"Daaaaaad!!!"
"Stop that, Gavin, it's only a book store. It will not kill you to
spend a few minutes there." Sabin glanced down at his son wryly.
"Besides, I have a few things I wanted to pick up, and I'm fairly sure
they have them in stock."
"But it's boooring." Gavin whined, scuffing the toe of his
sneaker against the cobblestones as he followed his father through the elegant
wooden door. Actually, he didn't much mind going on shopping trips usually -
most of the time, he could finagle some gold out of whichever parent he was
with, and at least some of the shops had stuff that would interest him, whether
he was supposed to get into it or not. But this particular shop was one he'd
been to before. They didn't have any of the rare or magical books he liked to
sneak looks at, just a bunch of the classics and the odd Victorian story or
two. It was musty, kind of dark, and the little old man that ran it didn't even
have any candy for him to snack on. Besides, he'd just gotten a new set of
codes for his Xbox Morrowind game, and he wanted to see what he could kill with
them. "The old man doesn't even like me."
Sabin just gave him a look, one eyebrow raised, and shook his head.
"Behave yourself. I shouldn't take long." Hand in the pocket of his
long coat, he went to the counter, striking up a conversation with the bald,
white-shirted elderly gentleman as Gavin wandered through the cramped aisles,
randomly pulling out a title here and there to see what he could find. Only one
even looked remotely interesting - Kitsunes, demons or tricksters? - and
he dropped it back on the shelf with a roll of his eyes. Kitsune were
tricksters, not evil. Though his mom in a temper might contradict that. Already
bored, he glanced at the back corner, surveying the small table stacked with
books tucked between two shelves. A lamp on it, old and probably lit with oil,
a vase with some sort of flowers in water - and a radio. Well, maybe he could
listen to something. The old man had classical music playing on some speakers
hidden up in the rafters, but Gavin wasn't much interested with Mozart.
Picking up the device, he turned it over, trying to figure out where the on
button was. There was a switch there - he flicked it, then bent over to listen,
one ear twiching. This was no good. Even with his great hearing, he could
barely make out any noise at all. So where was the volume? Shaking it, he heard
something rattling inside. Great, it was busted. He bet he could fix it,
though. Taking a small set of screwdrivers he'd "borrowed" from the Clinic's
Janitor's closet out of his pocket, Gavin unscrewed the small panel in the
back, lifting it off, and peered at the wiring inside. It seemed easy enough to
see the problem. Just a couple wires frayed. If he twisted them here, then
connected this little section to that one there, it should -
"I'M A COUNTRY BOY, THAT'S WHAT I AM, STANDIN' WITH MY GUITAR - "
Yaaaaah! Country music! Gavin yelped and scambled backward, ears twitching in
pain from the sudden loudness, then made a dive for the tangled wires and
plastic as it fell for the floor. He missed, slamming into the nearest bookcase
and sending several volumes toppling onto his head. The twangy, hideous sound
continued to blare cheerfully, and he groped along the floor, trying in vain to
find it again. Unfortunately, his reaching fingers found the exposed copper
bits, and he yelped again as the current burned his hand. One of the heavier
books above him tipped forward on the swaying case, followed by a few of the
decorative glass knicknacks atop the highest shelf; he threw himself backward
just in time to avoid being brained, thunking his shoulder into a second case
as the thick, leather-bound manuscript smashed into the radio. The caterwauling
stopped, and smoke rose from beneath the pages to frame Sabin's face as his
father charged into the back. "Gavin, what the hell - "
It was certainly a mess. Books had scattered all over the floor, along with the
glass of the aforementioned knicknacks. The destroyed radio was smoking, and at
least one of the volumes had fallen on the oil lamp and was smoldering. The
vase had exploded, sending water and flowers flying everywhere; the bookshelf
he'd hit the first time was canted at a funny angle, as though it might fall
over any minute. And in the middle of it all sat Gavin, fur on end, looking
singed and rather sheepish. Sabin sighed. "Well, this is certainly a new
record."