A half block up from the McDonalds, a Goodwill dominates one corner of the street and on most days, the building sees some good business. Those with things they no longer need come by and toss trashbags full of 'stuff' in to giant bins, while others wander about in the store looking for items to purchase at rock-bottom prices. Val is one of those people today, moving through the isles and picking out most of the hats, scarves, and mitts that are still available. Even if the pickings are a little slim these days.

Izzy is another of those, though wandering the aisles a bit more aimlessly than Val. Apparently outerwear has been handled to the kid's satisfaction, because the current fascination is the variety of t-shirts available. Most are discarded as options almost as soon as they're seen, but others require a few seconds of careful consideration. It's a little odd, seeing a kid that age in here alone -- no parents, no friends to giggle over things with -- and in fact a close watch of movement through the store might show a subtle bending of most people's paths around the t-shirt area at present.

Val collects another pair of mittens, dropping them in to her cart. Then, she starts to pick through the shirts as well, pulling out one particularly garish example and pulling a face. "I can see why people get rid of these. These theme'd t-shirts are horrific."

Izzy makes room for Val when she starts poking through the same rack, and looks slightly startled when actually spoken to. "Yeah. There's one in there that says 'buy me a drink and I'll show you my shamrocks'. Who wears that kinda thing?" A slight pause. "And if it's anyone who shops at Goodwill, aren't they running out of time to pick it up? They've got, like... less than two weeks."

Val chuckles. "Yes, well, I suspect some of the clothes here have been sitting on the racks for years," Val says as she selects a generic 'vacation' shirt from some resort or another and tosses it in to her collection. "I know some folks that are not all that picky about clothes, so long as they're clothes. Try and pass'em out, particularly with the weather being this nasty." The woman scowls, giving her head slight shake. "Weather like this is hard on some folks."

A glance toward the front of the shop, where the wall of windows shows that summer (nor even spring) has not made an appearance since they entered the place. "I think weather like this's hard on a lotta people," Izzy agrees, "I know Regan Hope's been basically overflowing since I got here, and the lady who runs the youth hostel says they don't usually have nearly this many people staying there this time of year, either." One of the shirts gets a quizzical look, a plain black one covered in strange white equations. Complicated ones! "It's nice of you to come find stuff for people."

Val lifts her shoulders in shrug. "Well, there is some self-interest involved. It's a small thing on my part, but people remember and are more likely to be friendly down the line and I end up having to talk with a lot of folks during the course of my work. And I know that the project and stuff has been overflowing of late - still doesn't stop the death-toll from being higher than usual this year. But, anyway, why have you been kicking around Regan Hope? Folks not around to keep an eye on you?"

There's the breath of a hesitations before Izzy replies. "A couple people told me about it, so I went to check it out. I wouldn't say I've been kicking around there, though, not really. What's your work?" Certainly not an attempt to change the subject, noooo. Surely not. "...though I think it's a good thing to do anyway, even if it's not, y'know, a hundred percent altruistic. Even if you were just entirely trying to manipulate people into being useful to you, at least they'd be warmer."

Val chuckles. "Well, I am useful to them in turn. I'm a Homicide Detective, all five feet of me," the woman says with a grin. "If they talk with me, it's easier to get the right people off the street, which makes life safer for them in the long run."

"You are? I thought there was a height requirement thing. Or maybe that was firemen? Uh. Sorry. This is maybe where I should just shut up." Izzy gives the woman an apologetic look, and takes a breath to regroup. "That makes sense, though. Are there... are you really busy a lot?"

Val laughs. "And don't worry. Nothing wrong with talking. But yes, I'm usually pretty busy. With work and beyond work."

Izzy nods, fingering one of the shirts absently, then pushing it to the 'already examined' side of the rail. "I kinda hope less dead people beyond work though? 'cause that seems like it could get kinda depressing, otherwise."

Val hmms, not really answering that question, as she switches subjects.

Val says "So, where did you say your folks were again?"

Izzy glances sidelong at Val, then at the next of the t-shirts, which happens to feature Pikachu. This does not appear to pass muster. "Well, honestly, we're not sure where my mom is. She travels a lot, you know? But she doesn't usually go out of touch. The last time we heard from her, she was here, so this was the logical place to start looking. So far it looks like maybe she went to Montana?" A one-shouldered shrug, with a quick scan of the other racks around them, and a sudden brightening. "Oh! 'scuse me a sec." The kid hurries over several racks to the menswear, specifically the rack of ties, which is topped off by a clip-on of the bow variety. This is, apparently, the goal, since it's swiftly plucked from its place.

Val's eyebrows go up and she trails after the Strider, an amused smirk on her features. "Now, what are you up to? And if you're looking for someone, I have a friend who specializes in the missing persons field. Damn good at his job to boot, but he is out of town at the moment. Named Nicodemus Dalton. I could give you his number for when he gets back."

"Oh! You know Mr. Dalton? ...thank you. He's the one who figured out the part between here and probably-Montana. I didn't know Nick was short for Nicodemus, though. That's a lot cooler than just Nicholas. Not that there's anything wrong with that, either, but." The question does not go unanswered, however, and Izzy turns to present the bowtie with a delighted "Look!" It's navy blue, with tiny silver polkadots.

Val laughs. "Well, you certainly have an eye for the garish. I approve. So, you going to head out that way and look for your mother?"

"What? This isn't garish. THAT'S garish." Izzy points to one of the other ties, a standard long-type one -- particularly wide, bright metallic green, with a pattern of santa hats and glitter-nosed reindeer on it. "Bowties are cool." The kid grins, turning the thing over and then keeping hold of it; it has been Chosen. The grin fades somewhat at the question, though. "Prolly, yeah. But not yet; Mr. Dalton said he's asking someone else to check something out too, and to wait until that's done first." A small pause, and as though to forestall an expected question, "I dunno who, though."

"Well, you might have to wait a little bit," Val says, shoving her hands in to her pockets. "He got called away and said he'd be gone for a week or two. Seemed rather sudden-like and I'm not certain what exactly called him off. But, anyway. Look, I'll give you my number and if you need anything, give me a call, okay? Nick might not be around, but I can give you a hand if you need one and he isn't back yet."

"That's what his message said," Izzy agrees, "I mean, that he had to go out of town for a week or two." This clearly confirms that Val knows him and didn't just somehow magically pull the name out of thin air! Or something like that, anyway. "Thanks. That's really nice of you. ...do you need a hand with carrying and delivering all the clothes and stuff? 'cause maybe I could help you out with that, then...?"

Val shakes her head. "Naw. I'll be fine. It's bulky, but nothing terribly heavy. Look. Load up anything you think you might need and I'll cover it," she says, a bemused smile on her face. "Nick's good at getting the word out. I really have to remember that."

Izzy blushes -- probably; it's pretty darn faint, but the pinker tinge does seem to be peeking through. "Thanks, but... I couldn't do that. I mean, I really do appreciate the offer, but I'm okay, I'm fine. I just meant, you know, it was nice of you to say I could call you, and I thought maybe it'd be a thing I could do that'd help you some also. That's... that's why I asked."

Val laughs easily. "You don't want to be where I'm going with this stuff, believe me. It's up to you what you want to do and there is no reason for you to be embarrassed." She swings around her bag and after some digging, pulls out a card with her name and number on it. "Here you go. So, are you going to add a bit more to this pile before I go, or should I just check out now?"

Headtilt. "Why, where are you going with the stuff?" Izzy asks, curiosity winning out over the embarrassment, "Is it really dangerous?" The card is accepted and looked over carefully. "Thanks, Detective," a very small pause, "Konstantopilous..." There's the hint of a 'did I say that right?' question, but the card disappears into a pocket of the satchel, and the kid looks up again, adding, "Um. I'm Izzy. Nice to meet you. And I'm good but-- if the people you're taking those to need clothes maybe also some of the blankets and sleeping bags over there'd be good? There's only a few right now but they looked pretty warm."

Val looks over at the sleeping bags and seems to consider, then shrugs and starts to head over that way. "It's a rough area, is all." She grins as the cub attempts to pronounce her last name. "Good to meet you Izzy. I'm just going to grab some of those bags and head out. Feel free to give me a call if you need anything." And off she goes to complete her shopping.