Starring:
Summary: Bette comes into Lin Sister Herbal for some tea and gets ogled, hit on, and challenged to acupuncture. RENT is involved.
Date It Happened: February 1st 2002
Alternative Medicine
First of February and Lin Sister Herbal is as dull as ever — dull for Junayd, that is. He's just finished helping an old Asian woman with a massive order of ginseng and got plenty of gratuitous old-lady-flirting for his trouble. Now the store is empty and he's enjoying the riveting task of Stocking Shelves. Oh boy. It's so fun. The Israeli is perched up on a stepladder as he pulls out jars and boxes and fills them from a tall table of various herbs and teas. In his ears are a pair of buds and in one of his many pockets is an MP3 player. What it's playing? It's fairly obvious.
"Ever since puberty, everybody stares at me~ Boys, girls, I can't help it, baby~" Junayd bellows aloud in a baritone that is not at all classically trained (but at least he's not completely off-tune?).
There are some people who very obviously have their minds made up before ever setting foot in a store such as Lin Sister Herbal. Elizabeta Montagne is one of those people, pre-judging the place even as she steps inside as a customer. Said customer wears a tailored, tan-coloured trenchcoat over her sapphire blue shirt and darkly-coloured pants, and her dark, vibrant hair is straight and sleek, hanging just to the middle of her long neck. The doctor's arched brows knit together in vague criticism as she lets the door close behind her. Herbal remedies? Acupuncture? Bette just wants some tea. She didn't ask for a serenade, either, but the belting baritone causes her to smirk in the direction of the man on the stepladder. Her critical look, paired with the smirk, makes for an altogether haughty expression.
"So be kind and don't lose your miiind~" continues Junayd in a growing crescendo of confidence. Hey, it's not like anyone is around, right? He can belt it if he so chooses, because his love for Idina is true and he will not be ashamed of it. "Just remember that I am your baaa-aaaby~" He hops down off the ladder and picks up a box in a graceful whirl worthy of the finest of backup dancers. "TAKE ME FOR WHAT I AAA— "
— oh look, is that a customer?
Junayd pauses with the box held in both hands and sizes up this new face — and legs. And boobs. Especially legs and boobs. Without even the slightest hint of embarrassment, a slow grin spreads across his face. why hello there. One hand goes up to remove a bud from his ear and he cocks his head to one side. "Well hello," he purrs. "How may I help you?" He's got a few ideas. None of them involve tea.
One hand naturally coming to rest on her hip — made all the more angular but the cut of her coat, the belt cinched neatly around her waist — the woman continues to regard Junayd, expression exactly the same except for the amping up of her smirk. Bette opens her mouth to answer, but takes a moment to size up the would-be Broadway star, first. "…RENT, huh. Well, you're no Idina Menzel, but…" She gives a conceding shrug and lift of her brows. Then, a glance to the shelf he was just stocking. "I just need some tea."
Of course Junayd is no Idina Menzel. Nobody could ever be on par with such a goddess. Mere mortals could not hold a candle to her radiance. Angels weep with joy whenever she releases the sounds of heaven from her glorious and beautiful throat.
But of course, Junayd doesn't voice this aloud. Bette is no Idina Menzel either, but hey, he'll take it. "Well then you've come to the right place," he intones as he sets aside the box and pauses the MP3 player. "We have a very wide selection of teas, from darjeeling to Dragonwater." Because the last one is an aphrodisiac and he just had to throw it in there. "Any particular kind?"
Bette's eyes follow the apparent employee,, one eyebrow remaining slightly arched the entire time. "I don't want anything with 'dragon' in the name," she gets that out of the way first. "Just relaxing tea, you know, chamomile and things like that." She takes a step toward the assortment. "I'm sure I can find them myself."
Typical employee etiquette would indicate that Junayd is supposed to leave Bette alone to get her selection. Junayd is not a typical employee. But he also knows better than to do something that would get him reported to Emeline later. So he indicates a shelf nearby with a wave of his hand. "By all means. Let me know if you need anything."
Then he just sits back with arms crossed over his chest and watches, smiling all the while. Hey, nobody said he had to actually work while there were nice things to look at in the shop.
Indeed, Bette peruses the selection, eyeing tea after tea variety, touching a few of the containers as she goes along. It takes awhile, since there are so many types, many of which she'd never even consider. She ignores Junayd during this whole process, even though she's acutely aware that she's being watched. She plucks two boxes from a shelf — even one of the higher shelves she has no trouble with — English chamomile and spearmint. It's one of the loose leaf blends in a jar that she finally obliges Junayd's help for, glancing over expectantly. Fetch me tea, store minion.
Hey, Junayd's got no issue with Bette stretching up to get stuff from the higher shelves herself. All the more for him to ogle, natch. When she pauses and glances at him expectantly, he smiles wider and cocks an eyebrow with a cant of his head. "Need something?" Gotta ask for it~
That is crucial staff failure, as far as Bette is concerned. She runs a tight ship. I mean, come on, she's clearly in need of assistance! Raising an eyebrow an increment more at Junayd, she twirls the cover off the jar of tea and gestures with it, casually flippant. "Can you get me some of this kind?" she asks — politely, for all her criticism. "Please? I don't need much."
This only seems to amuse Junayd. Then again, he just loves annoying people. Or maybe he likes making pretty women ask for things. Or both. Who knows? He pushes himself up from the stepladder and moves forward to take the jar, probably getting too close for comfort in the whole 'personal space' department, then heads over to the counter to get a bag and the tea scoop. "This is a good blend, one of my favorites," he adds over his shoulder conversationally. "How much would you like?"
"Oh, it comes with a gold star," Bette comments in an 'is that so?' tone after Junayd gives his opinion of the blend. She doesn't move as he swoops in to do his tea duty, calmly and patiently (sort of) waiting — which she continues to do, turning her back slightly to the shelf of teas, boxes in hand, once the man heads for the counter. "An ounce or two. Wing it."
It's a good thing Junayd's too huge and heavily protected to get pricked by tiny little remarks. This is what is known as Not Getting A Clue in some circles. In his world, it's called Confidence. He quickly measures out an appropriate amount of tea into a small bag and ties it off before turning and holding it out to Bette. "If you like this one, you might try— " he tapers off as he slides over to the shelf and examines the contents, finally settling on a jar and withdrawing it. It's held out to Bette.
Bette takes the tea she asked for with a smile, the bag swinging to and fro in her hand for a moment. "Hm?" Shuffling the various teas about in her hands, balancing it all one-sidedly, she accepts the proffered jar with a questioning look to Junayd. She reads the name. It only takes her a few seconds to scan the ingredients; she's familiar with botany, but not the more esoteric properties of herbs. "…wwwwhhy exactly?"
Junayd shrugs a little, grinning. "I've just found they're pretty similar, and this one's got a good flavor to it." Okay, so it's a little lie. Aphrodisiacs are relaxing, right? This one's more mild than some of the other teas they've got in that category, but.
Bette looks notably skeptical, but shrugs. "Sure," she agrees pleasantly enough. "Why not." If her attire is any indication, she can afford a bit of tea she probably doesn't need. She hands the jar back to Junayd — for him to dish some out, evidently. "As long as it's not some alternative hocus pocus like the rest of this place."
Ooh, a skeptic! These are always fun. Junayd grins wider and takes the jar, discreetly flaring his nostrils and taking in a few good whiffs of the woman. Hmm. Sterility, blood, medications. Hospital. He takes the jar back over to the counter to scoop out another bag — a bit of a smaller amount this time, but only because it's a sample. "You don't believe in it, hm? Let me guess: you're a doctor." Cheater.
Elizabeta eyes Junayd. She saunters toward the counter, coming to stand in front of it. "I am," she confirms, unable to mask the hint of self-righteousness that comes along with her answer. "I'm a neurosurgeon." That's an important title that she feels the need to add. "And you're right, I think most of this is a sham."
Junayd lets out a quiet little snort of amusement. Neurosurgeon. Sure, he's got a healthy enough respect for doctors, but they're really useless against, say, a werewolf. "That's because you've been trained to keep your mind closed," he remarks, tying off the bag and handing it to Bette. "You'd be surprised how much of it isn't a sham." Then he hops over the counter and moves to the register, rattling off her total.
"I have an open mind," the neurosurgeon says as she fishes her wallet from her purse — shiny, black, designer and large enough to house a small arsenal — and flashes her debit card at Junayd. "I just know how to filter crap from reality," she says matter-of-factly, but not without a little smile. Maybe she likes debates.
"Do you? Pray tell." Junayd zips the debit card through the reader, passes it over for the PIN to be entered. All the while, he continues to smile secretively. He loves debates. He loves women with killer bodies, too. This is like some kind of double-awesome for him.
Bette, barely looking as she enters her pin number, doesn't skip a beat. "I mean, acupuncture? Come on. Needles are best used in syringes and actual medicine. There's not enough research for all these crazy Eastern so-called therapies." Interac machine handed back, card slipped back away, she expectantly waits for Junayd's reaction.
Junayd is doing his best not to laugh, actually. "So how do you explain its effectiveness?" he asks in a chuckle. Bette is officially hilarious. Hot! But hilarious. It's cute, in its own weird way.
Bette does not find Junayd hilarious. In fact, she appears to be somewhat annoyed at his confidence. "I don't," she says, still completely sure of herself. She gives a little scoffing laugh, oneside of her earthy-hued lips quirking up in a smirk. "Because it doesn't work. It has to be all in the patients' minds — don't get me wrong, the placebo effect has real benefits, we've been using it for years." The redhead glances around Lin Sister Herbal, particularly at the posters on the walls. "Do you do any of this stuff?"
"It does, hm?" Said with that same sort of amusement. Junayd glances at the posters as well, and damn, he sure wishes he did know how to properly perform acupuncture or acupressure. It'd be a great excuse to get her naked and make a point (no pun intended). He shakes his head, crossing his arms and leaning on the counter top. "I don't, but I know a few very talented accupuncturists. You really ought to give it a try before you start making statements about how well it does or doesn't work. In fact, I could probably get you a session for free." He smirks, raises an eyebrow. "That is, if you were really a scientist and wanted to test your hypothesis."
"I have more important things to spend my time on than getting stabbed with hundreds of tiny needles, scientific exploration or no," Bette responds, smoothly shooting down the offer. She hitches her purse over her shoulder and makes a swipe for her purchases. She smiles, however, even if it's partially a smirk. "But thanks anyway. And for the tea."
Junayd frowns and tsk-tsks disapprovingly. "For an open-minded neurosurgeon, you're sure comfortable remaining in your tiny box of perception," he remarks. He's soon smirking again, however. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me." And he at least has a vague idea as to where he can find her.
"I'm not narrow-minded, I'm busy, there's a difference," the doctor remarks as she starts to turn away with her tea in her possession. "And on that note, I have to go back to the land of real medicine." Snap. A glint in her eye, Bette looks over her shoulder, lifts her bag in a little gesture of thanks, grins, and heads for the door.
