glad that he had no such deficiency. It was with some trepidation that he let her stare at him, though he was clearly uncomfortable with the blatant interest she was showing in him and it caused him to tug his coat a little tighter around himself.

It was warm outside, yes, but the long coat he wore - at least in his own home - was as much a status symbol as it was a convenient place to keep his gadgets. He had a collapsible headpiece in his inside pocket that covered his left eye when put on to allow him to see great distances but also through certain supernatural glamours. They had had to learn quick to control the creatures of the night. It folded flat and hid quite nicely in the fake lining of his coat.

He rolled his eyes as she called him pompous, refraining from commenting on her own attitude and apparent lack of proper socialisation. He folded his arms across his chest, a little defensively, still unable to get over her chosen attire. What had happened to this world?

Hannah watched him covering himself, like a little girl caught poolside in a swimsuit. "Oh, get real, don't be such a prude," she said. "Now I know you're not Toby. Something tells me that guy's not a prude. Besides, I'm not molesting you with my eyeballs. It's not like they're gonna hop out of the sockets and trace moist little," she spiraled an index finger, "Circles all over your body."

Not that he wasn't cute -- he was definitely cute -- but she was no pervert.

"Wherever you're from? I'm glad I'm not, too." Hannah picked up her red blouse with the polka-dots and circled the rack. There might be another bargain waiting to be found, like matching pumps with little white bows. "And yes, I'm judging you somewhat lacking."

The imagery alone was disgusting. Tobias had seen someone's eyeballs fall out of their skull. It was not a pretty sight and, needless to say, after that he was a lot more careful when seeking out witches to purge. He just tugged his coat a little tighter to his body and cleared his throat.

The thing was, one could never be too sure when people made statements like that. Some of the things he had seen - whether by his own eyes or made to be seen by the minds of those with a demonic taint - defied even the laws of God. It was endlessly disturbing.

"You are judging me?" he repeated incredulously. It was a wonder she had not been severely disciplined for her impudence. He let out a laugh, "I find that amusing." No one had the right to judge him except for God Himself. Fascinating. But he thought he ought to leave, back up before she attempted to talk to him more... even if he was morbidly fascinated by this culture of defiance he was seeing everywhere. He definitely needed to check in with Inquisitor Maragos, if not just about this apparent... doppelganger he had running around. That could be problematic.

"Ha ha!" she trumpeted from the shoe racks. "Laugh your head off, Lord Foppington. Now, hither ye yon... something or other." Hannah dismissed him with a hand wave. To tell the truth, she was thoroughly outdone by his snobbery and wanted nothing more than to be left with the three-inch platforms she just found. Also, to send The Real Toby a text message. She watched him lock-step out of the clothing shop, waiting until his head bobbed out of sight before she pulled out her cell phone. "Humph."

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"DUDE! There is a lame guy in Chicago masquerading as you!!! Way serious. -Pixie Strumpet">