Your nostrils flare during the ride, a number of smells meeting your nose. Pines, fresh snow, the musty, sweaty odor of the groundskeeper driving the snowmobile, the acrid scent of fuel and oil. Your ears ring with the sound of the engine, dying down as you come to a halt in front of the ski shop. You stand, shaking the snow from your tresses in a new, but oddly familiar and satisfying motion, a spirited whip of your head.
"We're going to go get a cuppa before we head back. We'll wait awhile if ya need a ride," Jeff says, with another uneven smile.
"I shouldn't be long," you say as you realize these two are still your best ticket to get around.
"Hey, I ain't judgin'," Jeff replies with a chuckle as he and Jake head away from the snowmobiles. You shake your head at him as he walks away, curling your lip as a faint snarl escapes your mouth. Unbidden, but it feels... right, and besides which he seems not to have noticed or cared. Holding your head high, you stride into the shop.
The shop is surprisingly well-appointed. You were expecting something more geared towards people who had just forgotten ski gear, but what you see before you seems bigger and much better stocked, though the styles you see tend a little towards the eclectic. Sitting behind the counter is a tall, redheaded girl, the cast of her shoulders and biceps beneath her sweater suggesting a bit of power lays in her arms, her locks bound in pigtails by two white ribbons. A name tag on her sweater reads "Greta." She casts a critical eye to you, and for a moment it strikes you just how obviously thrown-together your current outfit is.
"If you need help with anything, just let me know," she says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. You meet her gaze for a tense moment, but manage to tear your eyes away as you go to browse the selection.
Your first few choices are fairly meat and potatoes. Shirts, sweaters, pants. Everyone needs to start somewhere, and this is supposed to be a practical trip, after all. Regardless, soon your eye strays to some of the stranger styles available in the shop. Why not try something a little new? That's when your gaze settles on a pair of high-heeled boots, trimmed with a wrapping of fur. Not far from them, a brown suede jacket which also sports a fur lining. You look over your shoulder to Greta.
"...do you have a changing room?"
A small, but more genuine smile crosses her lips.
"Right over there near the jeans," she says. You nod to her, picking up your choices and making a bee-line for it. Grinning giddily, you duck behind the curtain and take a deep breath.
The girl that steps back out of the changing room shortly afterward is... you. Mostly. You, but... amplified, the click of your bootheels on the linoleum satisfying. Greta gave an appreciative whistle with a smirk.
"Guessing you're ready to check out?"
"You know it..."