Gotta Get Down (Open)

He went to the mall to get warm, not to shop. Chase hadn't the money to shop, though the temptation to lift a coat was incredible-- it got remarkably cold at night and, equipped with only a hoodie, it was difficult to keep warm. Chase couldn't just go to a homeless shelter and get donated clothing, either-- because of his mutation, he could only safely wear new clothes, and any hand-me-downs ran the risk of causing him to shift. And, though Chase were sorely tempted to steal a coat, stealing clothes and stealing food were two different matters, in his mind-- he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was thus without a coat, and resorted to meandering around within public places to keep warm.

Chase wasn't so dirty that he stuck out, but there was enough grunginess about him that it was obvious he needed a bath of some sort. There was no particular perfume about him that made his scent unpleasant, he was simply dirty... quite a feat, for a runaway, to be dirty yet bear no particular odor.

Chase gravitated towards the mall because it had always fascinated him-- the possibilities of what one could wear, of what one could buy. He didn't like shopping, he just liked looking-- at the clothes and other goods, and at the people. Malls were excellent places to practice picking up on various mannerisms. He meandered into yet another clothing store, letting his gaze wander, and he drifted into a comfortable inattentiveness. All it took was that single moment of not paying attention, for Chase to get mowed over by a shopper on a mission. He didn't fall, but in the collision his glasses were knocked from his face.

>> "Ow."

His sentiment exactly. As the glasses had fallen, they'd pinched his temple, which Chase now touched gingerly with his fingers. But this girl probably hurt more, for she'd just been prodded in the stomach with the sharp corner of the sunglasses' rim.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, peering up to look at the girl before bending down to retrieve his sunglasses, "Are you okay? I run into people a lot." A flicker of concerned yellow-orange may have simmered through his bright-turquoise gaze, but only in a brief glimmer before Chase bent down to retrieve his glasses from the floor.

His eyes simmered down to their typical coloration as the girl reassured him that, no, she was indeed fine, unhurt, and wasn't watching where she went either. Chase sighed, nodded his head, and gave a short, "Good."

As he turned his attention to his glasses, the girl posed her question, "They didn't break, right?"

Chase picked up his glasses bye the arms, only to find that, in the fall, one of the plastic lenses not only had popped out, but shattered altogether. Weren't these things supposed to be shatter-resistant? Well, they hadn't been very high-end shades to begin with, but still-- they'd been his only pair.

A wave of dread hit his stomach, and Chase tried to swallow his nerves. They were just sunglasses, they could be replaced-- but he couldn't buy them, for he hadn't any money, and he refused to steal clothes, or their accessories. They weren't essentail, he told himself, but now he could only hide one eye, which was as effective as not hiding his eyes at all.

"It's fine," Chase explained, picking up the three, clean pieces of the broken lense, and sliding the unbroken portion of his shades into his pocket, "These were old, anyways-- I was hoping to get new ones." He let his eyes flick to the older girl for a moment, gave a subdued smile. His eyes now adopted flecks of distressed yellow-green, and he quickly dropped his gaze to the lens fragments, sliding those into his pocket, too.

>> "You know... I could buy you a new pair?"

"You would do that?" Chase reiterated, rosy hues of delight taking hold of his eyes. What was it with strangers buying him things?

"That's very kind of you, but I couldn't p-"

"Hey."

Chase jumped as a resounding, baritone voice cut him off. Okay, so maybe he was a bit jumpy. Maybe this guy was the brunette's brother or cousin, or father. Chase tried to cool his nerves, his mostly-turquoise flicking towards the massively-built newcomer. The momentary flickers of delight were once again replaced by anxiety in Chase's gaze.

"Evening," the eight-year-old replied quietly.

Ilaria never noticed, really, how short (miniscule) she was.

Sometimes she was more then aware, as if she could notice nothing else. But sometimes, times like this, she couldn't help but sigh. She was sitting on a bench and her feet couldn't even reach the floor. It wouldn't be so bad, but she was at the mall with Kitty and that meant a lot of walking (patience). Maybe she should have worn more comfortable shoes, as sandals were a bad (horrible) idea.

“Bored already, dear Pucky?” Kitty's rather thick French accent cut into Ilaria's musings, and the Japanese girl looked up to the tall, six foot blond and shrugged. “We've only been here...” A beat. “Three hours.”

“Four.” Ilaria sighed. “Kitty set her watch backwards so she could find an excuse to come to work late. Again.”

“Ah. Yes.” The blond muttered. Sometimes Ilaria forgot how blunt (French) the blond woman could be. “Forgot I used that one already. Might have to think up of some others, yes? Can't have you getting too bored, after all. And besides, this is a clothing store. A girly girl like you can't get too bored in such a place, right?”

“I guess.” Ilaria pulled up her legs and hugged her knees a bit. “Guess I am just wondering how the store is doing.”

“Fine.” Kitty said, holding up her phone to show Ilaria a text she just got. “Forced one of the pimply faced brats I hired to text me every half hour just to make sure. And I'm going back there to close. So relax, will you? It's what we came here to do. That, and buy ridiculously overpriced clothes so you can stop wearing kimonos all the time.”

Ilaria huffed, knowing Kitty was exaggerating, but not by much. Still, she had other clothes beyond her mass (huge) collection of kimonos, but Kitty regularly called them “costumes” as opposed to clothes. And as much as Ilaria hated to agree...well, her blond partner was right.

“At least they have cute pants.” Ilaria commented as she hopped off the bench and shuffled towards said cute pants. “Short shorts too!!” she grinned, picking up a pair of them before they were quickly snatched away by Kitty, who put them back down.

“None of those.” Kitty shook her head. “Last time I let you wear some skimpy outfit you almost got more customers in an hour then I did in a week back home.”

Ilaria pouted. It wasn't her fault (not really). She just wanted to feel special, and when she wore that outfit she was feeling a bit attention starved. Kitty sometimes wondered if they shouldn't switch names, as Ilaria was more like a cat (kitten) then any other human being she knew with all the attention the shorter woman wanted.

“Fine.” Ilaria stamped a foot childishly, though not caring (much) how it looked. “Kitty can pick something out then. I want to go see if they have any new video games at the store down the hall!!”

“Fine!!”

“Fine!!”

They both took a moment to cross their arms and stick their tongues out at each other before stomping off in separate directions. In truth they weren't mad at each other, not really. It was a form of affection more than anything, and Kitty knew Ilaria wouldn't go far off, or even leave the store without her.

Ilaria knew this too, and huffed, kicking a random (empty, thankfully) shoe box that was on the floor before adjusting the purse on her shoulder...just as someone ran into her, taking hold of the purse with practiced ease and attempted to run.

Attempting being the key word.

The man was bigger, but then again that wasn't saying much when you compared Ilaria to most people in the world. She was short (tiny) compared to what she felt like was ninety percent of the population of wherever she was, and the only people that were shorter were toddlers. But regardless, the man was bigger and far more muscular then the small (miniscule) Ilaria.

So when he was jerked back, wrist caught in what seemed like the vice grip from hell, he noticeably paled at the smiling face of Ilaria, who didn't even bother to open her eyes at the would be purse snatcher and merely waggled a finger in his face.

“Ara, ara...Purse Snatcher-han should know better, yes?” Ilaria's tone was rather playful before she let go of the man's wrist. “It is not nice to take what is not yours, and a woman no less.” she shook her head, tsk-ing the man. “Manners are not hard to come by. Perhaps I can teach you?”

Kitty watched the interaction from a few aisles over, sighing. This wasn't going to end well. Especially since the dick that tried to take the purse would think Ilaria was being condescending. She wasn't. She truly would have liked to teach this man manners. That girl was insufferable. And sure enough, the swing the man took was aimed right for Ilaria's head.

“Dumbass.” she whispered as Ilaria caught the man's hand in a palm with practiced ease (practiced only because Kitty forced her to take at least some self-defense lessons at the local police station), and took that moment to stick a cute top into her bags of things. Hey, no one was looking, so it was okay!!

“Ara...” Ilaria cocked her head. “Please, I do not like violence.”

Though that didn't stop her from pulling them man close and grabbing him by his belt and lifting him up a bit...and then tossing him towards the entrance of the store.

A bit too hard.

“Oops...” Ilaria blinked a moment before calling over her shoulder, knowing her partner was there, or at least not far off. “Kitty...we may need to leave.”

The pure snatcher was heading right for another man, after all, and their collision wasn't going to be pleasant.

And then there was one. The big man's eyes narrowed on the girl. She was a mutant supporter, obviously. Why else would she have risked her neck for the chump kid. Hell of a waste, really. He'd deserted her. And now, her luck would desert her, too.

"Big. Mistake." He made every word take up an entire breath, crossing his arms across his chest.

She didn't run.

They stared at each other for a second, both with arms crossed, both not backing down. She stared up at him, and he attempted to stare her down.

And then. A freaking body flew from out of nowhere and knocked him into an aisle of clothing. Wood shattered. Hangers rattled. People groaned.

Amelia glanced towards the source of the body, arching an eyebrow. "Well, that was lucky." She commented. They were looking her way. She shot them a friendly wave and smile. 'Yes yes, thank you for that. I see you', it said.

With another loud sound, something beneath the broken wood and clothing shifted. A hulking form stood up. Muscles rippled through tears in his shirt on his arms and his back. His black curled hair hung loosely over his stop sign-shaped face.

Maybe mutant-hater wasn't so human, after all. If he'd lasted through all of that...

A loud string of profanity much too coarse for the younger viewers swam through the air towards the scrawny chick who'd flung the body. It was followed by a one-fingered gesture. How rude!

Those poor, felled clothing displays, crushed beneath the incredible girth of the human dominos. Chase dared to step out into the aisle, now that the man had flown past, and presumed that the worst was over. The brunette was wholly unscathed, for which Chase was grateful. She seemed nice, and it would have been tragic for her to have been crushed by two fat guys.

His relief was short-lived as the muscle-man got up, dizzied by the collision. It wasn't everyday that you got mowed over by a projectile as large as yourself, hence Chase's mild alarm. How was that man still standing? He whined and motioned for the brunette to make a break for it. He was out of the way, and this man was totally ballistic-- the girl didn't budge. His attention was elsewhere now, though-- the teal-haired girl. He yelled words that Chase had never heard, and made a gesture that was also lost on him... judging by the looks worn by the ladies, it wasn't anything nice. Chase would have to ask about what it all meant later.

If Chase were any more opportunistic, he might have slipped away and lifted a coat just then, while everyone was distracted. However, his mind didn't work like that. In the realm of eight-year-old boys, watching a blue-haired girl beat a man up was of far greater interest.

After a short discussion with her blond cohort, the girl with the neon-teal hair bustled past in her peculiar gown. Chase merely watched, and waited. He also felt inclined to suck around because this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for his iridescent eyes... He didn't want the brunette girl to get hurt.

There was a short exchange between the super-strong lady and the muscle-man, punctuated by another attempt to hit her and yet another effortless block. This is so cool, Chase breathed, biting his lip. What would she do next? Throw him to the ground, or into another innocent clothing display?

She turned and started taking to the brunette. What--? Most of the discussion was unheard by Chase, except when the girl with the teal hair squealed about the brunette's panda shirt. How anticlimactic. Girls are so weird.

>>"Um...Hatsune Miku, is that you?"

“Ara?” Ilaria took a moment to blink before looking over to Kitty, who simply shrugged and went about her business of stealing various clothing while all the action was still distracting people. “No, I am afraid that is not my name. My name is Ilaria Suzuki, though my friends call me Puck. A pleasure, Panda-han...though I suppose I can stop calling Panda-han by that name is she were to share her own.”

The man in Ilaria's grip tried to get up, shake loose...anything it seemed to get out of the grip he had himself in. It didn't take much for Ilaria to put him back down, simply applying just a tad bit more pressure to the finger she had a death grip on. He howled before bowing his head and falling to the floor, the only thing holding him up being Ilaria herself. She let him go, only to put a foot on his back, forcing him to the ground. She looked down at him with a wary expression.

“Muscle-han should not fight as he does. It is impolite.” she scolded, her voice sad and tiny. “Perhaps when the authorities come and take you away you shall learn your lesson. I shall inquire to where they are taking you so I can send candy. Candy fixes everything.”

Looking up, the teal haired girl clapped her hands in the prayer position and tilted her head again, looking to Panda Girl with a serene expression.

“Ara, ara...Panda-han must tell me where she got that shirt.” she cooed, acting as if she wasn't keeping a man that was three times her size down with one foot. “It is absolutely adorable. And now I know it comes in my size. Though maybe mine should be a bit larger in the chest area, hm?” She looked down and nodded. “Yes.”

Behind her, Kitty groaned and face palmed. Yeah, no one ever accused Puck of having tact.