Good, Old-Fashioned Window Shopping (Steampunk, then open)

Victoria has read so much, she was beginning to lose focus on the texts. For a breath of fresh air, she opted to take a stroll, knowing that at any time, a mirror would help guide her to her makeshift home. People still looked at her strangely, likely for her bizarre and slightly worn grey dress, but she did her best to pay no heed. One hand idly playing with her golden locket, she peered within the windows. What did people like these days? If she was going to try and sell items, they had to appeal to the modern masses...something, sadly, she knew next to nothing about.

"Such...strange items," she muttered over technological marvels and miniskirts, trying to find something, anything, that would appeal to her antiquated tastes. Was it indeed hopeless? Was she doomed to thievery to support herself, to aid the little hound-raised Annie? No, she was not a dishonest woman...she simply came from a time where she would be supported by a man, a husband. Too bad her fiance died almost a century ago...

Even knowing the child...it is so lonely out on these streets. Do others notice, as well? Or are they accustomed to the isolation...?

This girl wished for a familiar item... something to remind her of her own time. She would see one in a small glint. A man with slicked back black hair looking at a pocketwatch, in the steampunk style. This man's name was william grennan. In his work-clothes, he went by steampunk.

"Two p.m... on schedule..." He muttured.

"The drop-off should occur soon." He thought.

Victoria was only beginning to grow accustomed to that low hum that permeated the streets, the secret song of the metal that framed the world. It was a little distracting, but there was nothing that could keep a nearby gentleman from standing out from the crowd. Much like herself, his dress and manner provided a stark contrast against the modern and alien background. She blinked a couple of times, wondering if she was indeed hallucinating this phantom, but she could feel the hum from that pocketwatch. It seemed old, and yet...it also seemed too complex in design. A few extraneous gears, at the least.

Not wanting to disturb him, she shyly slid through the crowd, looking into the window next door despite that she held little interest in its contents. It seemed she had found a store full of cosmetics...glitter and strange shades galore. The standards of beauty had changed, it seemed...

Steampunk kept sitting on the bench. He was waiting for that delivery. Soon the man came, carrying a box that looked old... somewhere around 200 years.

"About time. I would harm you for being late, but there are so many people around, and this is such a hard piece to smuggle. I will allow it to slide this once."

"Thank you sir grennan!" The man said, before slinking back into the crowd.

Victoria let out a quiet sigh at the cosmetics, especially as they contrasted against the dull grey of her dress. Her hair and eyes were less dull, but still very grey...maybe she did need a little color. No way she could afford such a thing right now, however. Wasn't that why she was there? To figure out what people wanted? Still, the man on the bench, the one with the pocketwatch...he wasn't that old, and yet his dress and manner carried an odd nostalgia to them. The box he was handed, even more so. Unlike the rest of the ensemble, it was very clear that it was authentically antique. She turned her attention to them, a quick hand-off on a busy street, though she couldn't quite hear them over the din of city life.

She didn't want to impose, and yet at the same time, she didn't want to seem odd simply lurking around him, either. Not to mention the cosmetics display was simply depressing her. This time, she walked by, taking a seat at the other end of the bench, a proper distance away while still being relatively close. Her gazed hovered to him and to the box, but she dared not ask about it. People thought she was odd enough without discovering he had been watched...maybe a compliment? Wouldn't that break the ice? Or perhaps the generic discussion of the weather...?

"My, what a lovely box you carry," she said with a slightly nervous grin, cheeks rosy from embarrassment and the summer heat. It hadn't really hit her until she sat down, but her layered dress did not mix well with long walks, particularly without a parasol or fan. "It appears positively antique...a family heirloom, perhaps?"

Steampunk was about to walk away... but a lady stopped him and asked a question about the box. Now he would have shoo'd her away... but she was a lady, and gentlemen do not shoo away ladies.

"It is not an heirloom, and does not have a high monetary value. However, it's usefulness to me is insurmountable."

"I understand," she answered, hands clasped in her lap as she remained on the bench. "Forgive my curiosity, for I was not trying to pry into your personal business...the box you carry appeals to me for much simpler, sentimental reasons. The look of it, the age of it...has almost a comforting effect." One of her hands instinctively cupped over her locket, a warm and comforting weight just below her collarbone. Part of her had assumed, almost hoped, that he was an antiques dealer. Perhaps she could find more like that, even if to spend just a little time. The museum wasn't much of a possibility, especially since she was still wearing the same dress as when she escaped. They would imprison her for sure.

"I apologize...you appear to have an agenda today, and here I have detained you with my silly chatter," she broke her momentary silence again, looking up to him with a grey gaze. "Please, do not allow me to trouble you if you must depart..."

Steampunk looked at his pocketwatch again. He had a few minutes to kill before the bus arrived. Usually he would take his own ride, however during his last escape from the police, a haphazard bullet pierced a couple of important parts. Lucky shot. Besides. This was more covert.

"I have time..."

"You are most generous, sir," Victoria grinned shyly, glancing down at her slightly worn dress, trying to ignore the heat. "I will endeavor to make your time here pleasurable, though I may have little to say of any relevance. So much of modern life eludes my taste and understanding...I learn, but I have yet to truly grasp all these concepts..." She was speaking slightly cryptically, and perhaps saying too much, but aside from Annie, few people listened to her. And Annie was, well, a little girl. She needed someone more mature to talk to, to help sort out her frazzled thoughts from a temporal culture shock.

"Those cosmetics, for instance...such garish colors, and all that glitter...there used to be a simplicity, a standard for beauty that seemed...actually beautiful."

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