Day 28: Bill's Hardware

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Could Nami be acting any more natural? Could her smile be any more confident?

Perhaps, although she'd done this what seemed like thousands of times, on her way to make the millions of beli she needed to free her town. And while pirates were her usual targets, stealing pirates' booty held with it the threat of death. Here? The worst that would happen to them was a scolding look and a mild sedation. Nothing big, right..?

..Unless they took her and made her do the things that Luffy had been forced to do. That wouldn't be very fun.

Still, she was going to undertake this job with the utmost professionalism; just because they were on a different planet didn't mean that she would stop stealing things like she meant it.

Nami let herself into the store as if she were a regular. She looked around slowly - at first glance it seemed that it was a normal hardware store. Maybe with a bit better technology, but she could certainly deal with that.

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[sasuke-of-sound.livejournal.com]

There was a fair bit of murmuring in the store -- apparently whoever had last been in here had caused a bit of mess. That could only work to Sasuke's advantage, though.

With a bit of too-friendly direction from people in the store (and, a little more worryingly, what sounded like Landel's staff) Sasuke managed to find the 'building crafts' section and wave off what had sounded like a middle-aged sort, too interested in what Sasuke planned to build. Somewhere, though, he had to thank his nurse for forcing a sweatshirt on him this morning.

Under pretense of feeling a few rolls of wire for weight, he tore the tags off and slid them over his wrists and into his sleeve, rolling them up once he'd gotten two onto each wrist and shoving the coils of wire up with them. Thank shinobi training for teaching all the most effective ways to hide miscellaneous items up sleeves -- hopefully the nurses wouldn't be too exacting in the search.

A bit more fumbling found a handful of long nails that would do for senbon in a pinch; Sasuke tucked them into his waistband under pretence of scratching an itch. They scratched and pressed rather more painfully into his hip than the pens had with the looser Landel's uniform -- who the hell wore material this thick this tightly, anyway?

He'd just groped his way to another display when the same too-interested man's voice sounded again, asking if he was particularly interested in anything.

"Just looking," he muttered. "We don't have any money. I'll head out if it's trouble."

A moment later, he decided that if the townspeople here had one thing in common, it was that they were disturbingly solicitous. It took far too long to convince the man that he didn't need to stay and look at anything he needed, and entirely too much talking to get out of the shop, although he finally did.

And now to hope that his nurse was as bad about searching him for new additions to his wardrobe as whoever owned that shop.