Size? That was a question he could answer! Adder's ears crept up a little bit, no longer quite completely stress-plastered to his head outside of their nervous flicking. "I can get any normal adult size on," he said. Some of them bit into his shoulders or his neck or his hips, though, and those ones didn't last very long. Plus he didn't like them. They were uncomfortable and sometimes outright hurt. There was kind of a problem when his clothes left more bruises than fists and sticks.

He did his best to keep pace as Cafas moved around, uncertain of the difference between the different shirts he was grabbing. Some of them looked like exactly the same shirt. Why would they bother to make everything same? Why not let them vary? Things weren't usually identical. There was probably a rich person reason, built on stuff he didn't know. They seemed to do that a lot.

The salesperson was moving. Adder paused midstep, vision almost completely blocked by the nearest rack, but he could hear her walking across the store. Her shoes made so much noise, at least to him. She didn't come towards them, just sort of across, paused and shuffled fabric-sound and a little bit of metal-sound, and then walked back to the counter to shuffle more fabric. Was she testing to see what they'd do? He wasn't going to move just yet. Had she seen him, really? Was she waiting to make a move? Waiting for other people to come? Cafas was rather intimidating, visually. And also he could reek when he had been on his bike, but other people never seemed to even notice smells even when they were so strong it felt like his whole face was going to fall off or crumple in on itself or catch on fire.

Speaking of Cafas. Cafas was talking. Adder had been paying more attention to the salesperson because Cafas was safe and not a threat, therefore he didn't have to spend all of his energy paying attention to exactly what Cafas was doing. Something about not testing to see if something ripped? The shirts? Why would he try to rip them? He just wanted them to not rip. Ripping them would defeat the purpose. And feel best to wear? That was. What even was that? Just not-digging-in and stuff? But they could just grab bigger sizes and go and then that wouldn't be a problem. Bigger was always easier and then he could wrap it around himself more when it got cold. Bigger had more. So why not get bigger?

The little doors Cafas pointed at looked like they would at least stop the salesperson from watching him, though, so he could play along with the whatever Cafas had in mind. After he got over there, now carrying a bunch of odd-smelling clothing. With intent and a destination, Adder's nervous energy slipped (more or less) into harness, and he moved fluidly through the racks as appropriate to avoiding the salesperson's attention. It was so much easier to go to a place than it was to just exist without notice. He had a specific reason, that helped. A purpose to it. A more defined one than just 'stay alive,' although that was an excellent reason that was always a good reason to do things.

He pushed into one of the change rooms with his shoulder, and then hastily put the clothes on the little bench and spun around to shove the lock closed. A quick, light test of the door to ensure it was actually locked, and then he could step back and breathe and calm down a tiny bit. He could hear and smell outside of the tiny room without issue, but he couldn't see, and if he couldn't see then he probably couldn't be seen. So then the salesperson couldn't be watching him even if she'd seen him get in here, which was possible but not guaranteed. He would work under the assumption she had and the hope she had not.

He just quietly, trying-not-to-think-it-at-all, worried that Cafas might leave while he was in there, for some reason, and did his best to follow Cafas' directions quickly.



The wolf shifter eventually emerged from the change room, some of his nervousness traded for a less familiar flavour of awkwardness. He kept his weight even more on the balls of his feet than before, just shy of rocking as he edged out. One arm gripped a bundle of cloth - most of the shirts Cafas had grabbed and not one but two clearly older t-shirts he had actually taken off - while the other hand tugged at the cuffs of one of the new shirts, a pull-over shirt that was maybe just a little bit big by other people's standards. For Adder, it was loose enough in the shoulders and throat that it didn't bother him, and he could hide his hands in the sleeves, and it didn't seem bothered by having his kind of slightly melted vest on top, and it felt like heavy material so it should last, even if the seams were all stiff and made his skin jump and crawl and chafe underneath. His old shirts weren't like that, but all of the new ones were, so maybe it was just how they were. Stiff. He was used to old things being stiffer than new things.

"This one fit the best," he told Cafas quietly, glancing over at the salesperson to see if she was bothered by him wearing and holding stuff he hadn't paid for.

Adult sizes indeed. That was most unhelpful. Cafas would just have to rely on doing things by eye for the time being, until Adder could try some things on. Then he'd just keep going with whatever size that happened to be. The X-man followed the wolf through his circuitous route to the change rooms, trying to think of a way to convince Adder he was fine and allowed to be in there.

Probably not possible. Gotta try anyway.

He waited patiently outside while Adder changed, maybe foolishly assuming the shifter would come out with several things that he liked. Well, maybe not liked, but things that fit, at the very least. It was something of surprise when he came out with but one shirt, and he had it on. It was a bit looser than Cafas had assumed he'd go for, but then he'd really been guessing based on nothing at all.

"Good. Did you like any of the others? Only one's gonna leave you a bit cold on laundry day." Also a bit naked. Couldn't have that, he lived in a school. Cafas still felt bad for answering his door in only boxers when Kat had come looking for him. He'd have put more on if he'd known it was her. Live and learn.

Adder was also still wearing his vest. That vest looked like it had seen better days, but only at a distance, and it had kinda had to squint to make them out. IT would need replacing as well, if Adder would part with it. Cafas had seen just the thing while he'd been waiting. Adder was going to look positively adorable in it, which would force people upon him, but it was going to be wonderfully warm, do he couldn't even complain.

"You should probably replace that vest too, it looks like it's falling apart, not to mention the big burned section. You change back into your other shirt and I'll go find something."

Laundry... day? The barely-existent sliver of relaxation that probably definitely didn't come from Cafas' approval fell over and broke, leaving a whole lot more confusion than should have fit into it. Maybe he could think this one through. It had to involve clothing, since it would leave him cold.

If he took his clothes off for something, though, couldn't he just put them back on? No, he was going to need more information on this. At some point. It probably wasn't really all that important.

"You said the one that felt best," Adder mutter-protested, but separated a second shirt from the bundle. It was dark blue and reminded him of shadows, so that was kind of reassuring, and it was only a little smaller than the one he had on now, so he felt the seams more but it didn't go as far as to dig into his skin. "This one's okay too." But he still didn't get why he needed more than one. He couldn't wear them at the same time, so he'd have to stash the other one.

Replacing his vest altogether was actually met with minimal resistance; it reminded him of fire now, a little bit, and it left his arms cold, and the zipper was broken and it was hard to open and close. But why did he have to go put his old shirt back on? Why not just wear this one? Was there some weird rich person rule for stores, that you had to carry things with hands and not wear them? What was the difference, really? If anything it would be easier to see it.

Was Cafas planning on sneaking it out? That would make wearing the old shirts make more sense. Then he could say that they hadn't found anything, and he would be believed, and then they could go and they would have the clothes.

It made enough sense, so he (still reluctantly) nodded and headed back to the change room. Where the zipper on his vest broke even more, and definitely wouldn't open or close now, so he had to haul it over his head (which he could do because his ribs didn't hurt!). He may have thrown it against the wall a little bit. He also left the changing room carrying it, and rather openly annoyed with it.

"It broke more," he explained, and tilted his head to look for what Cafas had found to replace it.

"That was mostly about finding the right size for you." Cafas almost didn't bother explaining to Adder's retreating form. At least he'd picked a second. Cafas would have to check the size to see if he could match the two. He actually couldn't remember if those two were the same or not. Instead, he used the time to go pick up that sweater. He hoped Adder would wear it, he really did.

Okay so that one was what size? Can't remember, let's just go with... Yeah that on.

By the time Adder came back, holding the remains of his vest, Cafas was trying not to look overly happy with his find. If he seemed too amused, Adder would be suspicious. The Wolf tilted his head, which was kind of adorable, and Cafas offered the sweater in all its sock monkey glory. "Here, I'll take the vest and the shirts you want, you try this on."

I really hope he likes that...

Cafas took the vest and shirts. The vest found its way exactly where it belonged, into the trash. The shirts Cafas put on the counter, smiling and offering "New wardrobe" by way of explanation. The woman nodded and made a passing comment about how sweet it wads for Cafas to do that for the boy. Cafas just smiled. He'd have been offended that she assumed Adder was homeless, but, well, he had been. Quite recently, in fact.

He returned to the changing room, making note of a few pairs of pants along the way. A thought that had evaded him previously suddenly sprang up at the mention of pants. Adder would almost certainly need underwear. If he only had one set... Nope, he was not following that thought process anywhere, he would grab a couple packs of boxer briefs for Adder and just guess for size based on the rest of the clothing.

Right size? But they all fit. There were advantages to all sorts of sizes. Adder didn't bring any of them up, though, because Cafas was holding something that looked infinitely warmer than his vest.

It looked fuzzy.

And Cafas was offering it to him, so he snatched it. It was fuzzy. It was actually soft and fuzzy in his hands. And smelled different from the other clothes. Different material? He could believe it was a very different material. It... it was so fuzzy. Fuzzy.

He didn't quite dart back into the change room, but he did haul it on the moment he was inside and the door was locked. It was fuzzy. It was fuzzy all over. And it didn't rub at his skin like the shirts' seams did. It was super warm, too warm for most of the summer, but if he was already stashing one thing...

He buried his face in the collar. And his hands in the sleeves, where they were enveloped in the fuzziness. He definitely hadn't had anything this fuzzy in all the time he had been alone. Ever. At all. Except maybe when a kitten let him pat it. But street kittens weren't often friendly, or if they were it was because they were super desperate and not fuzzy because they were miserable and wet or muddy or matted.

Cafas was probably waiting for him. Adder mostly wanted to just hang out with the fuzzy, though, so he dawdled a bit. He didn't want to take it off so Cafas could spirit it away, even if it would get to be his again afterwards. Just a bit longer. Then he would take it off and go out and let go of it but only for a while. Temporary. Or he would bite Cafas very hard, and probably shift a few times to see how much that would maul him when his teeth moved around.

But he didn't want to take it off, he wanted to keep it on.

So he did, and did his very, very best to be super casually casual as he left the privacy of the little room.

Cafas supressed a sound usually reserved for kittens or puppies, that would almost certainly destroy his tough guy veneer for all these people. Cafas was not a tough guy. Well, he was pretty tough, and he was a guy, but not like, a tough guy. Ignore the motorcycle. Anyway, the sound never escaped him and his face was kept carefully neutral, not scrunched up at the adorableness.

He was so... What was the word? Fuzzy! Yes! He was so fuzzy. That jumper was just so adorable. Cafas maintained composure with a bit of a struggle. "Do you like it?" He asked, approaching to get a closer look. It fit, with a bit of room, just like the shirt. With some training adder would probably end up filling it out, but that was also fine. The metal manipulator tried to get a read on Adder, which usually wasn't too difficult, but found himself looking at someone far more casual than, say, the very nervous wolf shifter that had just gone into the changing room.

Yeah, he likes it.

"You don't seem terribly excited... I mean, we could totally put it back, you don't have to get it." Cafas teased, his tone hinting that he could totally tell. There was no way Adder was that relaxed. The X-man circled around the back of Adder and smiled mischievously. "It does look pretty warm though, oh, and what's this? A HOOD!" His final word was accompanied by a darting of hands, pulling the hood up and over Adder's head. He really did look like a sock monkey in it.

"Here, Let me get the tag off and I'll take it over and pay for it now. That way you don't have to take it off."

Did he like it? Adder shrugged. Like wasn't a word he used. He wasn't giving it up -

what was Cafas doing? There was no way he was going to put it back. Adder would bite him so very very very hard if he tried, and it wasn't a bluff because he would actually do it even if people tasted gross. And sneaking around behind to try to get it off wouldn't work either! Adder moved to follow him, not nearly calm enough despite his façade to let someone, anyone, circle around behind him unwatched, but not fast enough before Cafas struck.

Adder was going for angry mauling and was halfway to shifting, almost-fur hazing his exposed skin, before there was supersupersuper fuzzy hood on his head and in his face.

Full stop.

Cafas... hadn't been trying to take it off. It was a prank. Cafas was being silly. Why was Cafas being silly?

But it was fuzzy.

And also really warm okay okay okay he really needed to not have the hood on if he was going to tolerate the temperature that went with the fuzziness. Like right now. Adder shoved at the hood, getting it off of his head (mostly) before he started panting, but left his hands in the fuzzy folds for a moment.

Tag? Pay? Don't have to take it off?

He could totally blame the slower processing time on the heat. And maybe also on this being a new thing. Um, tag. If he took the tag off and gave it to Cafas, then he could keep the sweater on. The fuzzy sweater. Why didn't matter. What mattered was that he could keep it on. If he gave Cafas the tag. Which would be the papery plasticy thing kind of poking the back of his neck, probably? It was definitely something which his normal old clothes never had, and was therefore something that should come off. And his hands were already right by it! So he tugged it off and reluctantly pulled out one hand so he could hold the tag where Cafas could grab it.

Perhaps, in future, less ambushing of the distrustful wolf. Hands were not made to be chew toys, and Adder's disposition perhaps hinted that it was a very close call. Noting this, Cafas smiled his way back to the front of the shifter. "Yeah, probably a bit warm for a hood." Adder did not seem terribly amused. Perhaps confused, but not amused. The X-man, on the other hand, was totally amused. It had been funny, and adorable, and terribly fuzzy.

Oh boy he's not going to know what to do with all the girls that are going to love that hoodie.

A tag, poking reluctantly out of a sleeve, came a short moment later. Cafas accepted it. "Alright, Now over there are some pants. Go look for something you like the look of. Jeans like what I'm wearing will be sturdy, but I think I saw some specific hiking pants that looked like they said tear proof. I'm gonna go pay for this so the lady doesn't get worried we're gonna steal it." Cafas pointed Adder the way of the pants he'd spotted, then about faced and made his way to the counter again.

"I take it he liked it?" The clerk asked warmly as Cafas handed over the tag. "Well I haven't seen him so protective of anything else, so I'm going with yes." Cafas returned the woman's smile. "Just ring this one up, I don't think I could convince him to take it off now."

One hundrer dollars later, the transaction was concluded, and Cafas wandered his way back to Adder. "If you can't find anything, we can try some other stores. There's all sorts."

The metal manipulator was all smiles and Adder did not trust that much smiling. He maybealmostkindanotreallynotactuallyreallybutmaybekindaalmost-trusted Cafas, but not the smiling. The smiling was very suspicious, and if Adder wasn't preoccupied with staying in the fuzzy sweater maybe he would have done more about it than glare.

He put a lot into that glare, though, even when Cafas tried to pass him off on pants. His pants weren't even that torn up. And none of these pants were fuzzy so it wasn't going to be like they had anything in common with the sweater. They were just pants. They just had to not die fast.

There was absolutely no way he was going to follow Cafas over the salesperson for whatever weird rich person ritual was going on, where Adder could wear one thing and not another and not have a problem, and maybe Cafas wasn't actually going to sneak anything out, but then it didn't make sense that he had to put his old shirts back on, but getting to keep the sweater on also made that not make sense. Not that he was trying to have to take it off, mind!

So, pants.

Pants.

Pants.

They all looked like variants of pants. Apparently some said tear proof or something, but he would have had to take his hands out of the sleeves to move the tags so he could see. So he just kind of wandered a bit, eyes and ears flashing back to Cafas every now and then.

"They just look like pants," he muttered when Cafas returned. "They aren't the same but they kind of are."

Pants were just pants? Hardly! But then, Cafas had been wearing cargo pants for years before his stylist started insisting on dressing him like, as he put it, "A Casual Adult". Apparently constant Cargo pants made him look like either a teenager, or a crazy person. So yeah, maybe pants were just pants to Adder. That didn't mean he got out of wearing them. Or owning more than one pair.

Cafas tried to think of some way to narrow down the selection as he meandered around, checking what was on offer. Here and there he saw some things he figured Adder would at least tolerate. He could probably also do with a few more shirts, but Cafas could handle that after. For that moment, he just needed enough to make sure adder was fully clothed.

Shoes, probably need shoes.

"Come on, how about we start with colour. Do you prefer blue, black, or grey?" Cafas quickly found some examples of each. Ignoring that one was a pair of jeans and both the others were some form of proprietary material that was impossible to tear or something. Maybe Adder would rather some cargo pants. Some good, solidly constructed cargo pants. Cafas was sure he could find some. Baggy with heaps of storage, didn't limit movement too much, tended to be sturdy. Cafas really missed his cargo pants.

Stupid jeans.

Adder tucked his sleeved hands under his chin and trailed after Cafas. Pants weren't like his vest. They were still fine. And these were all. Well. At least Cafas seemed to see some differences between them. He'd just let Cafas pick-

nope, Cafas was still making him pick. He huffed. "Colour doesn't matter." Cafas was still going to make him choose, though, and probably wouldn't take a random grab well. It didn't seem like something Cafas would accept.

He knew jeans. He was used to jeans. He was used to jeans not-tearing best, but if Cafas thought that these would be good, then maybe they would. Except that went right back to not being able to pick. He shifted where he stood. Fuzzy. But pants shouldn't be fuzzy or they would die, and he had the sweater for fuzzy. Fuzzy on his throat and hands.

"Why's colour matter," he said, quieter.

Why... Why did colour matter. Cafas paused, three sets of pants held between two hands, trying to answer the question. He blinked twice while his brain worked, a third time just for good measure, as he stood in confused silence. How did one answer that question? Was it actually important at all? His stylist would say yes. So would he. Why though?

"I actually couldn't tell you. I guess it's about owning things you like. Colour is a big factor in that for a lot of people." But was it important? It had to be, right? Everyone made such a fuss over it. "Honestly I was just trying to narrow down some selection criteria." Colour had been the most obvious. Now he was doubting it even made sense at all.

But I mean... It has to.

No matter, he wasn't convincing himself, and he wasn't coming to any solution. Therefore it could wait for another time when he wasn't trying to buy clothes for someone who didn't seem like they'd had options in their entire life. Actually, that was seeming like a real possibility to Cafas. The pants in his hands dropped slightly lower as he stopped focusing on keeping them raised. Instead he was trying to pick other characteristics to narrow the selection by.

Adder watched Cafas think from the fuzziness of the sweater collar. Apparently he hadn't been expecting that question. That was kind of okay. Adder hadn't been expecting to ask it. It just kind of happened.

He had made Cafas uncertain, though, and the uncertainty was contagious. Not that Adder was often all that certain, especially in situations involving people and not basic survival. This was definitely not basic survival.

There had to be some way to fix this, but Adder would have had an easier time climbing a branchless tree with paws instead of hands. Still, he floundered around in his head, looking and looking and looking.

"I... " He felt like 'like' was the word Cafas would use here, although it really wasn't something that came to mind for him. But if Cafas would understand it, maybe it would work? "I like pants with pockets?" he offered slowly, waiting and watching to see how Cafas would react.

"Pants with... Pockets. Alright, prepare to have your mind blown." He'd seen cargo pants. Proper cargo pants, 90s style with pockets the size of small bags, none of these silly 00s+ cargo pants with just enough space to squeeze a phone in. They were, yeah, left at the north face, there! Cafas had kind of just draped the previous pants over a nearby rack, leaving hands free for a much better choice in pant.

Oh god the pocket space.

He brought a selection of colours, a total of six pairs draped over his arm. He didn't necesarilly approve of ll of them, but it was Adder's choice. Green, tan, black, grey, red, and blue. A good range to choose from (more importantly, about as many as Cafas felt like carrying at once. He returned to Adder and held out the pants for inspection. "Pockets." The X-man beamed. If Adder hadn't seen Cargo pants, well, it wasn't goingto be the sweater, but it'd be close.

I could get away with it... I could totally own one pair. No, no, I'd have to buy some fashion brand ones, I always feel like an idiot in cargo pants with small pockets.

Cafas had some devious plan. Should Adder try to interfere or just wait to see what the plan was? Cafas had come up with the fuzzy sweater. Adder could follow him a bit and see what happened.

He caught the salesperson watching and slid behind a rack again, but slipped after Cafas. She didn't move, and after a while Adder moved back into the middle of the aisle as he moved down it. He didn't move as quickly as Cafas, but that turned out to be just fine: the metal manipulator grabbed a few things and then turned to come back.

Cafas had pants. A bunch of pants, some lighter and some darker. Maybe some of the ones that looked the same were different sizes? Cafas was pretty concerned with sizes. It was harder to wear big pants, it was true. They had to be small enough that they didn't fall down, but not so small that they were like a twisty vine choking his legs.

They did have pockets, and Adder found himself nodding a little bit. Yes, pockets. Pockets were good. And his offering had made Cafas happy and focused again! Some of the tightness from watching the salesperson watch him faded out of the middle of his chest, and he reached out to take a pair from Cafas. It was one of the middlish darkish but not dark ones; he didn't really care which; and it felt... weird in his hands. Coarse but not coarse, smoother than jeans like even the rough parts of his hands couldn't catch on the material.

"It feels weird." Neither negative nor positive, simply observation. Still, though, the first observation he had freely offered in some time.