Adder's ears slid back as soon as Cafas looked at him. There was the line. That was definitely the line. The line was very very much behind him.

He held Cafas' gaze, though, even if it felt like all the muscles and bones in his neck and shoulders were shrinking in on themselves. If this was where the line was for Cafas, these stupid shoes, then-

Then what?

Because he was not going to put those on his feet. Any of them. None of them. They were not going to go on his feet. He took a breath to tell Cafas that, but then the much bigger mutant when had he forgotten just how much bigger Cafas was than him he was advancing and there was something poking into his back but he didn't remember backing up

Adder somehow kept up the eye contact, albeit with pupils that contracted further the more Cafas loomed over him and feeling like every bit of him that could move relative to his skeleton was sliding backwards, like Cafas was the top of a big hill and everything else could do nothing but fall away. His breath quivered in his chest, silent as the wolf shifter had become in entirety.

He couldn't look away, couldn't dare break that eye contact, but he couldn't remember the way through the maze of clothes racks and they were too short for him to go through them on all fours but too tall to jump over, so he would have to go around, but also they were metal and Cafas manipulated metal so it would be almost impossible to get out if Cafas could react at all quickly, but this was Cafas so of course he'd react quickly, so he doubly couldn't shift his eyes away, except he'd been looking at the same looming threatening frightening eye, just Cafas' right eye because he couldn't stay looking at both at once, he had to focus his resources, he'd been looking at it for so long that everything else was kind of dark and fuzzy and he couldn't even really see Cafas' eye either, but he knew he was still looking at it so he had to keep looking at it

His vision was so out of sorts that it took a few moments to fully realize that Cafas had broken the staring first, and then he could close his eyes and feel cold damp all over his skin under the sweater, so cold despite the summer that he shivered and couldn't stop shivering, or stop his other muscles from tingling like they'd been clenched as hard as they could the entire time.

Freed of the challenge, released of Cafas' anger, Adder tightened his arms against himself. His eyes were still closed when Cafas began to speak again, and he didn't want to open them and start all over again, but his ears found the will to turn away from his skull a little bit, not enough to free themselves of his hair but just to maybe catch the sound properly and actually hear what the x-man was saying.

That was a stupid reason and it was stupid to just go along with it.

But he couldn't say that. Couldn't even think it more than once. But he still didn't want to wear them, ever. So he'd have to tell Cafas.. but his throat refused to move, and his tongue. He couldn't just stand there - well, mostly crouch, half curled in on himself - with his eyes closed and mouth useless.

He got his eyes open, but didn't want to try to find the will to look away from the floor. When he finally managed to make sound, it was quiet, defeated, but still stubborn.

"They hurt."

Cafas' sigh was more defeated than he'd intended to let it be. That was the sort of information that would have been useful before he'd lost his temper like that. Hurting was different to being obstinate and childish about the whole affair. Cafas rubbed his face with one hand, stubble prickling at his skin. Was it already getting to that time of day? He'd barely noticed the passage of time.

"Okay. That's a different story. What hurts about them? Maybe we can work something out, there's enough mutant clothing suppliers springing up these days, someone must be able to do something." Nothing in the store they were standing in though. Off the wall made it unlikely that one would be appreciably different to another in terms of comfort for mutants. Fine, all they really needed was a phone then, the stack of clothes at the counter and a lesson in how laundry worked should do Adder for a while.

He should probably apologise, too. IT really wasn't Adder Cafas was annoyed at, he'd just touched on a raw nerve. Was it a loss of face to do so? Probably, but Cafas didn't really care, he didn't need to be right all the time, he needed to be himself all the time. "Hey, look, I'm sorry. I didn't really mean to get angry at you. I just..." How to explain it. More importantly, how to explain it without sounding like a cry-baby? "I've gone through a lot trying to protect this city, and all I seem to get in return is people questioning my motives, or saying I'm the problem. Guess it's made me touchy about feeling under appreciated. So yeah, sorry for over-reacting."

Cafas inclined his head toward the counter. "Come on, let's just pay for this stuff and go get a phone."

And now for Cafas to advance again -

except he didn't. His mood seemed to change quite a bit, and he asked. Adder hesitantly straightened up, ears still low, and blinked a few more times because his eyes still ached with dryness.

"They always squish or rub, or both. And they fall off, but not quite on every step so there's not really anything I can do. And they make me trip." He squished his toes against the cool, smooth ground. He liked being able to feel the ground. It felt more like he was part of the world, part of the background, and that was good. It was calm, reassuring.

Cafas was trying to draw him out of the background, towards the rich people who told all the stories and only told them about themselves and each other. He'd rather stay in the background, though. Just with some of the things that came with Cafas. The food and the security and the stability. He didn't want to be noticed.

He also didn't want to have to suddenly try to figure out what he was supposed to do now that Cafas was apologizing. And also rambling about city and people and some other stuff that Adder didn't really tune into. What was he supposed to make of a turnaround like that? Help and then anger and then whatever apologizing was. Was it all real? It had certainly seemed real, and he hadn't seemed especially deceitful thus far. Very much the opposite, really.

So Cafas had just lost his temper a little bit? Well, a lot bit. Adder shivered again and tucked himself into the sweater a little more. He did not like Cafas being angry. Not at all. But if Cafas were apologizing for it, did that mean that maybe Adder didn't have to leave? He didn't feel threatened anymore, but if he had ever known how to deal with a situation like this it had been so very much Before that it was long, long gone. He swallowed. Cafas expected him to say something, didn't he? But what could he say? What was he supposed to say? No problem, it's not like I thought I was going to die, nothing to think twice about?

Yeah no.

He felt so lost.

Squish and rub and fall off did not sound like things shoes should do. Not if they fit properly. Maybe that had been the problem. Well, that could be a problem for later. Later when Adder actually needed to go places. Cafas figured that at least for the moment, job was secondary to education if Adder was going to stay off the street. The mansion didn't really make many clothing demands of the students. It was hard to do when every other student had some physical aspect to their mutation that rendered normal clothing at best difficult to wear.

"I'm pretty sure I could find you some that don't do that. That can be a problem for another time. You wont have to wear them all the time, but some things do require it." Whatever, he'd explain that part when it became relevant. For the moment, Cafas felt it perhaps unwise to push the issue. It did no good to make Adder hate shoes even more by forcing his to get them. It was probably all a bit much for him.

Bit much for me too.

Cafas approached the register, where the shop attendant had the clothes already scanned and bagged. The X-man smiled and handed over his card, making polite small-talk for the minute it took for the transaction to process. He'd be talking to his bank about that one later, no doubt. That quantity of clothing was not something they were used to. They'd called him before L.A. too. Apparently buying your girlfriend a whole wardrobe of clothing counted as suspicious activity.

Cafas offered Adder the bags. "Want to get changed into some of the new clothes? You'll stick out less buying a phone if you do."

Adder could already feel the back of his neck tightening, hackles he didn't currently show rising in worry, but then Cafas put the shoes off into the vague future and Adder could set the worry aside. Future wasn't now. He'd deal with it then, not now.

He hung back while Cafas went over to the shopperson-who-stared. She was probably still watching him, suspecting him, waiting for an excuse to call security. Let Cafas deal with her. He lurked in the background, hands tucked in the fuzzy sleeves, and watched. And waited. Eventually Cafas turned, and then Adder arranged to be close enough to take the bags.

Clothes. For him. That were both new and not stolen or damaged.

Still a little surreal. And duh he didn't want to keep wearing his old dirty stuff. Did Cafas even need to ask? He would have already been wearing the new stuff if Cafas had let him before. Harrumph.

He stalked back to the changeroom, vaguely grumbling to himself about changing standards. Couldn't wear them then, could wear them now. Really.

Adder stuffed his old clothes into the bag too, since while they might be dirtier and older they weren't in such bad shape as to just abandon them right now, and headed out to continue this head-spinning trip.