Errands were beneath him. At least that was how he felt at the moment when he went into the grocery store. Kat’s mom was refusing to pick up any more booze for him so that meant he had to get it for today. On occasion she’d grab him a bottle or a six pack but he had been consuming far more than she liked at the moment so she flat out told him no when he asked her. Normally she was in charge of stocking the food supplies at the mansion and while she always did this she occasionally picked up a little extra for Sam.

Sam grunted brushing past someone as he walked down the aisle for the hard liquor. His shopping cart was already filled with junk food dog and cat treats and a half dozen six packs. Sam stopped and his mouth opened slightly when he saw the shelving unit housing all the whiskey. It was beautiful sight. Sam wished he had both eyes so he could full take in the beauty.

Scotch, bourbon and then regular all from different states and countries. There were almost too many to choose from. Almost. Sam had his hand on his favorite Irish whiskey brand and placed two bottles into the cart as if he was placing a bomb or something fragile. It was clear he enjoyed the drink a little too much for he was completely oblivious to everything else around him. Which being Sam meant that he wasn’t usually far from trouble.

Even the drastically-mutated needed to go shopping, every once in a while. Even if the sight of an enormous shrimp-lady hunched over a tiny, plastic red shopping cart was garrish and laughable, it wasn't entirely unheard of. Even Jack had to get such fixings of life, like toilet paper and body soap.

She was in her usual garb-- cargo shorts, tank top, hoodie. The decorative chains on her pants clanged as she walked. Having nowhere to be, and no urge to rush home, she was making liesurely loops down various aisles, looking for items that she absolutely needed. Jack rounded the corner onto the liquor aisle, continuing forward without giving the blue-eyed young man more than a cursory glance. More attention was given to his cart. That was a f--kton of beer. He must have been in a rough spot in his life.

Jack didn't give "the drink" much thought, outside of Looking Glass or Chrysalis. She'd seen too many drunks, and even dealt with a fair number of alcohol poisonings. Plus, at her size, it took too goddamn much alcohol to get her drunk enough to be worth her while, and booze was expensive. She didn't make enough for that kind of lifestyle.

The young woman was so distracted by her own inner musings about drunkards, she neglected to keep a firm grasp on her shopping cart, which careened straight into the display of plastic sample-sized bottles. The collision was enough to dislodge one of the shelves and sent most of the bottles clattering to the tiled floor.

Jack swore and maneuvered her cart out of the way. She couldn't just leave the bottles there. Not with that alcoholic watching her. The prawn sank on her hanches and began to clean-up the bottles, the enormity of her primary hands making it a very slow process.

The sound of the ample bottles clanging to the ground distracted him long enough from his thoughts on the best whiskey to the scene closest to him. Clearly a mutant struggling to round up all the bottles. At first Sam was gonna get back to the amber colored wall of his favorite kind of liquid but then he realized how slow she had been trying to pick up the bottles. It seemed with her visible mutation it was hard to pick up the tiny bottles. Rolling his eye and pushing his cart full of beer off to the side he walked over and pulled up his pants slightly as he crouched and grabbed a few bottles.

”You know this could be considered a waste of good alcohol but…” Sam picked up one of the tiny bottles and smirked, ”Never thought to much of tequila.” it was true most nights that involved tequila for Sam often led to questionable decisions even he normally wouldn’t make when he was drunk off of something else.

”You okay?” Sam asked the… person as he picked up a few bottles and placed them on the closest shelves that weren’t unhooked from the wall. Luckily none of the bottles opened so the clean up wouldn’t be too bad but it didn’t stop a crowd of people from gathering to watch the aftermath of the no doubt some heard from a few aisles away. Sam ignored them focusing on the mutant and the bottles he was helping her clean up.

Jack ground her mandibles in irritation over her clumsiness. She already caused a stir, wherever she went, the last thing she needed was to topple a display. Footsteps were approaching, lavender eyes flickered sideways. Much to her chagrin, she could see the shoes of the alcoholic meandering her direction.

>> ”You know this could be considered a waste of good alcohol but… Never thought to much of tequila.”

Jack momentarily hefted her gaze towards the man-- just now, she noticed his eye patch. Well, if he was a sailor, she could make a jab about being a pirate. Poor guy probably got that a lot, though, being a one-eyed drunkard. The prawn focused on the task at-hand, admonishing, "I all-ays 'referred oh-iskey."

The fact that the man was helping her rearrange the displays made the prawn a little less inclined to brush the man off. Jack delicately slid a collection of bottles back onto the shelf. He could have just jeered at the clumsy mutant and continued with his shopping, leaving Jack alone with her embarrassment. Perhaps that would have been better, though? Now she was not only ashamed about wrecking a display, but perhaps a little guilty over casting such harsh judgement upon an okay person.

>> ”You okay?”

A chuckle burbled up in the prawn's throat. And now, Mr. Nice Guy was checking in with him. Hopefully this drunkard wasn't a born-again Christian. Next thing Jack knew, he'd be inviting her to church. Jack heard other people approaching, and the short-lived laugh dissolved into an anxious grinding of mandibles.

"Store not--" she flapped her hand, searching for the right word. Normally, she'd let text-to-speech do the work for her, but she was so busy picking-up the display, that she was slurring her way through trying to talk. How humiliating, "Store not for some-un dis tall. Little carts, little aisles. Little... e'rything." Especially little f---ing bottles. What was the point of such tiny bottles, anyways? Jack opted to blame the loss of control on everything being too small for her, rather than confessing to being so lost in her thoughts that she'd forgotten to pay attention to where her cart was.

Jack's tone was tight, as were her shoulders. She could feel eyes boring holes into her back. At least nothing had spilled.

"You don't need to hel' me," Jack mumbled. Her tone was tense, but not dismissive. The kind of tone one would take when one was being made a spectacle of, and trying to spare their associates the grief.

The mutants voice was interesting. Sam wasn’t sure if it was an accent or a direct result of his/her physical mutation but Sam refrained from making a comment on it or any other thought on it. Sam figured he’d figure it out eventually, if at all.

Smirking as he put more bottles onto the shelf Sam nodded as if he understood. While his mutation wasn’t as physical as the person he was talking with now he heard a lot of stories, some made him feel worse than others. ”I know I don’t need to.” Sam said as if that was all he was about to say for before he continued after placing another small dozen on the shelf. Some standing some rolling to the back of the shelf. ”Helping because I want to.”

The air got colder when he noticed more people around them, some gawking and others pulling out their phones. Sam didn’t need to see them but he could feel them and in an instant he stood up and looked to a group of people down the isle. ”I got an idea of what it’s like to be stared at. Maybe not to the extent as you but..” Sam pointed to the group of people who were staring at them or rather the obvious mutant. A fist appeared in front of the gawkers and then it turned to reveal the middle finger. Sure it might be shown on some website at some point if someone managed to capture a photo of it but the people got the message. ”Got no problem staring with their mouths open. Makes ‘em look stupid.” Sam went back to picking up the bottles as the ‘bird’ made of ice remained frozen in the middle of the isle so if anyone else decided to gawk they see something else.

”My name’s Sam.” Sam said not expecting to get another response. Some people weren’t as cool with his being so direct.

Jack groaned, but her expression loosened a bit as the man insisted on helping her. She would deign to admit that she was grateful, not for any sense of pride, but because she was ashamed to subject another person to the sideshow-like attention that the two were now receiving. The prawn’s attention remained on the task at-hand, but her antennae kept twitching. She had heard them long before the man rose, the gathering crowd, the soft murmurs that were usually out of the human range of hearing. Soft sentiments about how “that type” shouldn’t be allowed in stores if they would just trash them, how it was a privilege not a right. The whiny voice of a child asking why “that thing” was playing with the bottles when they weren’t allowed to. A muscle in the prawn’s jaw twitched.

Just get the display back together and get the f—k outta here, she repeated in her head like a mantra.

She heard the man rise and followed him with her gaze. Probably leaving. She wouldn’t blame him. She wanted to leave, too. It would’ve been easier to just leave the mess for an employee, but Jack was in too deep now to abandon ship. Save yourself, she silently urged the man.

>> ”I got an idea of what it’s like to be stared at. Maybe not to the extent as you but…”

Oh yeah, the eyepatch, the prawn thought, a touch cluelessly. Sometimes, folks stared at those with disabilities the same way that they looked at mutants. She watched as the man pointed at the accumulating crowd, expecting him to preach at them, about how ashamed they should be. Jack felt the chill, but expected it to be the result of her nerves. She didn’t realize what he really, truly meant until the illustrious ice sculpture began to take form seemingly out of the air.

Jack’s eyes widened, surprised, and then her features twisted into their own version of a grin when she realized the one-fingered salute that was arising. If his stubborn insistence to help hadn’t earned her respect before, standing-up for her certainly did.

>> “Got no problem staring with their mouths open. Makes ‘em look stupid... My name’s Sam.”

The bottles were nearly tidied up. Then they could hoof it out of there.

“Jack,” the prawn replied briefly, giving him abrupt head-nod of approval and a smirk, "T'ank you."

Though the ice-sculpture mostly blocked them from view, and some of the crowd had dispelled, some individuals remained. One man snidely remarked about how many skewers a "shrimp that size" could fill. It was murmured, but Jack still turned back and hissed sharply at the crowd, a low growl seeping out of her throat.

"Gonna get outta here quickly, when done," she cautioned, the growl still churning in her throat, "Few a--holes over there. Concerned." She'd been on the street too long to not take such sentiments seriously.

Sam smirked as he could feel the a-holes heat signature. There were a few of them but Sam didn’t really pay any mind. ”Really gonna let a few ***** dictate where and what you do?” Sam shook his head as he took another bottle and slammed it up on the display unit. The slam was louder than he wanted but Jack’s apparent concern irritated him.

”You take your time, get what you want and if anyone has an issue with you.” Sam then started to yell, ”THEY CAN COME SAY SOMETHING TO ME.” Sam slammed another bottle on the shelf and then stood up brushing his pants off as he stood when the last of the bottles were cleared. ”Jack, there anything else you need here? Take it you came grocery shopping for a reason right?”

Sam walked over towards his cart and then added a few bottles of different brands of whiskey into his cart. ”You mind if I join you? Terribly boring walking around the grocery store by yourself.” Sam didn’t really wait for a response. ”Come on, what were you here for?”

>> “Really gonna let a few ***** dictate where and what you do?”

“Uh, yeah?” Jack said, incredulous. It wasn’t a matter of standing your ground or retreating. It was a matter of survival. While the men posed no immediate threat to her, and it was likely that she could take them with a quick one-two punch, she didn’t want any trouble. She just wanted her groceries.

Jack jumped as the young man slammed a bottle onto the display, causing some of the bottles to roll aside at the impact. Jack’s antennae flattened, form tensed, and she breathed a soft hiss. Its tone was cautionary, as if to say—Dude, take it easy. We literally just stocked these shelves, I’m not about to restore them for a second time. Jack just wanted her groceries, for God’s sake, the last thing she wanted was some guy to run to her defense.

>> “You take your time, get what you want and if anyone has an issue with you. THEY CAN COME SAY SOMETHING TO ME.”

Oh, for the love of all that’s good and pure, why was he getting all bent out of shape? This time, when Sam slammed the other bottle down, Jack didn’t jump or hiss at him. She finished her task and rose. Though some bottles weren’t upright, at least they were all off of the floor. Jack glanced to the two men, then to Sam, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t worth getting in a fight over. She’d hold him back if a physical attack was unwarranted.

>> “Jack, there anything else you need here? Take it you came grocery shopping for a reason right?”

Jack shrugged, exhaling heavily. Did she need anything else? Jack looked at her basket, then looked back to the eyepatch-wearing man as he slid more whiskey into his cart. The prawn heaved another sigh. She certainly didn’t come here for her health.

“Need sun* t’ings, yes,” she groaned, “I don’t need-“

>> “You mind if I join you? Terribly boring walking around the grocery store by yourself. Come on, what were you here for?”

Well, she was going to say that she didn't need a chaperone. Another sigh. It seemed like she didn't have a choice. Jack considered the option of turning her cart in the opposite direction, of ditching the young man who had apparently taken it upon himself to be her escort. But the enormous ice hand, complete with the ceremonious one-fingered salute, blocked her path. She couldn’t really get around that, even if she lifted the cart over her head. It would only cause more of a scene.

“Guess you can,” she rumbled, pushing her cart after him. There wasn’t anything wrong with “boring”. The prawn preferred it, even. But it seemed as though she wasn’t going to lose her company any time soon. The prawn surveyed her cart, grinding her mandibles anxiously. She had toilet paper, a few miscellaneous food items, Lysol wipes. She fished into her pocket and surveyed a handwritten shopping list.

“Body wash,” she announced, “Deodorant, and—“ she continued skimming the list for items that were not yet in her cart. And, finding none, concluded, “—dat’s all.”

*some

\Sam could tell Jack was slightly irritated with the situation but then it was either that or he just leave the grocery store with some angry people chasing him out. Sam wasn’t a fan of that and if they were really as stupid as they looked (they looked pretty stupid) Sam was going to either beat the tar out of them or flash his badge. Sam could tell with the way Jack was acting though he didn’t want to get involved with anything though so if it did come down to it he’d be sure not to count on Jack to get involved with an altercation.

”Sorry.” Sam grunted as he walked next to the large looking crustacean humanoid. ”Dealt with a lot of stupid **** due to stupid people.” he didn’t say any more than that but his hand brushed past his eye patch as he ran his fingers through his hair. ”Plus it’s kind of my job to make sure things like this doesn’t happen so…” Sam reached down into his basket and cracked open a beer and took a drink. He was gonna pay for it anyways.

”Where you from anyways?” Sam leaned back and then looked at Jack trying for a little small talk. ”Atlanta?” he tried to make it sound like he was going to say Atlantis. It was his attempt to lighten the mood a bit. ”North pole.” Sam pointed to himself and let out a slight laugh.

>> “Sorry. Dealt with a lot of stupid **** due to stupid people. Plus it’s kind of my job to make sure things like this don’t happen so…”

Jack inclined her head, her maxillipeds twitching inquiringly. His job, huh? Did that mean he was a cop? Why didn’t he just flash his badge at the men, instead of going through the trouble of making an ice sculpture? Well, he did want to build camaraderie between himself and Jack, and honestly, that was probably the quickest way to get her to at least somewhat open up to him. Maybe he wasn’t the type to use his job as social sway.

It was then that Sam cracked open a beer, and dispelled any assumption of “not using their profession as social sway”. That was relatively illegal, as far as Jack knew.

“I work security, at Chrysalis,” she explained. It was a relatively popular mutant bar. Humans were, of course, welcome, but much like there were “gay bars”, this one catered to a specific crowd and those sympathetic with said crowd, “Night o’ heard o’ it. It’s a nyu-tant nightclu’.”

For a moment, Jack feared that she came across as “one of those sorts” who thought that security guards were at the same caliber of cops, which she didn’t mean to suggest. She just thought that Sam seemed like the sort to frequent a club. An alchy who drinks beer before he even leaves the goddamn store. Regardless, she still clarified, “So I dealt wit’ sun idiots, too. Just don’t got that kind o’ aut’ority here. Unfortunately.”

>> “Where you from anyways? Atlanta? North pole.”

Just as Jack completely missed the insinuation that Sam could be an X, she also missed that this was an attempt at a joke—until Sam stated that he was from the North Pole. Jack was so absorbed in trying to figure-out if her slurring really sounded like a Southern drawl, that her realization came a moment too slowly. She smirked, and gave a humored “psh” and a chuckle.

“San ‘rancisco,” she assured him, “Cane here around six years ago. Needed a change o’ scenery, and heard New York had… a lot ‘o us.”

Which was a mild way of putting that Jack was running from an old gang member, but she didn’t need to tell this man her life’s story. This was just small talk anyway.

Sam almost choked on his beer ”I’ve gotten thrown out of that bar.” he managed to swallow the beer in his mouth then add, ”I might have stopped a fight… or started one.” Sam scratched his head and shrugged. The women there were certainly interesting. ”I still don’t think you should have to use authority to stop people from doing stupid things but, look at me.” he made a grand gesture as he took a sip of the beer as if it was the fanciest thing in the world he even lifted his pinky.

”Honestly everywhere has a lot of us, just we seem to be drawn to this city. It is supposed to be the greatest melting pot in the world and all that.” he realized he was talking to someone who looked like a giant lobster, ”Not an actual melting pot mind you.” another bad joke and then another swig of beer check.

”I work pretty much everywhere. One of my jobs is a teacher at the Xavier School for the Gifted.” Sam didn’t know if he knew what it was but the school had a pretty good reputation in the city. ”School for mutants and all that. Help them learn how to control and adapt and of course learn.” Sam took another swig of his drink then pushed his cart towards the front making sure he wasn’t leaving Jack behind.

When Sam entered the line Sam snapped his fingers, ”Oh, what kind of security do you do?” he was curious because he had worked in the area before as well though when he worked it he was normally the ‘talk it out guy’ while someone such as Jack was the strong silent type.

>> ”I’ve gotten thrown out of that bar.”

Sam’s sputtering remark earned a wholehearted laugh from Jack, a deep belly-roll of a laugh. It would f___ing figure that Sam had been ousted from her club. She wondered who had gotten the honor of throwing him out, though, since he didn’t seem to remember Jack. Then again, perhaps he was too far gone. Jack was still sniggering when Sam regained his composure and began to explain.

>> ”I might have stopped a fight… or started one... I still don’t think you should have to use authority to stop people from doing stupid things but, look at me.”

Jack smiled as the man took a jaunty swig of beer, and rolled her eyes. Perhaps she didn’t mean “authority”. Rather, she was contractually protected, at Chrysalis, to use whatever force necessary to subdue a rowdy individual. If someone swung a punch, she was permitted to punch back, if that was the only option to keep them from hurting themselves, others, or damaging property. Usually Jack just had to pick people up though. Something about being lifted like a ragdoll and held a few feet off the ground had quite the sobering effect on rabble-rousers.

That was the only place the prawn felt comfortable exerting herself like that, though. She carried herself lightly everywhere else. So perhaps it wasn’t “authority” that Jack craved, but security. The security of being able to move about freely. She didn’t want fights. She just wanted to not have to tread lightly wherever she went.

"True," was all the prawn admonished, leaving it at that.

>> ”Honestly everywhere has a lot of us, just we seem to be drawn to this city. It is supposed to be the greatest melting pot in the world and all that… Not an actual melting pot mind you.”

“Cheeky,” she groaned, rolling her eyes but still wearing a smile. This guy reminded her of Mouth, one of her cohorts at the club. He talked a lot, and seemed to not dial himself back just because Jack looked the way she did. Jack deigned to admit, but she was starting to warm-up to Sam. Somewhat. As much as anyone could warm-up to someone they just met.

As they wandered towards the front, Jack swung by the showering products, grabbing some generic body wash. She wove onto the next aisle, retrieved equally-generic deodorant, and then jogged to catch-up with Sam.

>> ”I work pretty much everywhere. One of my jobs is a teacher at the Xavier School for the Gifted. School for mutants and all that. Help them learn how to control and adapt and of course learn.”

“Nice,” Jack remarked, “Didn’t know dey had nyu-tant schools here, too. I went to one near San ‘rancisco. Sane kind o’ t’ing.”

Maybe it was a nice, normal school, unlike the one that Jack had attended in San Francisco. One without a merry band of vigilantes.

>> “Oh, what kind of security do you do?”

Jack chirred quietly, following Sam towards the front. “Bouncer” was a difficult word, for which there were no alternatives. She withdrew her phone from her pocket, opened the text-to-speech app, and typed the phrase, <<I’m a bouncer. Moreso the muscle than much else.>>

The synthetic, faintly British voice explained this from the speakers of Jack’s phone.

“Dey call nee when t’ings get outta hand,” Jack added-on, “Usually just end ut walking around and being… hm, seen. Sun-tines dere's a good... excite-nent doh.” Both "fight" and "brawl" were difficult words.

That really was all Jack did. Break-up fights, babysit drunken patrons, and be visible. Everything at Chrysalis was for appearances. Although their main selling point was "being a bar for mutants", they were still a business; and having an iridescent prawn meandering around in a debonair suit was all part of the image they were trying to convey.

”Muscle huh?” Sam thought to himself then shook his head as he took another sip of his beer. The lady at the register was about to say something but then she didn’t. Sam finished his beer and put it on the conveyer belt with his other drinks and watched them all get wrung up. The lady behind the register started to give him a dirty look then looked to Jack and her jaw dropped. Whether she was terrified or startled it didn’t matter Sam saw the face then snapped his fingers. ”Yoo-hoo! I’m right in front of you. Being rude.” on the third snap Sam got her attention and then she blushed and apologized which he ignored.

”Well if you are looking for another job, let me know I know my guys in security could always use another hand.” Sam looked to the amount once his total was in fact totaled, ”Damn… you take off the bottle return right?” he smirked when she nodded and shrugged. ”Still cheaper than smoking.” and he handed her his card then he picked up his bags and then started moving so Jack could buy everything. ”Pay is great, hours are long but worth it. You like kids?”

Jack trailed behind the man in the eyepatch as he unloaded the alcohol onto the conveyer belt. She was paying more attention to how close Sam was to finishing, than the lady behind the register. Honestly, Jack preferred the self-check. Didn’t have to deal with the face-to-face sh_t. But her Sam were in the midst of their conversation. Once Sam finished unloading his cart, Jack set-out the little plastic divider, and began unloading her things.

She hardly noticed the woman’s look, until Sam called her out.

>> ”Yoo-hoo! I’m right in front of you. Being rude.”

Jack thought perhaps she had loaded the conveyer belt too quickly, and looked up, exhaling heavily. That’s an odd thing to grump about. She saw a flicker of the woman’s expression and, knowing it well, arched a brow. Jack looked up just before the third snap, and saw the lady regain her composure, flushed and apologetic.

“Hat’ens all duh tine,” Jack rumbled to the checker dismissively. She wasn’t the first to look at Jack like that, and it wouldn’t be the last. Just let me get my things and get out, goddamnit.

>> ”Well if you are looking for another job, let me know I know my guys in security could always use another hand…” He broke-off and commented on the price of his beer, before continuing, “Pay is great, hours are long but worth it. You like kids?”

Jack was rummaging into her pockets, fishing-out her wallet. Incredulous lavender eyes surveyed the man, “Are you serious? You’re oss-ering me a jaw’ at duh store? Really?”

She sounded a surprised, but also delighted. She had enough with Chrysalis, for the time being, but lately there had been word of reducing hours at Chrysalis. It could be refreshing, to work at a school, where a majority of the people Jack was supervising/protecting would presumably not be inebriated. Well, perhaps Sam would be, maybe some of the older students, but not a majority. And Jack only made just enough at Chrysalis. “Great” pay would be fantastic.

“Yeah, I'n cool wit’ kids,” Jack avowed, “O’ course I’d has to check-out dis school of yours, doh, be-sore I make any pron-isses. What’s it called again?”

As Jack wandered to the register, the lady hurriedly scanned all of her items and pushed them into a plastic bag, uttering little more than perfunctory, “Hello, did you find everything that you were looking for?”. She had spoken at such a rate that, for a human, the greeting might have been imperceptible.

“Yes, I did, t’anks,” Jack said coolly. She was hunched over, to a more human height, but little could be done to quell the woman’s nerves. The cashier totaled the price, and the prawn fished the money out of her wallet, setting it flat on the little platform between her and the store associate.

The cashier shakily made change, and set it on the table, which Jack carefully picked-up and filed into her wallet. She then retrieved her bag, uttered a half-hearted thanks, and rumbled--

“Let’s get duh hell outta here,” to Sam.

Sam shrugged when Jack seemed taken a back, ”Where else would I offer it?” Sam asked, ”Mind you, might need to have an official interview but I think you’d be a good fit.” Sam said cracking open another beer and taking a swig. ”Xavier’s sister school. I call it mutant manor though.” Sam said pulling a card and offering it to Jack as if the card held all the answers.

>>>>“Let’s get duh hell outta here,”

”Do let’s.” Sam ignored the looks of the people who were staring as they exited the store. The doors whooshed open and Sam stopped pushing his cart when he spotted the three guys who were staring down Jack earlier. They were standing in the parking lot the way the bullies of a elementary school waits by the flag pole. “You shouldn’t shop here anymore.” Said one as the other two cracked their knuckles.

Sam rolled his eye and then waved them out of the way. ”Shoo flies.” the air got colder as Sam looked over his shoulder to Jack with a raised eyebrow.