To say that Skye hadn't been herself lately was a massive understatement. For awhile, she spent most of her time sad, with her hair and eyes reflecting it with their pulsing blue. But at some point, seemingly overnight that seemed to change. One morning, she just woke up angry. Now, her hair would be a crimson red, with that same crimson steadily radiating from her hands. 

Even now, as she cruised the mall, red light steadily glowed from inside the pockets of her black hoodie and bright red hair poked out from under the hood that was over her head. People naturally just seemed to give her a wide berth today, and for several reasons maybe that was for the best. Aside from her not being very much of a people person lately, she also had more of a tendency to lose control of her emotions--and therefore her powers--a lot more often lately. 

She found herself in the videogame store, her brown eyes scanning the selection in the back corner when her eyes fell on a copy of Fantasy Kart. Her mind flashed back through her memories as she held the game in her hands, which began to pulse more violently as she thought about playing this game with Mari. The night they shared their first kiss and started dating. Back when Mari had actually made time for her. Before....

Skye bit her lip as bitter tears began to roll down her face and she tried to shake it. She put the game back on the shelf and turned away. She had to get out of here. Had to take her mind off of it. 

"Are you okay, ma'am?" She barely heard the voice, lost in her thoughts. 

Suddenly, the entire room that was this small game store in the mall briefly lit up with a very bright white light. 

BANG!!!

His first stop in the mall was for art supplies. After that, he went hunting for gifts. Finding them was never the problem. Picking them was.

What did you get the girl who had everything? More things, it turned out. He got a bath bomb and some smelly soaps and things from one store, then headed towards the video game store, burdened by sacks.

It was a good thing he had strong legs. Strong arms, he could have wished for desperately. But every little bit counts.

His girlfriend Kenzi liked various games. JRPGs, simulators, games like civilization. Elliott was not a gamer, but he had a feeling her favorite genre, shoot em ups, was not lovingly referred to in the gamer community as FPS (if it were pronounced how she said it, faps). It was just a suspicion. She had to be screwing with him.

Now what had been the name of the new pirate-themed FPS game she’d been interested in been again? Call of... Booty? That couldn’t be right. If the person at the game store laughed at him, she was getting some coal alongside her games.

The store was across the path from him. Focused on his thoughts, he walked along until all of a sudden, the window was lit in a blinding white flash. There was a bang. And hero mode Cheshire took over.

He wasn’t wearing his identity obscuring motorcycle helmet with the painted smile that he changed out every other day. He was wearing a green elf hat that matched his own skin tone. He wasn’t wearing a black leather jacket, his usual costume for fighting crime. He was wearing a heavy blue Peacoat that looked fashionable. He’d gotten it for his birthday, on Halloween. He was wearing a black silk scarf, of all things. Thoroughly not dressed for battle. But regardless of his wardrobe malfunctions (or lack of planning), he burst into the video game store like it was on fire and he was the fire department.

And he said “Hey! What’s going on?!”

He had bags in either hand. Absolutely useless, if there were a gunman or a fight. Maybe he could bludgeon someone with a packet of potpourri?

Shit. It happened again. She thought she was over this but of course one small thing had to trigger her emotions and she just went off in the middle of a freaking game store. Panic was ensuing as people were complaining about the ringing in their ears or seeing spots, which was natural for her powers. Quickly, she pulled the hood over her head and stuffed her hands into her pockets as her hair turned purple, hands matching with a steady purple light to show her embarrassment.

Turning, she started to briskly walk out of the store when a green dude in an elf hat and a blue jacket burst into the room. "Hey! What's going on?"

She gulped, wanting to lie. It would have been so easy to lie, but when she opened her mouth to speak...

"That was me," she said weakly. "My powers are tied to my emotions and my emotions haven't been uhm....stable lately...Everyone will be okay they're just a little rocked. To my knowledge there aren't any long term effects from it..." Yeah that most definitely wasn't a lie...she couldn't even do that right these days.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to, but I need to get out of here, anyway," she murmured, trying to fight back the tears that streamed down her face.

Had anyone mentioned that the green elf hat had little elf ears glued to the sides? Because the green man had no ears, so to the common street observer the pointy Spock-alien grade ears of the hat could easily have been construed as his own ears. He’d even painted them green, as part of the joke. Which made his appearance as a willfully heroic idiot all the more idiotic.

It was especially more idiotic, when there was no reason to be heroic! Just a girl with purple hair and purple powers that had pulsed like a rave. ... which meant that, with his glow sticks deep in one pocket and her abilities, they could throw killer parties at will.

Her powers were emotion-based? She’d made a bright light? And she was upset? Hell.

Elliott tried to adjust his sacks so they were more comfortable, eventually just gripping two in one arm so he was unbalanced... too.

Kenzi would have killed him if he hadn’t tried to help. If there were ever a time for good samaritans and a friendly ear (no jokes, please), Christmas time was it.

“Okay.” Elliott said. “Do you— do you want to go somewhere and talk about it? I know I’m a complete tool and a complete stranger, but sometimes. You just gotta talk.”

He extended a hand with two fingers and a thumb. The hand was green. “I’m Elliott.”

She gave a smile, her hair still purple, but the lights on her hands not nearly as vibrant or pulsing. They were just...there, showing that she was still embarrassed but only slightly show. "Skye," she said as she shook his odd little hand. He seemed like a goof, but his heart was in the right place. "You know....I could really use a friend right now. I'll think I'll take you up on that. Maybe head to the coffee shop for some cocoa and donuts?"

She gave a smile as she made her way out of the store. "Since I seem to be causing all this trouble, my treat." Once releasing Elliott's hand, she stuffed both of her hands into her hoodie pocket as she began to idly yet somewhat briskly walk to the coffee shop a few stores down from the game shop. Hopefully her little episode in there wouldn't cause too much of an incident...

A past Elliott might’ve been wary of glowing shaking hands. Kenzi would have been very proud at him for being the one to offer the handshake. He was improving!

“Coffee and donuts sounds good,” Elliott agreed warmly.

The people in the store watched them go and we’re glad to see their backs. Sad but true, mutants who make disturbances aren’t popular at any time of year. Elliott didn’t notice the store owner with the handlebar mustache and sideburns watching them leave. He was focused on the girl with the purple hair.

He smiled at her offer of treating. It was a very zipper-like smile, but not a mean one.

“Aw, you don’t have to do that. Nice, but I’m fine going Dutch.”

If she insisted, he’d relent. It was kind of her, but it felt like an imposition for what was ultimately him just being nice. He certainly didn’t want to force her glowing hand.

Once his own hand was free again, he swapped some of the baggage off to it. “You caught me shopping.” He admitted. “I—“ a thought struck him, and he shook his head with a small smile. “Guess I’ll have to pop back there later and pick up that Call of Booty game my girlfriend wants for Christmas. Call of Booty.” He sighed. “Can you imagine a worse title? Pirate fps,” pronounced by him as FAPS. “You load up your musket and it takes an age, just to fire one shot at the other guy. But it’s okay because he’s loading his pistol and it takes forever, too.”

He guessed once you boarded, it got less convoluted and traditional. Less cannons and broadsides and reloading. More bloody cutlasses and swords.

“Guess it’s a nice change from tanks and choppers and world war 2 at least. I dunno. I’m not much of a gamer, myself. All thumbs.”

"Yeah, hot drinks and sweets have been my go to the past couple of weeks," she said with a small giggle. "If I don't ease up I'm liable to pack on some pounds though...." she said with a small sigh. Not that it mattered to her, really. Not like she was going to try dating ever again, after all.

"It's fine; I won't argue. The important thing is to try, right?" Was she still talking about paying? Maybe. She didn't know anymore. What she did know was somehow, some way, she was going to be okay again. But as it stood she just couldn't bare the thought of being alone. And sometimes all she wanted was to be alone. Emotions were weird, especially when your hair and hand-lights telegraphed them for the world to see. And sometimes hear and get blinded and deafened by.

"I've actually played that! It's not as bad as it sounds, honestly. I used to play it with my girlfriend all the time...when I had one..." Her hair flashed blue as the lights on her hands began to pulse rapidly and she bit her lip, closing her eyes as she took deep breaths. Slowly, the lights calmed down, and the hair stayed blue, but she at least managed to avoid exploding again.

"I understand. There was a time when all I did was party, play videogames, and watch old MMA tapes," she said with a slight, genuine giggle.

“Pft,” Elliott pft’d. “Sugar ain’t going to get you fat. It’s the fatty sugars that do it. You’re fine.” He brushed the thought away casually with a wave of his hand.

Now, he wasn’t saying she was fine. Or FOINE, if one needed to embrace the meme. He was saying she wasn’t fat. Maybe not fit, but not fat. He wasn’t flirting, just being nice. Even though she was cute.

If he’d been flirting, he’d have said something like “how could you ever be fat! You’d just get cuter.” Which was probably why he rarely succeeded at flirting.

Whoever paid didn’t matter so much to him. He had money. She apparently had money. They could have money together.


Back on the topic of games, apparently she’d played his game. With her girlfriend. What a coincidence! Although why was she biting her lip and why was her hair turning blue like she was blue emotionally or something? Bad break up??

He tried to ease the conversation back to less hand-flashy topics.

“MMA tapes?” He said excitedly. “I am all about the MMA! Though more on the training and fighting side than the watching. Who do you like?”

They reached the place with the coffee. It was called... surprise surprise, Coffee and Doughnuts: lets go nuts! There was an animatronic donut dancing in the window and an overwhelming smell of coffee that gave you a contact buzz. It was kind of tacky but he kind of loved it.

"Pretty sure donuts are fatty sugars," she teased lightly. "But thanks. Nice to know at best I'll just be out of shape," she said, a smile smile on her face.

She found herself spiraling back into sadness after mentioning Mari; that happened quite a lot over the past couple of months, and honestly she wasn't sure she could handle her powers setting off again. Just once was tiring, so twice in a row would have been even less pretty.

"I think Alex "Wolfblood" Desoto is pretty good as far as modern fighters go; he could really take the Welterweight division by storm in the next year or so I think," she said, her hair flicking orange as she talked about her lesser known passion. "You probably haven't, but have you heard of a guy named Blaine "Painkiller" Sinclaire? He was an amateur fighter who was caught up in the scandal before he went big-time. Opponent snapped his arm and he still went onto win the fight, without even flinching. Since he was revealed to be a mutant who couldn't feel, his entire record and his future contract was thrown out," she explained.

"Anyway, that's my uncle."

They made it to the donut shop, and she gave a smile. "Well, sport. Last chance to let the pretty lady pay for your food," she teased with a small smirk.

Desoto was cool.

He did not get despacito stuck in his head.

Good martial artist, decent ground fighter. He liked other people more, but that was just his hammy love of the kicking game. Grappling really wasn’t his style.

He noted the orange hair as he listened. Was orange interest?

Funny enough, he had heard of Blaine Sinclaire. He gave a slight nod, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

How had he heard about the man? Was it entirely due to the scandal? Or... no. He’d watched that fight at some point hadn’t he? Had someone uploaded a clip of it onto the internet? Had he actually BEEN there? Probably not. But he’d heard of him. Unless he was thinking about David Blaine and he was an idiot.

But he understood the concept, and had a good idea who the guy was. And he was her uncle.

“Small world.” Elliott said. “I think I saw that fight. Liked him. Bad luck it all fell out that way.”

“Desoto isn’t bad either. I like Rodgers and Hamm. More kick kick punch punch for your bang.” He faked some moves. Jab jab, leg sweep. “Desoto has a great ground game though.”

In front of the coffee shop, Elliott puffed out his cheeks in fake exasperation. “Well okay, girl. If you insist!”

He could shelve his ego and let a lady pay for his coffee. What did run these days? One dollar? Two?

“But if we get muffins or donuts, I got you.” He thumbed his chest.

"Yeah. He's doing well for himself now. He fought on the uh...less than legal circuit for awhile, and even picked up some submission moves. I'm trying to get him to teach me, but it's kinda hard for him since he's also learning how to take care of a now-one-year old," she said with a giggle.

"Yeah, striking is good, but it's nice to have a backup plan. Like when Rodgers went up against that guy from Kentucky...I think his name was Cobb? Blocked a kick, countered into a take-down, and one ankle lock later it was over. But then Cobb sorta faded into obscurity, but he showed some promise at first. Hamm, though? I'll admit he's got moves. In fact if he were to spice up his repertoire with a submission or two, he'd be near unbeatable." She found herself smiling, the orange lights of her hands pulsing a little. It'd been awhile since she'd talked Mixed Martial Arts with someone, and it was making her a little giddy.

"Deal. I cover coffee, you cover food," she said with a somewhat smug, victorious smile. She couldn't fight, but her wit was a weapon all on its own.

“Well that’s good. Glad he’s doing better.” Not that Elliott knew him, but it was good to hear people were doing good. Especially family members of potential friends.

And a kid too? “Kids are cute.” He agreed. “My girlfriend’s nephew. Will not stop watching Frozen. Or Tangled. Boy loves his cute princesses I guess.”

He shrugged one shoulder, in a ‘can you blame him?’ Gesture.

He found himself matching her smile as she went on about MMA stuff. “You certainly know your stuff,” Elliott said. “It’s so rare I actually find someone who understands that stuff. Unless you go to a sports bar or something.”

Which was fine and all. But it was way better when you actually were talking about it with someone you knew, who didn’t kept glancing at your green.

They had an understanding. “Deal,” he agreed.

They went into the coffee place. And immediately, he got in line.

He eyeballed the menu.

When he got to his turn he ordered a mocha and a blueberry muffin.

((OOC feel free to have them get their stuff and sit down. Elliott’s getting coffee and a muffin!))

"Yeah, they are adorable, but my favorite thing about other people's kids is I can spoil them and then give 'em back," she said with a snort. Kids were definitely not in her future anytime soon, that was for sure.

"Well, when I was little I used to watch just my uncle, but then I sorta got really into it. Not many people outside of sports bars like you said don't really talk about it though, and it's a damn shame, really." The color of her lights faded to a soft, content indigo as she talked; she was calming down and forgetting all about her issues.

Skye ordered a caramel donut and a cup of coffee, and they paid as planned before she led Elliot to a corner seat away from the crowd but next to a window so she could look out and see the rest of the mall; she loved window seats.

"So," she said after a moment, "You hear a mini explosion in a mall and hear people panicking, and you run towards it. You some sorta hero, or just crazy?" she said with a wink, her voice both interested and teasing him.

Spoil em and give em back. “Or give them loads of sugar then return them, in laymen’s terms. Someone else can deal with the rocket.” Elliott grinned at her.

So she’d grown up watching her uncle, and from there it has snowballed. Cool cool.

“It really is a shame,” he agreed. “You’d think more people would be into that.”

Donut and coffee, good choice. But he had his muffin. And it was crusty with sugar on top. Deelishus.

He plopped down in the booth with her, and tore off a hunk of muffin. Nibbled daintily. Didn’t shove the whole thing in his mouth like a heathen. And he paused, when she accused him of being a hero.

“Orphan, actually.” He finished chewing his bite. “Seen enough people with troubles growing up, in and out of homes. Know when someone needs help. And I’m trying to be more of a people person. Because I used to be a colossal dick.”

He wasn’t a hero. Benji had been the hero. He just occasionally did heroic things. And he wasn’t going to out himself as a costumed vigilante who routinely stopped muggers.

Skye laughed, shaking her head. "And that's why I'm okay just being the relative without kids," she said with a snort. "I can just give the kids back when they're a handful or loaded down with chocolate that I totally didn't give them."

She found herself starting to relax, between the coffee, the donut, and the company.

"Yeah, it's hard to find someone good to talk to about that, really. Seems like all the fans are in hiding for some reason," she said with a shrug. "If they were more my style, I'd wear more MMA stuff, but...they're just not comfortable to me. Don't fit my aesthetic, either." She took a bite of her donut, topped with chocolate icing and sprinkles. That really did hit the spot. Muffins were...okay, but they were breakfast. But to each their own.

"...Oh..." she didn't know what to say to the whole orphan thing, so, she didn't. "Well, you're doing great about not being a colossal dick, from what I can tell," she said softly, giving him a sincere smile. "Really. Thanks."