Zeke...really didn't think this was a good idea.

He had come to the mall to follow-up on an impressive lead about a ghost who haunted a video store, supposedly flinging around DVDs and and creating quite a ruckus. Obviously, he couldn't pass up something like that.

But when he told Mother Patricia exactly what he was doing, his rather effeminite, dastardly mom decided that it would be fun for him to go incognito.

Of course that was a spectacular idea.

Dressing him up as a woman, well, he could have gone without that.

The woman had gone all out, unfortunately. There he was, standing by the fountain at the mall in a short gray skirt, a button up white shirt (and a bra. A BRA. Not only did he have to wear the bra, but he had to stuff it. How did girls stand it?) and a blonde wig. The ends of his 'hair' touched the back of his shoulders, and itched like something horrid.

The worst was the make-up.

It seemed as if the only way he could look reasonably like a chick was if he had a layer of foundation, eyeliner, blush and lipstick covering his face. All in all, it was really, very uncomfortable.

It was unfortunate that he seemed to make a very attractive girl.

"Why, again, do I need to dress up as a chick?" he had asked Patricia, and his mother smiled.

"Well, because girls can get any answer they want by just looking cute." And that was the end of that.

God, was this embarrassing. Especially when guys checked out his, ahem, rear.

I'm a BOY, damnit!

He hoped, rather hopelessly, that this would be worth it.

Rehearsals are in the evenings. Thus, in the mean time, David Tuckey (who goes by a variety of nicknames, including Dave, DJ (yes, you may wince at the pun), and Tuck) has to find some way to fill his time. At the moment, that meant cruising the mall, looking for something interesting.

Maybe some kind of new gadget to play with at the theatre, or something.

Or a cute girl. That worked too, and there was one, right over there.

"Waiting for someone?" he asked cheerfully, voice one of those generic in between tenor and baritones, with an extremely faint accent that wasn't quite identifiable.

David's not bad looking, though he looks a little bit younger than his twenty three. (It's the nose. Gotta be the nose.) And he did try to tame those dark curls, so he would look less like some kid who'd just rolled out of bed. His brown eyes were frank and friendly.

He wasn't hitting on her yet.

If he knew 'she' was a boy, he'd be extremely embarrassed. He doesn't mind gays--you can't when you're in the theatre, after all. It's an accepting environment--but he definitely isn't one.

Zeke jumped slightly, almost guiltily. In reality, he was considering a place he could hide to pick this fantastic wedgie the lacy black panties his mother had bought for him had given him. He looked flustered and embarrassed, which was a new thing for him—usually he could go through completely humiliating situations without a bat of an eye.

This was different, though.

This, well, he was wearing Victoria's Secret, for crying out loud. At least he got to keep his converse.

He tried to answer, but what came out of his rather pouty lips was a surprised squeak. Blushing a bit more, he tapped his lips and looked to the ground, which was rather demure with the way his mother curled his already rather long eye-lashes.

"Um, no." He remembered to keep his voice quiet and rather effeminite, figuring breathy and soft would be much better than his normally masculine voice. "Can I help you?"

He hoped this boy wasn't trying to hit on him.

Well, he wasn't hitting on her yet. He was working up to it.

"Just felt like saying hi, I guess. I'm Dave. What's your name?"

He certainly gets to the point.

And she was definitely cute enough that getting to the point was warranted.

How the hell was he supposed to answer that? He stared at this Dave character and bit his lower lip, then inwardly grimaced at the taste of lipstick.

"Zoe."

Oh, that was almost painful to say. He wanted to scream, "my name is ZEKE, and I am a BOY, so PLEASE don't look at me like that!" but that would ruin the whole point of being incognito.

Instead, he just offered a wavery smile.

"And, um. Hello. How are you?"

It was the polite thing to say, after all.

Aw, she was nervous. Hey, no reason to be nervous--he wasn't that scary, was he? He took a step back, just to make sure that he wasn't invading her personal space or anything, and smiled.

"I'm good. A little bored." There a hint in there? Only if she wants there to be. "What about you, Zoe?"

He likes that name. It's cute, and kinda little girly...

Huh. Maybe he should ask how old she is, if she's this nervous. Wouldn't want to be hitting on a minor.

"I'm sorry you're bored." Zeke was notoriously bad at picking up hints, even if he wanted to. In this case, he probably did, so he could have high-tailed it out of there, but the point was, he didn't. And wouldn't. Unless it was blatantly spelled out to him.

He fidgeted slightly, glancing down at his feet again. His shoes were untied, but he was not about to bend down and tie them, not just yet. That would be attracting unwanted attention, of course.

"I, uh, came here for the movie store." He looked back at Dave and tapped his lips thoughtfully. What would be a believable lie? What did women watch? "I need to, um, pick up Resevoir Dogs."

...he should have said something more along the lines of Amelie, or something, but Resevoir Dogs was what came out.

"Resevoir Dogs? Huh. Don't meet many girls who like that movie."

Dave's own tastes ran the gamut from musicals--you kind of have to like theatre to work in the theatre, or you're going to hate your job, after all--to typical guy movies... to the occasional chick flick with a girlfriend. Not that he watches them alone, of course...

What?

He really should ask her how old she is eventually.

"R-really?" Did he just stutter? He hadn't stuttered since he was like, seven. How awkward. "It's, um, one of my favorite movies."

He wanted to put his hands in his pockets, but there were none on the skirt. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, trying not to wince at the fake breasts that pressed against his arm.

Small talk wasn't one of his strong points. What was he supposed to say? Something about the weather?

What the hell. He would just have to take Patricia's advice.

He smiled and tried to look cute.

"Do you go to school around here?" Relatively safe question.

"Nah. Graduated a year ago. Thank God. I'd have gone crazy if I'd had to spend another year there. 'Course, I've heard that anyone who works in the theatre's crazy anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter. What about you?"

If she goes to school, she may well be too young for him--she could be anywhere from high school age to university. University would be okay, high school would not.

Bother.

((Sammie is braindead, pardon the badness.))

(OOC: It's not bad! I'm probably horrible right now, because I'm absolutely nutty.)

"I go to Keaton." He absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind his ear—as soft and real as the wig felt, it was a bitch to feel the strands against his face. Distractedly, he glanced in the direction of the video store. He had a feeling the whole thing was a hoax—he was close enough to not hear anything coming from the movie store besides obnoxious music and people talking in overly loud voices.

He sighed and adjusted his purse.

That was one good thing about being dressed as a girl. There was nothing odd about carrying a purse around. Then again, if someone were to look at the contents, they would probably be a little odded out.

He tried smiling again, but the corners of his mouth were starting to get tired. He wanted to escape, but didn't want to look rude. Maybe the guy would ask something, next—he was running out of questions.

With one hand, he pushed up his glasses. He didn't realize that he pretty much completed the whole school-girl look, and that was what his mother had been going for—if he knew this, he would have insisted on jeans and a shirt.

'Kay. She wasn't too much younger than he was, then. A bit of flirtation wouldn't be any harm. Nice.

"Whatcha studying?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and glanced around for a nearby unoccupied bench or something--standing for too long tended to get uncomfortable, as long as he was staying in one place. He had no problems running around the catwalks, but he didn't like to stand still.

He jerked his head at a recently vacated bench. "Want to sit down?"

"Criminal Justice with a minor in Astronomy." He strolled to the benches, trying to remember how women walked. They swayed their hips, right? He attempted to do so and managed a jaunty little bounce, which drew attention to his fake-chest. He sighed, ignored it, and dropped down on the bench, eyes still glued to the video store.

Did he just see a DVD fly from one end to the other?

He was getting distracted and losing interest—what would be a good excuse? 'Sorry, my panties are really riding right now, I'm gonna have to escape to the bathroom' didn't seem to quite cut it.

He looked back at the man, patiently.

"... that's an interesting combination. What made you decide to put those two things together? Planning to investigate the little aliens that live on other planets or something?"

No, he has no idea that 'Zoe' is interested in the paranormal. He's just trying to think of some reason that astronomy goes with criminal justice. Most people choose a couple fields that are at least slightly related...

He, for instance, simply took enough technical theatre classes--including things like lighting and set design--to give him a major in it. And he minored in English literature, just because he likes to know the kinds of things that he's going to be putting on stage.

"Maybe." He said this with abandon, having been teased so much about the topic at hand that he really just didn't care if he got teased any more. "That would be interesting."

He rolled his shoulders in a shrug and tapped his fingers to his lips again, staring at the store. "In any case, I want to be a detective and I love the stars. I figure the Astronomy minor would just give me something to fall back on if nothing worked out with being a detective."

He wondered about this interrogation process, and didn't realize it was just Dave trying to get to know him a little better. People usually stopped at the whole getting to know him process after they found out how odd he was, so he wasn't used to all this attention.

Dave hadn't found out that Zoe was terribly odd, yet, though. He thought her choice of study paths a bit unusual, but hey, whatever floats your boat. He is a very laidback person.

"Sounds like fun. So what else d'you like to do, aside from watch action movies?"

Funny. She hasn't asked him anything since he told her that he'd graduated from university.

Oh well.

(OOC: God, sorry about this horrible post. I'm still not all the way awake.)

Zeke turned now, meeting Dave's eyes. One thing should be noted—Zeke has amazing eyes. They're naturally a lightish gray with a darker ring around the irises, and have been known to 'see the soul'. It doesn't help that his eyes are amplified by the glasses—even if Zeke has never gotten a lot of attention due to his behaviors, people seem to adore his eyes.

"I like studying ghosts," he said in all honesty. "And other paranormal stuff, like fae and elves and dragons and whatnot."

He kept his eyes on Dave's. "You?"

Wow. She had nice eyes. His own were just plain brown with flecks of green. Not exactly hazel, but not really anything else, either. Nondescript, in other words. Zoe's eyes, on the other hand... Wow.

And he'd thought she was just 'cute.'

Though that bit about paranormal stuff wasn't really his cup of tea. He spent too much time creating illusions--any magician who did some kind of special performance or whatever at the Bay Street had to talk to the crew, after all--to really believe in any of that stuff.

"Nothing like that. A bit of set design, a bit of graphics stuff, and my job. Gotta love the theatre."

Zeke tapped his lower lip again, looking contemplative. "Hm. Theatre. I've always been interested in that." He left out that his attraction was mainly because he believed all theatres were haunted. You could blame that on the Phantom of the Opera, but Zeke was notoriously undereducated about theatres in general. He just went by what he heard.

"I should visit one soon." He reached down to tie his shoe, glad that he was sitting down. It was bad enough that his shirt lifted a little, showing off some skin.

"Acting or tech?"

What? Most people who're interested in the theatre are either wannabe actors or... Actually, most people who were interested in theatre were wannabe actors who settled for tech work later, when they couldn't make it as actors.

Dave was one of the few who was actually interested in tech to start with.

And we won't draw attention to it, but Dave did sneak a look at the revealed skin.

What?

Zeke either didn't notice or wasn't paying attention—either way, he made no remark about Dave sneaking a peak at his back. Instead, he finished tying his shoe and straightened again, then turned to Dave and smiled. The effect lit up his eyes.

"The architecture."

So Zeke was a little weird. That was okay—who was he trying to impress?

"Mm. What about it? I mean, there're a lot of different ways theatres can be constructed. Stages in the round, theatres with huge proscenium arches, thrust stages... There're a lot."

He knows. He's worked in most of them, and all of them have certain quirks that make them irritating for crew and/or actors. Or both. Generally both, because actors and crew tend to find the most things to complain about that they can.

It must be a theatre thing.

"Everything," he said. "I've never really been in one, so I don't really know anything about them yet, but I've seen pictures. They look like they'd be haunted, and I wouldn't mind going exploring in one after hours."

Ah, Zeke. The nerd extraordinaire.

"Are there any secret compartments or halls or anything like that in your theatre?" Somewhere where ghosts could hide? He was getting excited—he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and keeping his excited gaze on Dave's eyes.

Dave chuckled. "Not that I know of... 'less you count the catwalks, but those aren't exactly secret, they're just not open to the general public." He grinned and shrugged, leaning back in the bench...

... and not so incidentally letting one arm lie along the back of the bench behind Zeke...

"'Course, every respectable theatre has its own ghost. You can't really have a good theatre without one." That's a common superstition--the newer theatres tend to not be old enough to have ghosts, but Bay Street's maybe old enough.

Maybe.

Anyway, Dave doesn't take the superstitions seriously, though he plays along, of course.

Once again, he was oblivious to the arm on the back of the bench. Instead, he fidgeted slightly with excitement.

"I'll have to check out Bay Street, then. Eventually. One day." Soon, but not in the godforsaken outfit he was wearing at that moment. If he had it his way, he would never wear a skirt again in his life. Hell, he had no idea how he got roped into wearing one now.

He leaned back, against the arm—not really noticing it was there because he was too caught up in his thoughts. In any case, he certainly wasn't soft like a woman. In fact, his back and shoulders seemed to be rather muscular...

"You play sports, Zoe?" Her back felt a little more muscular than he was used to, but sports--or dance or whatever--could account for that fairly easily. Though she didn't really look like the sporty type.

Oh well. Never judge by appearance.

And never mind that the change of subject seemed rather abrupt. Probably Zeke will notice the arm now, since, as he leaned against it, it wrapped itself more comfortably around her shoulders.

Dave apparently doesn't have any problems with touching people.

Zeke noticed.

Zeke ignored the question, because he was staring at Dave with huge eyes. That certainly spelled out flirtation.

"What the hell?!" He jumped up, looking flustered and embarrassed. "Look, I'm totally not homophobic, but I'm not gay!"

It seemed as if Zeke had forgotten that he was currently Zoe.

Okay, that was not the reaction he'd expected. And... gay? What?

He looked down at himself, an expression of pure confusion on his face that would have been comical under any other circumstances.

"... never been mistaken for a girl before..."

Now he had decided that Zoe was a little weird. Maybe more than a little.

Zeke gawked at Dave.

Oh.

Oh yeah.

He had no idea how to get himself out of this one.

Revealing that he was a boy could be potentially dangerous—embarrassment aside, this guy could very well be homophobic and Zeke could be at a risk of being beat up. Staying around, however, would mean that he would need some sort of explanation for his outburst.

This...was not good.

So, his options were:

A.) Explain to Dave that he was really a guy dressed up as a girl by his sadistic mother in order to sneak around a haunted movie store and risk being beat up or mocked or a little bit of both.
B.) Come up with some sort of explanation. Admit he thought Dave was a chick? Well, he could always use the excuse of being blonde, even though he despised that stereotype.
C.) Run away.

C sounded good.

"Um. It was nice meeting you, I should go now." He whirled around, skirt twirling, and started hastily towards the exit. Haunted video stores be damned, he had to get out of there.

"Uh?"

Well. That was... interesting.

Dave stood up, and with another confused look at where 'Zoe' had disappeared, shrugged and continued on his interrupted wandering way through the mall.

Maybe he would get a haircut or something.