James turned to Amelia and blushed immediately. There she was waggling the Ditto shirt at him. So she can't read minds, if she could she would have been able to tell that's is not my kinda thing. He knew she was just teasing him, but he couldn't help feeling embarrassed. Even though the joke was pointed at the ditto on the shirt.

"Aha, I...erm...don't think that me wearing anything with the...uh...word...erm...stud on would really..." He trailed off into a nervous chuckle.

Stud really wasn't a word James could even imagine associating himself with. What if wearing it made people think he was sociable? Then he would have people talk to him. That would be terrifying, but maybe a good thing...no a bad thing.  Girlfriends hadn't ever been very high on James's list of priorities, not that he thought he was incapable...well, maybe a little. He had managed to keep a positive attitude towards the issue, although it wasn't something he really thought about.

James looked around, at anything but Ami and her bouncing eyebrows. He had to admit it was funny, even if it was at his expense. He smiled at it, even if it felt like it was born of nervous energy.

A teasing laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. "No? Too bad. Would have shown confidence. How's a guy going to be a stud if he can't be brave enough to wear a shirt that says as much?" She joked. Really, though, maybe it was a bit much. Why, it had practically said 'Breeding Material.' And knowing Ditto's role in Pokemon, that clearly had been the intent.

Folding the shirt carefully, Amelia set it back where it had been, and moved on. "Maybe a yellow polo, instead. I bet something like that would look good on you," she commented thoughtfully, glancing at a mannequin in a polo and khaki slacks.

James seemed the type to get nervous easily. Hopefully, he'd take the comment at face value, and not read too much into it.

"No? Too bad. Would have shown confidence. How's a guy going to be a stud if he can't be brave enough to wear a shirt that says as much?"

Well, that was the point. He wasn't and didn't want to be a stud. Although she was joking and the comment was in good humor. He smiled, feeling less shell-shocked, he even chuckled a little.

"Yeah, I'm brave. Just...y'know, not very good at the whole romance thing." James joked back, it was a major understatement but it didn't really matter. Amelia turned away and moved towards the more plain looking clothes, good. She couldn't tease him as much over there.

"Maybe a yellow polo, instead. I bet something like that would look good on you"

James shrugged. He guessed so, it was a bright colour and James was more drawn towards happy, positive colours than ones which were dark and depressing. However James was more focused on the slacks. He only ever wore jeans, maybe a change was in order.

"Yeah, I guess, but I really need some new trousers...I mean pants. The ones I have are all ripped at the knees and stuff."

"Ripped pants," Amelia agreed with a sage-like nod. "Are only good for hippies and Spongebob."

That style, ripped jeans, was out of style. Distressed jeans were a hippie thing, not a stylish thing. And while super models might pull it off, you hardly ever saw the attractive male leads wearing something like that.

"Suits are always good, and so are a nice pair of khaki pants, a polo, and a belt, with some nice shoes. It doesn't try too hard, and still looks like you actually tried. Didn't just roll out of bed in the morning and pull something on. Girls like it when guys dress in clothes that look good and match."

T-shirts were nice and all, but if he was really trying to get girls, he needed something more. "Shame you don't have the cash for a nice suit..." She commented, mostly to herself.

Mention of spoungebob made James laugh, it was true that the yellow guy used to rip his pants open quite often, then again he had got into worse situations with invisible ink.

Amelia seemed to think James was looking for a girlfriend, well he wasn't. Or at least that was what he had been telling himself. He didn't really need one anyway, what would he do with it? Well, besides the obvious stuff which you aren't supposed to mention, anyway.

Either way, James was kind of grateful for the fashion tips. They were certainly eye opening. He hadn't really considered the fact that girls might be more interested in guys who were well dressed. If it were him, he would be looking for someone who was willing to put up with his somewhat geeky interests, not his fashion sense.

Yeah, it was a shame he didn't have cash for a...wait. What? Oh, oh dear. James realized that he may have made a terrible mistake. Turning slowly to look at Amelia he muttered. "Yeah...shame I don't have m-money for...a...s-suit."

He probably looked terrified, he certainly felt terrified. He wondered if she would work it out, or if he would have to tell her awkwardly.

It was like that scene in the movies where someone walks into a club and the record suddenly scrapes to a stop. He didn't have money. For a suit. She looked at him warily.

"You have money for things other than a suit, though. Right?" Somehow, even as she said it, she realized he probably did not. Of course he didn't. If he'd had money, he'd have had clothes. It wasn't like he was saving up for the next Call of Modern Warfare HD or something. Clothes were required for most parts of living. They kept you warm. They kept you CLOTHED. And they kept you looking better than a hobo. Or a street person. Some hobos actually had the money to afford decent clothes. She didn't want to be unfair to hobos. "You don't, do you...?" She trailed a moment later, with a sigh.

He wasn't a charity case. He was just a teenage guy. Not homeless or hopeless. He could earn money. James just hadn't. And that was more his fault than her's. Like it or not, she really didn't have the money to just go around buying t-shirts for shirtless boys. College was expensive. So were all her extracurricular activities. Like Aikido class and the gym.

Although James was relieved that he didn't have to say it out loud, he was also suffering from a serious wave of anxiety, it tended to happen when something on this level of awkward happened.

A horrible feeling, comparable to nausea shot up from James' gut, infecting the rest of his body. His vision seemed to blur a little just as his heartbeat skyrocketed. The teenager wouldn't have been at all  surprised if Amelia could see the arteries on his neck pulsing. In situations like this, James would usually make an excuse and run away, but he couldn't really do that.

For a good ten seconds it was all James could do to stare at a space of in front of his eyes. Then his mind kind of crumbled in on itself, what was there to say? He had made a total prick of himself and wasted the nice girls time.

"No." James replied flatly. He was in a kind of emotional stasis, at a point where he literally couldn't feel any more awkward. Sighing he dumped the clothes on the nearest shelf and pulled out his wallet. After fiddling around a bit he got out the right change for two bus rides. Good, at least he could salvage something from the situation.

Without thinking much he took Amelia's hand and placed the change into it, then looked at her. Even in his current state his face went a deep red. "Here, Its change for two bus rides, one back and the other is for the one you wasted on me. Sorry for wasting your time, I'm an idiot."

Well, the best thing about a lowest point was it could only go up from there.

Silence. For ten long seconds. Nothing. Nada. Had he gone comatose? Had some sort of crazy attack like in some anime, and gotten frozen in time. What anime even was that where she'd seen someone react that way? Onegai Teacher? Was that it? Who cared? The moment before the moment before she would have decided to swipe her hand back and forth in front of his face to see if he was still in the world of the living, James spoke.

No, he said. No, what. His reaction, putting away the clothes, told her much more than the single word. Curiously, she watched him fiddle with his wallet. And then--

The hell?! He pushed some money into her palm. She met his eyes (ignoring his burning cheeks), and arched an eyebrow. And suddenly, he was calling himself an idiot. Despite herself, she found a newly discovered well of charity, well, welling up inside of her.

"It's okay," she said steadily. A hand brushed stray hair out of her eyes. She closed the other around the pocket change. "You aren't an idiot. I am." She met his eyes (or tried to, at least. If he wanted to keep them elsewhere, that was his own damn choice). "I should have asked you, instead of jumping the gun and assuming. You know what they say about people who assume?" She asked him.

James blinked. That reaction was completely unexpected. James expected her to agree and call him an idiot then walk off. Evidently he had completely misjudged the woman in front of him, the realization made him feel a little bad about it, after all Amelia hadn't done anything to suggest she was at all like that. James had assumed. Admittedly the assumption was probably fueled by his fear of women, not that it was an excuse. Just a reason.

The fuse in James' brain which had blown was swiftly replaced by the moving of the hair, at the end of the day James was still a teenager. What did they say about people who assume? Something about making an ass of yourself...he'd heard it somewhere.

"You make an ass of someone or something like that...right?" He couldn't quite remember, but saying anything was betting than sitting there and staring like a zombie.

"Basically, yeah." She pushed the money he'd given her back into his hand. "I think I can afford to get you a pair of jeans and a new t-shirt. Just think of it as early christmas or late birthday or early birthday or late christmas or something. Okay?"

That was the right thing to do. It was nice. Friendly. And helpful. And it made her a good person to actually volunteer that, she supposed. Though calling one's self a good person sort of had the opposite effect if you were saying that to other people. And who cared what the thoughts behind an act of charity were, anyway, because they had a phrase for that too, about gift horses.

"So, pick something good out," she finished lamely, looking him in the face.

James could count the total amount of friends he'd had in his lifetime on one hand. He could also count the amount of people who had gone out of their way to help him on one hand with a thumb to spare.  Although he hadn't admitted it to himself, that wasn't something he had expected to change for awhile. Either James was getting lucky or continuously pounding the words 'It will get better' into his brain for months was actually starting to pay off.

So one could say that the teenager wasn't so good at expressing his gratitude.

Amelia looked just as uncomfortable as James did himself, that helped. In a so very strange way. The gratitude in James lifted its head in surprised yet sluggish motion, sadly its wasn't used to being awoken all that often. A grateful smile split James' usually awkward and tomato red face from cheek to cheek.

"Wow. Thanks Amelia. I suppose that means I owe you one."

He stepped forwards and took the 'Han Shot First' shirt and a pair of jeans. "I've got to ask, though, are you sure its okay? I don't want to set you back without giving anything in return." James scuffed his foot forwards and backwards over the floor awkwardly. He wasn't trying to sound ungrateful, but he would rather go another couple of weeks with dying clothes and ask for a loan from someone like Serena. Then get a job, because there was no doubt that he would get a job after this fiasco.

If it wasn't too much of a problem then he was fine with the idea, but when people go out on a limb to help a sorry excuse like himself and suffer for it themselves, James found it just didn't sit right in his mind.

It was pretty soul destroying. Even if James wouldn't admit it to himself, the whole thing had made his originally dying resentment for his mother grow a little. Why did she have to give his clothes away? Just why?

She let him say he owed her, even though he really didn't. Was this charity? She supposed so. But if he wound up being a friend, would it still be charity? That was a fair question. Friends help friends, so no, it probably wouldn't be. Generous, maybe, but in answer to his follow-up question, "Yeah," she replied. "I'm sure about it. And don't worry about owing me anything. Friends help friends." She'd added the last part thoughtlessly, just rattling it off like rote fact. She hadn't even spent a moment thinking on whether or not he wanted a friend, or even something else.

She noticed he was scuffing his toe against the carpet and that her body language was equally awkward, and that they were both probably coming off as awkward teens to all the outside observers in the shop, who probably wanted to gag at the corny awkwardness of youth, so she broke into a grin and said "Now pick some things, quick. You're embarrassing me." She tried to fight back pink cheeks.