One Night In Pawn Shop


carter_icon.gif samantha_icon.gif

Scene Title One Night in Pawn Shop
Synopsis To the tune of "One Night in Bangkok".
Date March 9, 2009

Tucker's Pawn Shop

Every shelf, every flat surface in the entire shop is covered with things. VCRs, DVDs, small pieces of machinery, cheap jewellery - all the kind of stuff worth little money. It's the merchandise that's not worth protecting, even here. If someone wants to steal a VHS copy of 'The Little Mermaid,' then so be it. The primary purpose of the clutter of items is a front - to distract from the fact that the real purpose of the shop is to sell stolen, high-value goods.

The front part of the shop with its knick-nacks and assorted low-value items is separated from the high value items by a counter and a layer of bulletproof glass. There is a slot beneath the window for exchange of money or small goods. At the base of the counter is a chute for larger items. Surveillance cameras keep a vigilant watch over every square inch.

There is a small arsenal of weapons up on a pegboard above the counter. Not just guns but knives, tasers, pepper spray, handcuffs, nightsticks, brass knuckles - all sorts of things meant to cause pain. There's a rotating case at the counter that holds many expensive jewellery pieces, including a few Rolexes and a large assortment of engagement rings. There are expensive cell phones, iPods, laptops and other various small electronics, including listening devices and CB radios. Just about anything worth stealing is displayed behind the glass and up on the walls. Many items however, are by special request. You gotta know what you're looking for.

Just as it was when Carter first approached Tucker about a job at the pawn shop, today isn't very busy. Carter sits behind the desk, keeping all of his senses trained on the shop on the other side of the protective glass even as he presumably goes over a recently complied list of inventory (including the price Boss Man Tucker paid to get it). The figures on the page are small, and Carter's hunched over posture makes it difficult for any prying eyes.

Not that there are any prying eyes this time in the early evening. The less respectful visitors and denizens of the Rookery are just awakening, after all.

The chime goes off as the door is opening and Samantha steps into the pawn shop. She was just out walking and stumbled upon it and thought she'd check it out. "Huh. Nice place." she thinks as she begins to look around. Of course, the good stuff would not be up front, but she wouldn't necessarily know that. Her room is bare, so maybe a few things to liven the place up would be nice, she thinks to herself as she walks over and touches a VCR, a spot of dust sticking to her fingers.

"Evenin'," Carter calls from the desk, looking up just enough to give Samantha a smile without looking too interested. He glances from her to the shop, trying to figure out how it could be described as nice. Well stocked, yes. So maybe that's it. "Is there anything I can help you find?" he asks after another moment, tilting his head to once side as he watches her near the antiquated technology.
ORDER: It is now your pose.

If you'd seen some of the places Sam has seen around here lately, this would be considered nice. She glances up at the voice. "Oh. Actually, I'm just browsing at the moment. Just moved into a new place and thought I might get a few things." She flips through the movies. "Anyone really watch these things anymore? I thought VHS was done." she moves on and continues to browse. "What I really need is a new piece. Something smaller than that rifle. Something more convenient." But she says nothing about it, really. She isn't quite ready to draw too much attention to herself. Her mind drifts to the knife strapped under her pants around her ankle. It gives her a nice safe feeling.

The weapons behind the glass, behind Carter, aren't even glanced at. He nods as he listens, his eyes squinting somewhat as he makes sure to hear all of what Sam is communicating. "Well, you know what they say," Carter says with a smooth sort of smile, resting a hand on the paperwork to obscure it while propping his chin up with the other.

"Guns for show, knives for a pro."

At this point, Sam's attention has been turned and she steps up to the counter. "Knives I have. I don't exactly live in the most righteous of neighborhoods, so I might need something a little.. more protective." She leans forward on the counter, striking her most intentionlly unintentional pose as she is not exactly wearing the least revealing T-shirt she could find, white with a low neckline. Her elbows hit the counter and she glances down inside the glass. She shouldn't have too much trouble passing an inquiry with her military background. It's chancy, and she could probably find a less tracable piece on the street, but she's new and is certain there's no punk on the corner with an 'illegal guns' sign standing up next to a lawn chair. "What's the wait time in this state? Hm?" she looks up at him with her shiny blue eyes, a grin curling up one side of her lips.

Wait time? Somewhere, something inside Carter sympathizes with the law, especially given the gun laws in New York. But 'Carter' isn't a law man. 'Carter' is a criminal. So Carter just smirks and unsuccessfully suppresses a chuckle. "The wait time is the time it takes for you to hand over the cash. Full amount. We don't layaway here." He tilts his head to the other side, squinting with interest while keeping his eyes on Samantha's face with amazing focus. "Anything up there strike your fancy?"

Of course, the display of weaponry behind Carter isn't that big or extensive. They're mostly handguns, and a fair number of them are revolvers rather than semi-automatics.

Someone like 'Carter' can probably tell that Sam is trying to work him. She dumbs herself down as she glances at the weapons, still leaning down on the glass. "That one's kind of shiny." She glances up at him. "Hey. Which one will stop a mugger?" she asks, giving him a appraising grin. "Like, if I was getting attacked and needed to stop someone. Which would be best for me?" The impression she's trying to give is that of flattery, coming across that if he's the one selling, he must know alot about them. She's already decided which one she wants, and it's not the shiny one, but the effective one a few guns away from the one she pointed out.

Carter glances behind him to see which handgun Sam has pointed out, but he also lets his eyes wander toward the one she's actually chosen. "It really depends on what you're putting through it, and if you know what you're doing." He shrugs, and for all accounts it seems like the woman's wiles aren't working on him. He slides his left ring finger against his pinky, twirling the plain gold band on the smaller digit. From the looks of it, Sam doesn't know what she's doing.

"But shiny doesn't always mean reliable. And that's what you need. You don't want something that's going to jam up on you the minute you need it."

Sensing that her approach isn't quite working, yet abanding it at this point would not be wise, she continues on with it. For now. "Wow. You're pretty smart about guns." Her lashes bob as she flashes her eyes at him. She notices the ring, and perhaps he's showing it to her for her own sake, but every man likes a little flattery right? She tilts her head. "So, which gun is the right one for me…" she pauses, since she doesn't know his name, and in essense asking it.

"Carter," he offers. Last names are best in professional situations, no matter who you are. The ring is a ring, but only one finger off of plum. "I know a bit. And I know that a gun is most likely to malfunction the one time you go to fire it." Carter stands, taking the paperwork with him and dropping it into a desk drawer before he turns to take the more reliable handgun - the handgun that Sam has already chosen - off the wall.

"Hollow points," Carter suggests as he displays the gun for Sam's viewing from the other side of the glass. "That'll stop any poor loser you aim it at."

Slowly her facade starts to come down, as she knows he's already onto her. This entire performance was entirely unnecessary — or so it seems. She looks at him for a long moment. "Alright, Carter. What's the bottom line on this. How much?" she asks. She has some cash, having stockpiled some before she came out here, but that pile is starting to dwindle. The courier gig is not paying as much as she'd like. She's going to need to generate an additional source of income.

Carter spends a moment eyeing the pistol, recalling how much Tuck bought it for and glancing at the pale and scribbled price on the sticker. "I suppose I'd still have a job if I gave it to you for five hundred," he says with a shrug, letting the slide rock back into position.

Well, she does get paid tomorrow. Dinner might be out tonight, but.. she has some chips at the room. She glances up at him. "Aren't you supposed to like.. offer some ammo with that as an incentive to purchase?" she arches her eyebrow up curiously. Weapon does her no good without bullets, and of course if she can't afford food, she can't afford ammo at the moment. She really didn't want to dip into her stock pile for additional cash so soon. She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out some folded bills and counts out five hundred worth, spreading it out on the glass. "Then I'll be out of your hair."

Unbeknownst to but perhaps assumed by the woman on the other side of the glass, five hundred will cover the gun and a single box of lower grade ammunition without cutting too far into the profit margin. Carter's smile grows, and he nods, turning to grab one of the smaller boxes off a shelf behind him. "Sure, sure. But only because you're cute." If a man can't compliment a woman ten years younger than him, what can he do? The gun and ammo is set on the desk, but Carter keeps his hand on it, watching Sam and the cash. His other hand moves to push a drawer out, allowing Sam to place the money there rather than slip it through the slot at the bottom of the pane of glass.

There's a pause as Sam studies Carter through the glass and has to decide whether or not the man is sincere or if he's playing her for a fool. Her blues stare back at him for a long moment as her fingers play over the money on the counter. She lifts a corner of one of the bills and feels it between her finger and thumb. For some reason, she doesn't expect he's looking for trouble. He wouldn't want to bring any trouble here, so she slowly pushes the money forward, eyes still on him, suddenly cold. Very cold.

It's only once the money is taken, pulled under the glass and out of Sam's grip, that Carter pulls the drawer back. There is a brief moment where Carter has both the money and the merchandise, but it is brief indeed. As soon as the cash counted, the gun and ammo is pushed through via the drawer just a moment later. Carter smiles, flipping a finger along the edge of the bundle of dough. "You have a nice evening now, ma'am."

Tuck would likely have something to say about selling a gun right alongside a box of ammo. But, of course, it takes time for a gun to be loaded. And Carter has a way of knowing intentions with enough time to react accordingly.

Sam takes the weapon, the ammo. The gun is tucked into her jeans at the waistband behind her before she takes her leather jacket, having held it over her arm for most of the encounter and slides it over her torso. She tucks the box into an inside pocket on her jacket and grins to the man. "Nice doing business with you." It's cliche, but so has this entire exchange been in hindsight. It was the perfect closing line. She turns and heads towards the door, letting the chime go off again as she opens it. Before stepping out onto the sidewalk, she thinks:

"This will do just fine."

The chime goes off again as the door closes behind her.

March 9th: Dead or Alive
March 9th: Errand Boys
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License