I rolled my eyes and turned down an aisle of graphic novels. My eyes glanced over the shelves.
“I want to know about comics. Like what’s your writing process like? Where do you get your ideas? Who are your favorite creators? Things like that,” I turned to him.
“Oh! You wanted to know actual things! I should have known,” he feigned surprise. Again, I rolled my eyes.
“…My favorite creators are Chris Claremont, Grant Morrison, Peter Milligan, and Louise Simonson,” he said as he ran his hand along the bookshelf.
“You can’t be a Gen Xer without having Claremont on your favorites list,” I laughed.
“That sounds about right. As for my writing process it’s very scattered. Whenever I can get words on the page, I’m thankful. And ideas come to me in bits and pieces, then I flesh them out over time. My ex best friend helped me come up with Diablo way back in the 90’s. But for years the idea was just unconnected chunks floating in my mind. It took forever for me to sort her character out and almost twice as long for me to pitch her to a publisher.”
“I glad you did. She’s the best,” I smiled at him.
“Thanks,” he hunched his shoulders and grinned.
I turned back to the shelves and my eyes went wide at the collection of books that were staring at me.
“I think I see someone over here,” I poked Vic’s muscle sculpted shoulder.
I very much wanted to reach out and run my hand down his arms.
“Oh?” he blinked.
I pulled down a collected volume of his run on Mutant X.
“Oh god,” he groaned and ran his hands down his face.
“What’s wrong?” I frowned.
“Seeing my stuff… It’s kinda embarrassing,” his cheeks pinked.
“Sorry…” I went to put the book back onto the shelf when his hand on my shoulder stopped me in my tracks.
Blood rushed to my head at the warmness of his touch.
“Do you have a pen?” he whispered.
“Y-yeah… I’ve got my art stuff with me.”
He pulled back his hand and did a gimme motion. Face aflame I shuffled through my bag and pulled out a sharpie. With a devious smirk Vic looked left then right before he popped the top of the marker and opened the cover of the book. Feverishly he scribbled something down before blowing on the page to set the ink.
“What did you do?” I asked.
He turned to me with the book open. His inscription read,
Thank you for helping me keep the lights on - Vic Williams
We broke out into a fit of giggles like a pair of school girls.
“Can I help you two with anything?” A clerk staring daggers at us from the end of the aisle halted our laughter.
Swiftly Vic tucked the marker behind his back and closed the book.
“No sir, we’re just looking. Thanks though,” he smiled ever so sweetly.
“Uh, alright then. Let me know if I can help you two with anything,” the clerk’s eyes narrowed knowingly.
Vic turned to me with a wink before putting the book back on the shelf. Once we were alone again our giggle fit returned.
“Naughty boy,” I smiled up at him as my laugher faded.
Vic placed a light hand on my shoulder and leaned down to me, “You have no idea,” he whispered.
God.
The brush of his breath against my cheek sent shudders down my legs. He handed back my marker and asked, “Should we go before we fuck up some more stuff?”
I stuffed the marker back into my bag and nodded.
Head held high Vic strolled by the counter. I on the other hand noticed the suspicious looks from the staff behind the counter and dropped my head.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked once we were outside.
“...I kinda just want the attention of one fan today,” he said so quietly that I could barely hear.
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