Mel & Arthur | Investigative Methods
May. 26th, 2026 02:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_longshot posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsArthur and Melody visit a pawn shop in District X to investigate rumors surrounding a ring with possible empathic properties, with Mel accompanying and observing Arthur as a bit of team shadowing.
Lucky Lou’s Pawn & Loan squatted between a bodega and a laundromat like it was ashamed to be seen. The narrow front window displayed a few sad guitars, porcelain cats, and a sun-faded sign that read: CASH FOR JEWELRY / WILL BUY PHONES / NO PETS.
The blond man outside slowed his pace, taking it all in. The window glass was cloudy, reflecting the busy street behind him — delivery bikes, a double-parked cab, someone shouting about Knicks tickets. Much like the city that housed it, District X never slept; it just muttered to itself in fifty different languages beneath the smells of fried food and the press of mutant residents ranging from deeply proud to quietly desperate.
Arthur grinned. Perfect.
First, though, fit check. The man reset his jacket with a quick shrug and leaned back on his heels, pleased as if swaying faintly to a rhythm only he could hear.. He knew this block, knew this vibe, and knew more than half the locals who drifted through here looking to pawn a bad memory for twenty bucks. That was the trick, though. Luck wasn’t random if you listened hard enough. At least, not for Arthur Centino.
A push on the door and a cheerful bell jangled overhead, matching the man's mood.
“Alright,” Arthur commented as he and a brunette companion stepped into the cool air of the shop, “time to make a friend.”
Polarized aviator sunglasses got pushed to rest at the top of her head as Melody surveyed the space. Though perhaps a bit less sure of herself compared to the other mutant, the vibe was just as eager.
She trusted him, whatever it was they were doing.
“Still can’t believe they’ve got us on a buddy system,” Mel muttered quietly.
"Hey now," Arthur replied. "Historically speaking, I do much worse without adult supervision. Now, act casual. Do whatever I do."
That whatever was slow-going. Arthur moved like he was strolling into a party where he already knew half the guests. His gaze skimmed the aisles, finger of one ungloved hand hovering just above the display cases as if listening for a hidden beat without ever quite touching.
“Rumor says,” he said low for Mel, “Lou’s got a ring that's . . . special. Some swear it changes the color of your clothes to match your feelings. Others claim it makes everyone feel what you want.”
“Interestin’” Mel replied, eyeing one case of tarnished silver cups. “An actual mood ring.” She could see how such a thing could be unwise to keep unchecked.
Arthur blinked at her, then broke into a laugh that was way too loud for a room full of resale. He clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Right? Mood ring. But not the fun kind. More like, 'oops, now the whole room can feel I’m secretly panicking.' Try playing poker with that on your finger."
He staggered a step back, arms windmilling in mock horror, before recovering into an exaggerated lean against the nearest display case. "Of course, rumor mill’s never shy. Could just turn your finger green. Thing is . . . dangerous trinkets don’t care if they’re brass or blessed. So maybe —" he wagged a finger, half-warning, half-joking — "let’s not be the ones testing Lou’s return policy, huh? You wanted to see what we do, but let's play a game. Tell me what you see."
What she can see? Mel surveyed the store. It really seemed to be a whole lot of junk — but maybe that was the point. “Nothin’ of real value is out here. I reckon it’s all kept in the back.” She inspected a shelf full of porcelain figurines that were marked up in the double digits. “S’all jus’ priced like it is.”
“Exactly,” Arthur agreed. “The junk’s just decoration. What matters is where people linger, what they touch twice. See the case by the counter? Worn glass. That’s where the real stories are.”
He tilted his head slightly, leaving the next tell for her to catch.
Whatever was there, it was worth keeping an eye on. With Arthur's encouragement, Mel drifted closer, peeking at its contents without seeming overly interested. There was certainly a lot of jewelry. Real gems and precious metals as opposed to the glass and brass plated items that adorned a swiveling rack on a shelf to her right.
One ring stood out among the glitter. A simple silver band in need of a good polish.
"Alright! Step two." Arthur rocked back on his heels, grin flickering like a coin catching the light. "See Lou behind the counter? He’s got the key we need — literally. Go make friends. Ask about it like it’s just another shiny thing. Lou loves feeling like the smartest guy in the room, so let him. I read the ring, and we go home. Easy."
His tone dropped, half-conspiratorial, half-apologetic. "I’d do it myself, but Lou and I… have a bit of a history. I owe him a few stories, maybe a toaster.” He flashed her a smile. “Your turn, rookie."
Mel took a deep breath and slipped on her best southern smile, voice dripping honey as she finally came to the counter proper. "Well, don't ya have such a nice collection of things in here. I could spend all day lookin' 'round!" Her eyes took exaggerated interest in the items in the display case, as if she still didn't know what she wanted.
The man behind the counter turned languidly, elbows finding a lazy perch as he regarded Mel with a look balanced somewhere between suspicion and amusement. His smile never quite reached his eyes.
"Yeah, sure you could," Lou said, voice gravelly, pure Queens. "Most folks say that right before they ask how little I’ll take for somethin’ I ain’t sellin’. You lookin’ for a gift, sweetheart, or just killin’ time?"
Arthur, a few paces off, made a show of studying a shelf cluttered with tangled camera cords and forgotten electronics. He gave Mel a subtle thumbs-up behind his back, mouthing perfect.
"Oh, well, y'know. Graduation is fast approachin' ain't it. I've been lookin' for something to get ma sister - she's the ficklest thing when it comes to presents. Always was a bit keen on antiques an' all that, but a bit plain in her dress." It wasn't exactly throwing Paige under the bus if it was true. Mel grinned again, a bit conspiratorial this time.
Lou’s gaze flicked to the case and then back to her. He let the silence hang, thumb tracing the worn edge of the counter before he finally moved.
“That ain’t no antique, sweetheart,” he said, reaching for the key beneath the register. “Every week someone comes sniffin’ around for that ring — kids, collectors, lonely hearts. All swear it’s got magic in it.” The case clicked open. He looked up at her, eyes narrowing with dry amusement. “You know what I think?”
"What?" She leaned forward in a sort of motion that Mel hoped portrayed some naive curiosity.
He chuckled, plucking the ring from its velvet perch and turned it under the fluorescents.
"Everyone’s got a story about this thing,” he said. "Guy before you swore it could change colors with your feelings. Girl before him said it made her cat talk. People see what they want."
Up close, the band was dull, ordinary — just a bit of cheap silver with a faint etching inside that might’ve once been initials. The bell over the door jingled, drawing the owner's attention away.
Arthur had drifted closer, pretending to study a rack of VHS tapes, but his attention was on Mel.
"Well," he murmured, "either the nothing's there or it’s playin’ shy. What’s your read, rookie?”
Mel decided that the best way to find out was through trial and error. With Lou's back turned, she reached out to touch the ring, and felt a wave of something come over her. "Huh."
"Huh," Arthur echoed, sliding closer to study her expression without looking like he was trying to see her expression, "Where's that fall between 'huh, my hand fell asleep' and 'uh oh we poked a cursed object?"
"I'm.. not sure. Somewhere in-between that I reckon."
Arthur hummed softly, head tilting as if he were listening to a radio only he could hear. He reached for the object. "Alright," he said lightly, waggling his fingers, "time for me to go to work."
His eyes flicked to Mel. "You mind keeping our pal Lou entertained? Compliments, questions, existential dread. Dealer’s choice."
"Aye aye captain." The other customer had wandered off into one of the many aisles, leaving Mel face to face with the beast again. She slid down the counter some towards the watches at the other end, leaving room for Arthur to do his thing with the ring. "So, Mister Lou, ya got anything with a good story over here? Thinkin' of gettin' somethin fer my brother as well. He likes his accessories with character."
Meanwhile, Arthur took the ring lightly between two fingers — and immediately stilled.
The noise of the shop seemed to dull around him for half a second. Candlelight on black water. Salt air. Mourning clothes. A promise passed hand to hand. All a single, strong emotion. An heirloom.
Arthur exhaled once through his nose and blinked the vision away behind an easy grin.
"Well," he said quietly, turning the ring over in his palm, “that’s awkward. Whole neighborhood thinks this thing makes people feel things.” His gaze flicked toward Mel. "Turns out it was made just to remember."
He slipped the ring back to her deliberately.
"Your call, rookie. Take it or leave it?"
Lou had pointedly been ignoring her at this point, so Mel turned to gaze down at the simple ring. "Leave it. I reckon someone 'round these parts could use that more than us."
After all, life was full of loss, especially for those that the world hated and feared. Even as things moved on. But it was still nice to have something to remember by. Something to gaze down on your finger and smile, if only for a moment.
Lucky Lou’s Pawn & Loan squatted between a bodega and a laundromat like it was ashamed to be seen. The narrow front window displayed a few sad guitars, porcelain cats, and a sun-faded sign that read: CASH FOR JEWELRY / WILL BUY PHONES / NO PETS.
The blond man outside slowed his pace, taking it all in. The window glass was cloudy, reflecting the busy street behind him — delivery bikes, a double-parked cab, someone shouting about Knicks tickets. Much like the city that housed it, District X never slept; it just muttered to itself in fifty different languages beneath the smells of fried food and the press of mutant residents ranging from deeply proud to quietly desperate.
Arthur grinned. Perfect.
First, though, fit check. The man reset his jacket with a quick shrug and leaned back on his heels, pleased as if swaying faintly to a rhythm only he could hear.. He knew this block, knew this vibe, and knew more than half the locals who drifted through here looking to pawn a bad memory for twenty bucks. That was the trick, though. Luck wasn’t random if you listened hard enough. At least, not for Arthur Centino.
A push on the door and a cheerful bell jangled overhead, matching the man's mood.
“Alright,” Arthur commented as he and a brunette companion stepped into the cool air of the shop, “time to make a friend.”
Polarized aviator sunglasses got pushed to rest at the top of her head as Melody surveyed the space. Though perhaps a bit less sure of herself compared to the other mutant, the vibe was just as eager.
She trusted him, whatever it was they were doing.
“Still can’t believe they’ve got us on a buddy system,” Mel muttered quietly.
"Hey now," Arthur replied. "Historically speaking, I do much worse without adult supervision. Now, act casual. Do whatever I do."
That whatever was slow-going. Arthur moved like he was strolling into a party where he already knew half the guests. His gaze skimmed the aisles, finger of one ungloved hand hovering just above the display cases as if listening for a hidden beat without ever quite touching.
“Rumor says,” he said low for Mel, “Lou’s got a ring that's . . . special. Some swear it changes the color of your clothes to match your feelings. Others claim it makes everyone feel what you want.”
“Interestin’” Mel replied, eyeing one case of tarnished silver cups. “An actual mood ring.” She could see how such a thing could be unwise to keep unchecked.
Arthur blinked at her, then broke into a laugh that was way too loud for a room full of resale. He clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Right? Mood ring. But not the fun kind. More like, 'oops, now the whole room can feel I’m secretly panicking.' Try playing poker with that on your finger."
He staggered a step back, arms windmilling in mock horror, before recovering into an exaggerated lean against the nearest display case. "Of course, rumor mill’s never shy. Could just turn your finger green. Thing is . . . dangerous trinkets don’t care if they’re brass or blessed. So maybe —" he wagged a finger, half-warning, half-joking — "let’s not be the ones testing Lou’s return policy, huh? You wanted to see what we do, but let's play a game. Tell me what you see."
What she can see? Mel surveyed the store. It really seemed to be a whole lot of junk — but maybe that was the point. “Nothin’ of real value is out here. I reckon it’s all kept in the back.” She inspected a shelf full of porcelain figurines that were marked up in the double digits. “S’all jus’ priced like it is.”
“Exactly,” Arthur agreed. “The junk’s just decoration. What matters is where people linger, what they touch twice. See the case by the counter? Worn glass. That’s where the real stories are.”
He tilted his head slightly, leaving the next tell for her to catch.
Whatever was there, it was worth keeping an eye on. With Arthur's encouragement, Mel drifted closer, peeking at its contents without seeming overly interested. There was certainly a lot of jewelry. Real gems and precious metals as opposed to the glass and brass plated items that adorned a swiveling rack on a shelf to her right.
One ring stood out among the glitter. A simple silver band in need of a good polish.
"Alright! Step two." Arthur rocked back on his heels, grin flickering like a coin catching the light. "See Lou behind the counter? He’s got the key we need — literally. Go make friends. Ask about it like it’s just another shiny thing. Lou loves feeling like the smartest guy in the room, so let him. I read the ring, and we go home. Easy."
His tone dropped, half-conspiratorial, half-apologetic. "I’d do it myself, but Lou and I… have a bit of a history. I owe him a few stories, maybe a toaster.” He flashed her a smile. “Your turn, rookie."
Mel took a deep breath and slipped on her best southern smile, voice dripping honey as she finally came to the counter proper. "Well, don't ya have such a nice collection of things in here. I could spend all day lookin' 'round!" Her eyes took exaggerated interest in the items in the display case, as if she still didn't know what she wanted.
The man behind the counter turned languidly, elbows finding a lazy perch as he regarded Mel with a look balanced somewhere between suspicion and amusement. His smile never quite reached his eyes.
"Yeah, sure you could," Lou said, voice gravelly, pure Queens. "Most folks say that right before they ask how little I’ll take for somethin’ I ain’t sellin’. You lookin’ for a gift, sweetheart, or just killin’ time?"
Arthur, a few paces off, made a show of studying a shelf cluttered with tangled camera cords and forgotten electronics. He gave Mel a subtle thumbs-up behind his back, mouthing perfect.
"Oh, well, y'know. Graduation is fast approachin' ain't it. I've been lookin' for something to get ma sister - she's the ficklest thing when it comes to presents. Always was a bit keen on antiques an' all that, but a bit plain in her dress." It wasn't exactly throwing Paige under the bus if it was true. Mel grinned again, a bit conspiratorial this time.
Lou’s gaze flicked to the case and then back to her. He let the silence hang, thumb tracing the worn edge of the counter before he finally moved.
“That ain’t no antique, sweetheart,” he said, reaching for the key beneath the register. “Every week someone comes sniffin’ around for that ring — kids, collectors, lonely hearts. All swear it’s got magic in it.” The case clicked open. He looked up at her, eyes narrowing with dry amusement. “You know what I think?”
"What?" She leaned forward in a sort of motion that Mel hoped portrayed some naive curiosity.
He chuckled, plucking the ring from its velvet perch and turned it under the fluorescents.
"Everyone’s got a story about this thing,” he said. "Guy before you swore it could change colors with your feelings. Girl before him said it made her cat talk. People see what they want."
Up close, the band was dull, ordinary — just a bit of cheap silver with a faint etching inside that might’ve once been initials. The bell over the door jingled, drawing the owner's attention away.
Arthur had drifted closer, pretending to study a rack of VHS tapes, but his attention was on Mel.
"Well," he murmured, "either the nothing's there or it’s playin’ shy. What’s your read, rookie?”
Mel decided that the best way to find out was through trial and error. With Lou's back turned, she reached out to touch the ring, and felt a wave of something come over her. "Huh."
"Huh," Arthur echoed, sliding closer to study her expression without looking like he was trying to see her expression, "Where's that fall between 'huh, my hand fell asleep' and 'uh oh we poked a cursed object?"
"I'm.. not sure. Somewhere in-between that I reckon."
Arthur hummed softly, head tilting as if he were listening to a radio only he could hear. He reached for the object. "Alright," he said lightly, waggling his fingers, "time for me to go to work."
His eyes flicked to Mel. "You mind keeping our pal Lou entertained? Compliments, questions, existential dread. Dealer’s choice."
"Aye aye captain." The other customer had wandered off into one of the many aisles, leaving Mel face to face with the beast again. She slid down the counter some towards the watches at the other end, leaving room for Arthur to do his thing with the ring. "So, Mister Lou, ya got anything with a good story over here? Thinkin' of gettin' somethin fer my brother as well. He likes his accessories with character."
Meanwhile, Arthur took the ring lightly between two fingers — and immediately stilled.
The noise of the shop seemed to dull around him for half a second. Candlelight on black water. Salt air. Mourning clothes. A promise passed hand to hand. All a single, strong emotion. An heirloom.
Arthur exhaled once through his nose and blinked the vision away behind an easy grin.
"Well," he said quietly, turning the ring over in his palm, “that’s awkward. Whole neighborhood thinks this thing makes people feel things.” His gaze flicked toward Mel. "Turns out it was made just to remember."
He slipped the ring back to her deliberately.
"Your call, rookie. Take it or leave it?"
Lou had pointedly been ignoring her at this point, so Mel turned to gaze down at the simple ring. "Leave it. I reckon someone 'round these parts could use that more than us."
After all, life was full of loss, especially for those that the world hated and feared. Even as things moved on. But it was still nice to have something to remember by. Something to gaze down on your finger and smile, if only for a moment.
