You are now John Egbert again. And dang it if you don't want to say to hell with politeness and grab your beloved Cage movie and make a break for it. But you already told the guy he could have it. You kick yourself for that. Why did you do that? It was almost a knee-jerk reaction. It was the kind of thing all the good guys do in the movies.
You watch as he mulls the situation over in his head. He clearly doesn't know what to do either. This whole thing is becoming increasingly awkward, because both of you want this movie, and both of you are too nice to just take it and run.
You turn back to the shelf and give it a good scan. Maybe there is another movie that can fill the growing chasm of need for the brilliance of Mr Cage. Everything is checked out. How odd. This must be one popular video rental store. Is that even still a thing that happens? Didn't video rental stores go out of style with the Y2K bug and ridiculous boy bands?
The guy seems to be doing the same thing. Checking for another movie, but he too is coming up empty handed. He picks up a movie by the wildly bizarre and cutting edge director Dave Strider before rolling his eyes ever so slightly and placing it back on the shelf. You agree. Compared the brilliance of National Treasure, Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff: The Movovie is just a bunch of weird hoopla.
You catch the other guy's gaze and ask what some hardcore movie buffs might consider to be heresy, "So, not a fan of the infamous Dave Strider?"
"I wouldn't say that," the guy replies.
You nod your head sagely. "That's right, you prefer movies about giant blue catwomen."
He doesn't disagree. He just keeps his gaze fixed on your face and finally says, "...Well, yeah. I suppose I do."
This guy is kind of bizarre, but you almost appreciate that he is standing here and having an awkward conversation with you in a video rental store. You almost don't want this interaction to end. The guy seems genuinely nice. And even though you don't even know his name, you can't stop yourself from asking him one burning question. You know you shouldn't. He is a complete stranger, but you can't help yourself.
"So..." you begin, not knowing how exactly to propose this to your new acquaintance. You hope to high heaven that this guy isn't a serial killer. "Would you...would you like to maybe come watch National Treasure with me back at my place?"
John: Ask something (Fill Dirk<3Jake<3Jane<3Roxy)
You watch as he mulls the situation over in his head. He clearly doesn't know what to do either. This whole thing is becoming increasingly awkward, because both of you want this movie, and both of you are too nice to just take it and run.
You turn back to the shelf and give it a good scan. Maybe there is another movie that can fill the growing chasm of need for the brilliance of Mr Cage. Everything is checked out. How odd. This must be one popular video rental store. Is that even still a thing that happens? Didn't video rental stores go out of style with the Y2K bug and ridiculous boy bands?
The guy seems to be doing the same thing. Checking for another movie, but he too is coming up empty handed. He picks up a movie by the wildly bizarre and cutting edge director Dave Strider before rolling his eyes ever so slightly and placing it back on the shelf. You agree. Compared the brilliance of National Treasure, Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff: The Movovie is just a bunch of weird hoopla.
You catch the other guy's gaze and ask what some hardcore movie buffs might consider to be heresy, "So, not a fan of the infamous Dave Strider?"
"I wouldn't say that," the guy replies.
You nod your head sagely. "That's right, you prefer movies about giant blue catwomen."
He doesn't disagree. He just keeps his gaze fixed on your face and finally says, "...Well, yeah. I suppose I do."
This guy is kind of bizarre, but you almost appreciate that he is standing here and having an awkward conversation with you in a video rental store. You almost don't want this interaction to end. The guy seems genuinely nice. And even though you don't even know his name, you can't stop yourself from asking him one burning question. You know you shouldn't. He is a complete stranger, but you can't help yourself.
"So..." you begin, not knowing how exactly to propose this to your new acquaintance. You hope to high heaven that this guy isn't a serial killer. "Would you...would you like to maybe come watch National Treasure with me back at my place?"
>Jake: answer this intriguing stranger