Chapter 2
"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Niccals," the woman said, handing him a small bag and receipt. "Mm, so ye know me name, eh?" Murdoc asked slyly. "You gave it to me about five times," the woman replied with a wry smile. The two stood for a moment, eyes locked. Murdoc knew his bandmembers were waiting for him, but he felt strangely reluctant to leave. "S-so how long ye been here, anyway?" he asked, feigning nonchalance. "Eh? Oh, it'll be a year in two months! It's been wonderful so far, running this store. Frustrating and a bit financially fruitless, but...wonderful," she said, adjusting her glasses. A customer waiting behind Murdoc cleared his throat impatiently. The bassist shot him a withering stare before turning back to the lady behind the counter. "I best be going."
The woman lowered her head and smiled gingerly. "Come again soon, yeah?" she said. Murdoc nodded. "With a pretty thing like ye runnin' this, er, establishment, I'll be back very soon," he purred. "Can I have ye name?"
"Ivy," she replied.
"Ivy," Murdoc repeated. He noticed some music note keychains for sale next to the register. "Ivy. I'll make note of that, hergheheh," he rumbled with a self-indulgent chuckle, picking up one of the keychains. The customer behind him groaned. Ivy made a noise of sarcastic approval. "Very clever. Now shoo, shoo! I've got other customers," she laughed, waving him away. Murdoc grinned and walked out the store.
It wasn't until he had crossed the street when he suddenly became aware of how very strange he felt. The bassist felt…light. And springy. He exhaled, realizing that he had been holding his breath for quite some time. He shook his head violently, hoping to snap back to normality. Anger at the unfamiliarity of this feeling swelled in his chest. Murdoc cleared his throat and walked quickly back home.
"Ivy? The shipment of piano concertos came in today. What do you want me to do with them?"
Ivy broke away from her thoughts and blinked. "Hmm? Oh, don't worry, dear. I'll take care of it," the woman responded to Lane, her new hire. Lane nodded and resumed stocking. The store was closing in less than 30 minutes. Two customers meandered about the store at a leisurely pace. Ivy balanced a pen between her fingers and reluctantly let her mind wander to a clearly hungover man with sickly green skin and mismatched eyes.
With a pretty thing like ye runnin' this, er, establishment, I'll be back very soon. Ivy shook her head. Fool. He was a fool, and she was a fool, too. Ivy was always quick to judge, and Murdoc Niccals was no exception. She took one look at him and she knew exactly what kind of a man she was dealing with. Crusty. Womanizing. Probably temperamental. Probably alcoholic. But she heard his gravelly voice and low, rumbling laugh and saw his crooked nose and looked in to his mismatched eyes. And she liked him. Ivy exhaled sharply and rubbed her temples. Their next encounter was inevitable. She both dreaded and anticipated it.
