He was here again.
Prowling about the shop shelves, and picking up different odds and ends. Red hair noticeable like a neon sign that called to be looked at. Deena watched as he bent low to look at a bottom shelf.
He'd been coming by for months, stopping in, buying a handful of candy and a differing assortment of various joke items and prank materials. He always paid with an odd arrangement of bills and coins.
She'd say by now she'd know when to expect him but he never came the same time or the same day. Sometimes he came through two days in a row, sometimes he'd show up at opposite ends of the week.
But he was often here.
And he always had some question. "How does this work?" he'd inquire about the bit of sneezing powder he'd bought. "What about this, what makes it tick?" He'd ask about the little fake stick of gum that shocks one when one pulls it.
But it wasn't just the merchandise he'd question about. There was a bus stop round front of the shop and he'd asked once how long it typically took, and how the schedule itself worked. He'd actually looked confused when she'd laughed at the notion that it just showed up when people were randomly stranded.
They'd had a nice twenty minute conversation where she showed him the bus route information they kept under the counter. He'd knelt close and looked over all the times carefully as she'd explained it all to him.
She wondered sometime if he was some sort of hermit, but Deena figured he seemed a bit young for that. Perhaps his family had been, or maybe they were like the Amish in America, and he'd gotten out of that life for a bit of modern adventure.
But he seemed a fairly normal bloke, most of the time at least. Certainly not the sort that's lived outside the modern world all his life. But also, a bit like that too at the same time. He'd glanced over with intrigue when the phone had rung one visit to the shop, and watched narrowly as she'd answered and spoken through it.
It puzzled Deena, and she was actually quite the fan of all sorts of puzzles, she had several finished twice over boxes of puzzles at home and she tended to keep a crossword puzzle book under the counter for slow hours (which were most hours).
So she leans forward with a smile, warm and curious, as he comes towards the counter with the assortment he's gone with this time round. He's got a stack of sweets, a Chinese finger trap, and a whoopee cushion. He settles them upon the counter and she glances over, totaling them up while he spins the little rack of novelty cards. "Wait," she glances over them, "didn't you get a whoopee cushion last week?"
"It broke." He shrugs, pulling a card off the rack and settling it amongst his things. Deena glances at the card, a raunchy valentines day card for the holiday coming up in a few short weeks.
"It broke?"
"Experiment gone wrong," he shrugs, a smile to his face saying that there was quite a story to whatever experiment it was that he'd done.
She taps her pen against the counter, "what is your deal exactly?" She finally asks. "You come round here, almost weekly at this point, at entirely randoms times and days, and buy all these joke items." She narrows her eyes and leans further forward. "Not to mention you seem entirely oblivious about most other things. You know its not my job to answer all the questions of the universe."
"You said people ask about the bus schedule all the time." He defends, a cheeky smile to his face.
"Yes…" She rolls her eyes, "but that's entirely different. Hardly the secrets of the universe that the bus comes on the hour." She tilts her head. "What do you do with all this stuff?"
"Use it?" He responds, a bit plainly like she's thick though he still has that same smile that says he doesn't really think so. Again, like the 'experiment gone wrong' he seems to be smiling like there is something more she just doesn't know.
"You buy a lot of random stuff, and almost always ask weird questions about how they work or how they're made…" She frowns, thinking, "wait are you like trying to make your own or something?" She narrows her eyes, a feigned bit of a glare his way, "you trying to build up your own shop, be my competition?" She leans back, crosses her arms and lilts her chin up, "cause I'll tell you now, I'm not afraid to play dirty."
He laughs, loud and boisterous. "Already have a shop actually, been running a couple years now in fact." She frowns, more genuine now and a bit more confused. "Not around here, exactly, and the supplies a bit different. It's why I came in here, saw that you had all this stuff and wanted to compare."
Deena sits for a few moments, tapping her pen against the counter and looking him over. "Why compare it?"
"Different supplies like I said, wanted to see if I could make our stuff better."
"Our?"
"My brother and I own it, make it all ourselves."
"So you're like an inventor."
He smiles, beams really, at that. Like it's a great compliment when she was just stating a fact. "Very much so, yes. Should add that to the business cards."
"You have business cards?"
He pauses, and shrugs, "not on me sorry." He responds not entirely convincingly.
"Alright, alright, if you don't want to give me one than that's your right." She smiles, "just a bit curious about the apparent competition I wasn't aware we had."
"Hardly competition," he responds.
"I'll try not to be offended," Deena faux glares again.
He smiles, leans against the counter. "Different clientele."
"Different supplies, different clients. Are you sure you also have a joke shop?" She asks.
"Certain." He says, "though my mum would likely be happier if it turned out to be a farce."
Deena chuckles. "Well, I suppose I can't force you to give me a card." She glances over his stuff, "but I mean, you have been coming round all these weeks and never gave me your name. Suppose you like being a mystery man as much as an inventor?"
He smirks, "it's a bit of fun for sure."
She waits, but he keeps her hanging for far longer than she'd like. "Fine, fine." She huffs out a breath, feigned hurt to her tone before she tells him his total. She watches, as she always does, as he carefully counts out the random assortment of money he always pays with.
It's only after she's handed his receipt, bagged his purchases, watched him go and open the door that he glances back, a bright cheeky grin to his freckled face and he tells her, "names Fred Weasley."