The girls file out from the room. Roxy absentmindedly traces the glass cases with her fingers as they walk to the register. Her touch is light enough not to streak the glass.

The man, who’s name she never learned, hands her spray to clean her piercings. He only asks for sixty dollars, which sounds extremely wrong to Roxy, but she hands him the money from one of her many cargo-pant pockets with only a mild hesitance. She wasn't going to ask to pay more.

She turns out of the store silently. Diane and Bella trail behind her, rushing false pleasantries to the owner as they do their best to leave without any further body modifications. They had to maintain the relationship, after all.

Kevin Abstract’s voice erupts from Bella’s back pocket. She grins sheepishly at her friends and she answers it, right before Kevin can urgently inform his listeners of his homosexuality. She waits a moment, two, and starts speaking in a steady stream of Slovak. Diane turns to Roxy, far more used to the harsh sounds spilling out of Bella’s throat.

“We should go to a thrift store near here. They have really good stickers.” Roxy nods along, a small smile on her face. Her breasts are currently burning, but it seems inappropriate to mention, so she drops it.

Bell hangs up with a huff. “Sorry queens,” she starts, “daddy Kovac wants me home early.”

Roxy tilts her head in confusion. Diane translates. “Her dad. He wants her to go home.” Roxy makes a noise of understanding, but her face twists into something sad.

“Aw, don’t worry king. I’ll see you soon.” Bella bumps the shorter girl with her hip. It manages to soothe her, somewhat. Bells looks like she’s about to leave, but, with the speed of a whip, she slaps Diane’s ass and runs off.

“You bitch!” Diane shrieks, smile still present on her face.

Bella doesn’t stop running until crosses the street. She spins around and flips her off with both hands. She locks eyes with Roxy. Even though Roxy has known her for years, her gaze is still incredibly intense. Bell blows her an over dramatic, Roger Rabbit kiss, and disappears into an alley.

Diane leans into Roxy, breathy chuckles still blooming in her throat and dying in the crisp late-winter air. Her arm snakes around her friend's waist.

“Well,” She says, “how about that thrift store?”

Roxy nods without missing a beat, and soon falls into step beside Diane as she leads them off through East Village.

With all of the normal questions asked and answered (“What emojis describe you?” Diane texted Roxy one night. When she sees the cowboy, rock n’ roll hand, and double hearts, she can’t help but agree.) they talk about whatever comes to mind. Mutual friends, alcoholic aunts (“We both have one? Sick.”), food, and past dating and drug and alcohol experiences are all topics of conversation. (“I didn’t know she died. Shit, that must -“ ”Really suck? Yeah.”)

The place Roxy’s taken to is slightly more residential than where they were before, but the big black sign screaming “THRIFT STORE” makes her destination obvious.

When Diane takes her into the store, it’s unlike any place she’s ever been. The clothes hang nicely on the racks, every item is carefully dusted, and the decor looks like the building had, at some point, been someone’s home.

The way Diane takes her hand sends something warm to the pit of her stomach. It pools there, self pleased and confident, and Roxy tries her hardest to ignore it. She takes her to the back of the store where a row of eight large vases filled to their tops with stickers. The vases look way too fancy for their current vocation with their elaborate enamel and gold leafing. Diane digs into the heaps of the decals with great familiarity.

Roxy steps up to the vase next to Diane. Peering into it, she can see countless stickers. She dives in.