tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; Afternoon, April 30th
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Booth

passionforshoes
Summary; Booth needs more shoes.
Log; Apparently, Booth needed more shoes. It wasn't that he thought he needed more but ever since talking to Cindy, he had been paranoid about the fact that he was walking around with the wrong shoes with the wrong outfit. Booth didn't even care but he hated the idea that someone who did care might be noticing.

So he was going to The Glass Slipper to get Cindy's help with getting the right kind of shoes. Thankfully he only had a few suits or times of clothes so hopefully he didn't need 30 pairs of shoes or something ridiculous like that.

Besides, Cindy didn't sound too crazy when he talked to her on the network, so hopefully she would be practical about it. And hopefully being cursed to tell the truth wouldn't be too much of a problem for him.

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Thirty pairs of shoes was not a ridiculous thing. At least not to Cindy, she of the triple digit footwear collection. No person, human, Fable or otherwise should only have three pairs of shoes like a certain somebody in her eyes. That was just a crime against humanity.

Cindy was alone in the store, counting out the register in preparation of closing early for a little trip underground again. Lumi was still out there with Kay and she needed all the weapons she could get.

Booth pushed opened the door and glanced around inside. There were a lot of shoes inside the place. And not 10 types with boxes and boxes of different sizes, there were a lot of different styles of shoes.

"Hello?" he called out as he stepped all the way in. "I came here because apparently three pairs of shoes are far too few. Which, I disagree with, but a few more can't hurt."

Cindy paused in dropping a few blues into the drawer with the little bell on the shop's door jingled. She cursed inwardly at the fact she had somehow forgotten to lock the door before doing anything else.

"No, a few more definitely won't hurt." Cindy puts on her 'give me your money' smile as she let the last few coins slip out her fingers before pushing the register closed. "And I know who you are, Sir I Wear The Same Shoe With Everything."

"Special Agent I Wear The Same Shoe With Everything," Booth corrected, giving her a smile back. Okay, Cindy was definitely an attractive woman, and maybe that had played a small part in coming to visit her instead of going somewhere else.

"So can you explain why my black Oxford's don't got with all my suits?" he asked.

"I can, Special Agent I Like To Drop My Job Title To Impress People." Special Agent, huh? Cindy smiled wrly at Booth. She had a instant mistrust of any officer of the law, but wisely kept it off her face. She sure hoped that she pushed that pistol that she kept under the counter for in-house security was still unhidden. No need to get busted for nothing.

"Because those," Cindy replied as she leaned over to point down to his feet, "look more like orthopedic walking shoes than anything you should wear with a suit."

"Hey, you were giving me a title so I thought I'd correct it with the right one," he said with an easy shrug. Truth of the matter was he had introduced himself as Special Agent Seeley Booth so many times he felt like the whole thing was his name.

"Okay, I know these aren't the most appropriate shoes," he said. "But when you have to walk around as much as you do in the City, I wanted something comfortable."

Cindy stepped from behind the register and walked across the floor without saying a word. She was her zone. If Booth was an agent, he probably did more than a little walking along with a quite a bit of running. He needed something sturdy and flexible if he really was the type to wear the same shoe over and over. Her eyes strolled along the wall for a few seconds until her view landed one of the latest styles that she'd received. Pulling it off the display rack, she flipped it around her hands a couple times before turning back to Booth.

"Comfortable does not have to mean ugly, my dear," Cindy advised as she held out the shoe to him. "John Fluevog's Geoff. Leather uppers with with a rubber sole for traction. Looks good and does a damn good job while doing it. Guaranteed to get you laid."

Professionalism? What's that?

Edited 2009-05-01 04:01 (UTC)

He watched the way the woman looked out over the shoes and could tell that she was passionate about her job. It reminded him a bit of how Brennan would look over a skeleton at times. Which, now seemed really creepy.

"I don't need a shoes help to get me laid," Booth said. He'd liked to have been able to blame that one on the curse the he knew it was all Booth speaking there.

"I just need something that I can walk around and run in that doesn't hurt," he added. "And these will go with any black or gray suit I wear?"

"You don't, but it sure helps. Trust me. No woman wants a man wearing beat up shoes with a nice suit," Cindy answered. Granted, she knew there were women who weren't as crazy about shoes as she was, but they didn't spend most of their life barefoot until their fairy godmother showed up on the scene. They didn't know what was good for them.

"And yes, if the shade of grey is the one you're wearing. Now, your size."

"If a woman would not want to be in a relationship with me because of my shoes, she's not the type of woman I want to be in a relationship with," Booth said, matter-of-factly. That was kind of a minor thing to be hung up on, but he had seen people be crazy about less.

"And yeah, they're all pretty much like this," Booth admitted. "And I'm size twelve, slightly wider than normal."

Cindy wanted to roll her eyes at what sounded like a defensive response to her but instead she bent down to rummage around in the cabinets below the display for the particular size.

"So, special agent. Not just a regular agent?" she asksedafter she grabbing a shoe horn and hands it and the box of shoes to Booth. It was an attempt at small talk on the outside, but Cindy was a spy to the bone. Every question she asked was an attempt at information mining. She'd never know when it would come in handy.

"All FBI Agents are actually Special Agents," Booth admitted. He would have liked to have said it was because he was exceptional, but there was no thing as a regular agent at the FBI.

"Before Hoover FBI Agents couldn't arrest people or carry guns without special permission," he explained, taking the box and the shoe horn and sitting down to try on the shoes. "He got them all permission to arrest and carry weapons, making them all 'special' agents."

Smile and nod, smile and nod. That was basically Cindy's response to Booth's babble. She remembered Hoover. Good old Hoover. Actually, she didn't give a shit about the old fart then and she didn't give a shit now.

She stands and watches him try on the shoes while just humming some sort of approval. "Interesting. I never knew." She never cared either. Give her something interesting, Booth.

"Nobody ever knows," he said, standing up and testing how the shoes feel. "Because it's a really boring answer that no one really cares about. The only reason I know the answer is because I get asked all the time."

He took a few experimental steps, bouncing a little in the shoes.

"Okay, come clean," he said. "You're some sort of shoe fairy, aren't you? These are really comfortable."

Sure was a boring answer. It didn't tell her anything she could sink her teeth into or anything she could use in the future. "Really? Why FBI? Why not a regular old street beat cop?" Maybe that would get things going.

There was a none too small look of pride on Cindy's face. This sale was going as well as she hoped. "Nope. My behavior is too atrocious to be a fairy. I just know my footwear." That was technically true. Cinderella was better off being the proverbial rags to riches story than a flying bitch with glitter coming out her butt.

"Fifty-one confirmed kills," Booth found himself saying before he could stop himself. Suddenly the curse was feeling a bit less harmless, no one wanted to hear his sob story. "46 of them as a sniper in the Army. When I got out I wanted to do something to atone for all those deaths. Besides, I'm good at what I do."

Booth scowled, that really wasn't something he wanted to share with the shoe lady.

Cindy gives a low whistle, giving an air of false shock. She'd never counted how many lives she'd ended and nor did she feel any remorse for them, but she probably beat him in that department. That would take up way too much time in her busy schedule and plus, those fuckers deserved every last bullet, broken neck, and bat to the head.

Seeing the expression on his face told Cindy a lot more than his words did. "Did they deserve it?"

"Yes," he said, not even hesitating. He had never taken a life of someone that wasn't a bad person, but he still struggled with the morality of it all. Not that the struggle had ever stopped him from killing again, it just drove him that much more to help people.

"I'm sorry, you probably don't care, it's this stupid curse," he explained. "Normally I would just tell you it's because I want to help people."

"It's interesting. Better than hearing about the weather," Cindy admitted That was the truth. For a Mundy to take that many lives mean this guy had a lot going for him. She'd have to keep an eye on him.

"I rather you tell me the truth than an outright lie."

"I wouldn't tell you a lie," Booth said, which was a bit of truth that he didn't mind telling her. He tried to be an honest person. "I would just prefer it to be my choice."

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Log; Ongoing

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