She hated the Mall. Had beef with it. Scorned it. Was filled with revulsion. You get the gist of her feelings towards the nicely scented hall of columns where shops butted against each other and the ways were filled with families and screaming children. Those temples of consumerism. This one, it was special, had a place in her heart.

This was, because the place was close to the Mansion. At least fairly close. You could also get many different things here you would have to search dolorously for in the big city itself. It was why she still came here.

There were counterarguments though. One was that the floors of polished stone were so well-waxed that even normal people had trouble not slipping around. The children found delight in it, slithered hither and yon like snakes in their sneakers. (Their possibly new sneakers, there was a shoe-shop somewhere around.) It was a nightmare for people with arthritis.
Oh and people stared at her. Some even made rude comments. This was because behind her a string of green-glowing bags was bobbing along nicely like pearls on a string. Her goods and goodies – for the Mansion teens had an insatiable lust for sweets she sometimes indulged – that amounted to a bit of a following. At the Asian Specialty store she was trying to get into now, she still needed a certain spice after all, there seemed to be a problem though.

Directly upon her arrival, the young man behind the register had blanched, stepped from his perch on a stool and was now furiously berating her. Only that he spoke something that sounded like Korean to her ears. And not quite complimentary. (She was able to infer this easily from the wildly rude hand motions. She was not a woman to be shooed around.)

To make a long story short, the young and very agitated man, he shoved at her. Shoved her out of the shop and onto the polished floor. Shoved her off balance and she began careening around. She was falling now.

Yes, she hated this mall.

((Didn't know if this was open, so I jumped in. Hope you don't mind! Let me know if you had something else planned for this! ))


It was time for some new clothes. The winter funk had finally become too much to bear, and the ratty flannels and threadbare woollen jumpers were due for an upgrade. Judging by the lightness in his pockets, chances were Mat was going to have to figure out some scheme. He could always try to pull the old golems-as-scary-mutants trick, but with all the anti-mutant sentiment following that gargoyle girl's assault, it was probably best not to stoke the embers too much. So he had decided to stroll the streets while he came up with a plan.

And found himself in a mall somewhere.

In Melbourne, when he was younger, he had enjoyed spending time in malls. Mostly, he had been checking out girls with whatever street rat he was hanging with at the time. Now, Mat wasn't sure when he had last stepped foot inside of one. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was older, or because of sleep deprivation, but he found a loathing rising the longer he spent in this place. A tension in his gut, that grew as he found himself surrounded by staring, gawking ants. People, like drones. The farther he walked, the more there seemed to be.

His face began to flush, and a nausea washed over him in a wave, gone as fast as it had come. Stepping to the side, in front of some store that looked like all the other, Mat took a moment to compose himself. He was pretty sure security would kick him out if he kept acting like a hobo.

It was then that he noticed the dispute coming from across the thoroughfare, a little old lady and a shopkeeper. Mat smirked, amused by the old duck's iron will. He didn't know what the argument was about, but he figured it was his duty as a bystander to stand back and be amused.

Until the little old lady got shoved to the ground.

Dulled reflexes meant that there was no way for Mat to realise he should try and catch the woman until she hit the deck. There was nothing he could do about that. What it did do, was allow Mat to react after the event.

”Oi! Tough guy!,” he shouted as he stormed towards the shopkeeper. Without thought, without consideration, Mat arched a fist back and swung.

Whether the man had just not seen him, or was whether he was so shocked by the hobo baring down on him that he couldn't react, the fist found itself connecting with the man's temple, dropping him to the ground.

”Big man on this side of the register, aren't ya'?”

Sitting on the ground... it was fun once. Back when I was young, when my knees would bend this way or that. Now it is painful, those boring needles in the joints turn into flaming chisles. Driven by a sadistic mason with more brawn than brain. Red hot things in the joints.

The Old Lady, she fell to the ground, her eyes tearing up from the pain. Her breaths were hissing through clenched theeth. Her hands balled to fists, clenched tightly. Her walking stick lay some small distance away whence it had skittered on the plolished floor. And her bag had been opened, strewing a host of things around her.

But these things, they would come later. For now there was pain. White inside the mind. (Yes, it has a color) Red outside. Her joints were already beginning to swell nicely from the abuse.

People were staring. Possibly less at her and the mess of things around. A lacey hankerchief stood out there. (It was a nice neon green. She loved that yarn.) Yes, she was a bit preoccupied. And finally her mind cleared. Only that her eyes were still teary. Horrible, quite horrible, she thought her first clear thought after the assault. It's just horrible how weak I have become.

It was not a new thought. It was an old friend, one quite familiar now. She had had it many times over the years. But possibly it had new urgency now. Here.

Mat shook his hand out, as the throbbing pain set in. He became vaguely aware of the gathering eyes. More'n'likely, he probably could have handled the situation a little more delicately, but in his eyes, pushing a little old lady down to the ground was more than enough reason to get dropped in return.

Pity his hand didn't agree.

Ignoring the shopkeeper, he turned around to face the fallen woman. She looked in pain, and he didn't blame her. Hopefully, she hadn't broken a hip, or whatever it was old people broke. Rushing over to her, he knelt down beside her. He snuck a glance around to make sure no one was stealing the woman's strewn possessions. He could pick those up for her after he helped her to her feet.

If he could help her to her feet.

"Hey lady, are you alright? That was a pretty shitty fall you took there."

He cringed inwardly.

You're not supposed to swear in front of little old ladys...

The man who knelt beside her looked a bit homeless. Unkempt and such. But he knelt down beside her, which made him her knight in shining armor. Also, the way he was handling his hand, he had been the one -- ah yes he had indeed been the one, slow old brians -- who had handeled that shopkeeper. She managed a smile. It was put on and looked it. Well, who was she to be perfect at acting?

>>Ah well young man, nothing these old bones won't be able to handle<< At least she hoped so. Busting a hip was nothing fun in her age. Even with the wonders of advanced medicine and surgery. Old people just didn't heal as well anymore. Part of the old and decreipt thing. She gripped the poffed hand firmly. Her hands had stopped shaking and now were warm and hard underneath that papery layer of old-people skin.

She got to her feet, her knight helping her nicely, and proceeded to dust off her clothing with firm swipes of her hands. She then proceeded to look at her strewn things firmly, if looks can be firm that is, and made them glow green and line up nicely in her purse. The shopkeeper lay forgotten at the side. People grasped at her show though. Some started hurrying along. No need to be here now. Urgent appointments. Root canal and such. Others stood still, with open mouths, watching her like some animal at the zoo. Others again would not look at her, as if she was coated in eye-grease. They would not move though.

She petted the hands of her rescuer. >> We shall have tea now.<< She announced as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe, like flying neon-green kerchiefs, they were. For her.