Especially since just the quick trek along the sidewalk has got him shivering once more, teeth chattering.
"Large works. L." Jeremy does not usually wear shirts classy enough to use numbers, okay, not when you can grab T-shirts extremely cheaply at many places in Las Vegas. "Doesn't gotta be fancy, hon, just a T-shirt-- make that sweatshirt, snowwwwww-- and ooh look at all the clothes."
This is motivated by being cold rather than being any sort of clothes-hound. Excepting a few times where Charlie has harangued him into dressing up, Jeremy's wardrobe usually never climbs beyond 'college student', despite the fact that he should have outgrown Converse sneakers and band t-shirts a decade ago.
Hell, if it wasn't so cold he wouldn't really mind being in the city in nothing but his skivvies. But it is cold.
Fortunately though for Metody's bank balance, Jeremy's usual wardrobe is born out of cheapness too, and he's not so distracted right now that he forgets to look at price tags. A hundred-dollar (or whatever the weird symbol is) pair of jeans get tossed back onto the display, and Jeremy's head swivels and homes in on the rack in the back saying CLEARANCE! SALE SALE SALE!
The cashier is giving him the stinkeye at his state of undress; Jeremy offers her a big wave and smile as he snags a pair of battered looking jeans-- checks the size and price-- and drops his blanket to start tugging them on right there between the racks. What are dressing rooms?
They fit, they're marked down to eighteen bucks, he's not complaining.
no subject
Especially since just the quick trek along the sidewalk has got him shivering once more, teeth chattering.
"Large works. L." Jeremy does not usually wear shirts classy enough to use numbers, okay, not when you can grab T-shirts extremely cheaply at many places in Las Vegas. "Doesn't gotta be fancy, hon, just a T-shirt-- make that sweatshirt, snowwwwww-- and ooh look at all the clothes."
This is motivated by being cold rather than being any sort of clothes-hound. Excepting a few times where Charlie has harangued him into dressing up, Jeremy's wardrobe usually never climbs beyond 'college student', despite the fact that he should have outgrown Converse sneakers and band t-shirts a decade ago.
Hell, if it wasn't so cold he wouldn't really mind being in the city in nothing but his skivvies. But it is cold.
Fortunately though for Metody's bank balance, Jeremy's usual wardrobe is born out of cheapness too, and he's not so distracted right now that he forgets to look at price tags. A hundred-dollar (or whatever the weird symbol is) pair of jeans get tossed back onto the display, and Jeremy's head swivels and homes in on the rack in the back saying CLEARANCE! SALE SALE SALE!
The cashier is giving him the stinkeye at his state of undress; Jeremy offers her a big wave and smile as he snags a pair of battered looking jeans-- checks the size and price-- and drops his blanket to start tugging them on right there between the racks. What are dressing rooms?
They fit, they're marked down to eighteen bucks, he's not complaining.