He's long since taken off his helmet - it's just another pound or so of gear he doesn't need to use right now. It sits on his waist, and so when Lindianne pops the cap on his head, it gels with the watchcap and the tactical headset to make Voodoo look like he's in the running for angriest hockey fan in America - which, to be fair, he would sweep, if not for legacy left by the paternal side of his family.
Not that he knows it's a Bruins cap at first, though. He'll just pop it off his head to make sure it's not, God forbid, a Yankees cap.
Upon seeing the logo, he smiles and prods Lindianne in the side - gently - with his elbow. "Wiseass. -but thanks."
The sticker on the brim is the first thing to go, of course, tossed to the floor before he works on bending the brim. It's true, this store is one of the few that somehow hasn't been worked over by looters. There's gear from sports teams all across the country, from Sacramento Kings to Florida Marlins to Cincinnati Bengals. There's even some San Diego Padres jerseys - and why not? As far as baseball teams go, they're harmless.
(Still no Red Sox gear, though. He'd be surprised if there were so much as an actual red sock in the entire metropolitan area.)
A Mets jersey with 31 stitched loudly across the back catches his eye, and he takes it off the rack to get a second look at the name above.
"'Piazza'."
He quirks an eyebrow and turns it towards Lindianne. "One of your guys?"
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Date: 2016-05-04 01:07 am (UTC)He's long since taken off his helmet - it's just another pound or so of gear he doesn't need to use right now. It sits on his waist, and so when Lindianne pops the cap on his head, it gels with the watchcap and the tactical headset to make Voodoo look like he's in the running for angriest hockey fan in America - which, to be fair, he would sweep, if not for legacy left by the paternal side of his family.
Not that he knows it's a Bruins cap at first, though. He'll just pop it off his head to make sure it's not, God forbid, a Yankees cap.
Upon seeing the logo, he smiles and prods Lindianne in the side - gently - with his elbow. "Wiseass. -but thanks."
The sticker on the brim is the first thing to go, of course, tossed to the floor before he works on bending the brim. It's true, this store is one of the few that somehow hasn't been worked over by looters. There's gear from sports teams all across the country, from Sacramento Kings to Florida Marlins to Cincinnati Bengals. There's even some San Diego Padres jerseys - and why not? As far as baseball teams go, they're harmless.
(Still no Red Sox gear, though. He'd be surprised if there were so much as an actual red sock in the entire metropolitan area.)
A Mets jersey with 31 stitched loudly across the back catches his eye, and he takes it off the rack to get a second look at the name above.
"'Piazza'."
He quirks an eyebrow and turns it towards Lindianne. "One of your guys?"