It's Friday, Friday~
Gotta get down on Friday~

Amelia hummed to herself.

It was Saturday, actually. But nobody needed to know that.

Damn catchy tunes. Like VD for the brain.

Since it was Saturday, the mall was thriving. Teenagers flocked to the cinema, or browsed book store shelves (yeah right) while they (more accurately) browsed book store boys. Some even tried to impress the clerks with their knowledge of high quality 'literature'.

Many clerks scoffed at young girl literature definitions.

Amelia browsed the shelves in a clothing store. She was looking at some really cute jeans.

Turning, with jeans in-hand, she moved to take them to the register.

As all good stories start, this one started with a collision. Amelia bumped into someone.

...

"Ow."

He went to the mall to get warm, not to shop. Chase hadn't the money to shop, though the temptation to lift a coat was incredible-- it got remarkably cold at night and, equipped with only a hoodie, it was difficult to keep warm. Chase couldn't just go to a homeless shelter and get donated clothing, either-- because of his mutation, he could only safely wear new clothes, and any hand-me-downs ran the risk of causing him to shift. And, though Chase were sorely tempted to steal a coat, stealing clothes and stealing food were two different matters, in his mind-- he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was thus without a coat, and resorted to meandering around within public places to keep warm.

Chase wasn't so dirty that he stuck out, but there was enough grunginess about him that it was obvious he needed a bath of some sort. There was no particular perfume about him that made his scent unpleasant, he was simply dirty... quite a feat, for a runaway, to be dirty yet bear no particular odor.

Chase gravitated towards the mall because it had always fascinated him-- the possibilities of what one could wear, of what one could buy. He didn't like shopping, he just liked looking-- at the clothes and other goods, and at the people. Malls were excellent places to practice picking up on various mannerisms. He meandered into yet another clothing store, letting his gaze wander, and he drifted into a comfortable inattentiveness. All it took was that single moment of not paying attention, for Chase to get mowed over by a shopper on a mission. He didn't fall, but in the collision his glasses were knocked from his face.

>> "Ow."

His sentiment exactly. As the glasses had fallen, they'd pinched his temple, which Chase now touched gingerly with his fingers. But this girl probably hurt more, for she'd just been prodded in the stomach with the sharp corner of the sunglasses' rim.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, peering up to look at the girl before bending down to retrieve his sunglasses, "Are you okay? I run into people a lot." A flicker of concerned yellow-orange may have simmered through his bright-turquoise gaze, but only in a brief glimmer before Chase bent down to retrieve his glasses from the floor.

"I'm fine," Amelia replied. "No harm done. Should have looked where I was going." Weird weird. Usually she did.

Had she just seen some strange color flash in his eyes? Maybe. But she wasn't saying a word.

He seemed alright. Save for the fallen sunglasses. But they didn't appear broken.

"They didn't break, right?" She asked. She noticed something as the boy bent to pick his glasses up from the floor. Hadn't his mother ever told him to wash behind his ears?

His eyes simmered down to their typical coloration as the girl reassured him that, no, she was indeed fine, unhurt, and wasn't watching where she went either. Chase sighed, nodded his head, and gave a short, "Good."

As he turned his attention to his glasses, the girl posed her question, "They didn't break, right?"

Chase picked up his glasses bye the arms, only to find that, in the fall, one of the plastic lenses not only had popped out, but shattered altogether. Weren't these things supposed to be shatter-resistant? Well, they hadn't been very high-end shades to begin with, but still-- they'd been his only pair.

A wave of dread hit his stomach, and Chase tried to swallow his nerves. They were just sunglasses, they could be replaced-- but he couldn't buy them, for he hadn't any money, and he refused to steal clothes, or their accessories. They weren't essentail, he told himself, but now he could only hide one eye, which was as effective as not hiding his eyes at all.

"It's fine," Chase explained, picking up the three, clean pieces of the broken lense, and sliding the unbroken portion of his shades into his pocket, "These were old, anyways-- I was hoping to get new ones." He let his eyes flick to the older girl for a moment, gave a subdued smile. His eyes now adopted flecks of distressed yellow-green, and he quickly dropped his gaze to the lens fragments, sliding those into his pocket, too.

Aw. They had broken. He seemed pretty sad about it, too. It most certainly wasn't fine. She could tell he wasn't happy about it, or even dealing. Just making excuses.

And there were those color-changing eyes again. He was a mutant.

Amelia 'hmm'd. "You know..." She trailed. "I could buy you a new pair?" It would mean doing without the new pair of pants, but... it was the right thing to do. And she'd been raised right. Break someone's stuff, you fix it for them.

If this kid was a mutant and using sunglasses to cover for color-changing eyes, then... she didn't want him to get in trouble, if some bigot came wandering around.

Some bigot came wandering around. "Hey." He boomed. And he was big.

>> "You know... I could buy you a new pair?"

"You would do that?" Chase reiterated, rosy hues of delight taking hold of his eyes. What was it with strangers buying him things?

"That's very kind of you, but I couldn't p-"

"Hey."

Chase jumped as a resounding, baritone voice cut him off. Okay, so maybe he was a bit jumpy. Maybe this guy was the brunette's brother or cousin, or father. Chase tried to cool his nerves, his mostly-turquoise flicking towards the massively-built newcomer. The momentary flickers of delight were once again replaced by anxiety in Chase's gaze.

"Evening," the eight-year-old replied quietly.

"Don't want no pleasantries from a mutant." The big guy bellowed. If Chase had extended a hand right then, he'd have smacked it away. He was mad. And big. And did I mention big?

Amelia stared. Then, she sighed and smacked her forehead. "Fricken idiot..." She muttered.

He turned his eyes towards her on the spot. "What'd you say, lil miss? You a mutant, too?"

"You have a hormonal problem?" Amelia asked. "And stuff clogging your ears? I said you were an idiot. Leave us alone."

Big guy loomed over her. "Not a bright idea, bein' rude to me. Know what I did to the last guy who did dat?" He asked. A wry smirk had contorted his square face into a shape like a stop sign.

"You killed him?" She guessed, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. She was unimpressed.

"Close." The big guy commented. The smile grew wider. "I found someone he cared about and made him watch me kill them."

Okay. This guy was absolutely insane. Amelia sighed, then glanced towards the kid. "Hey." She got his attention. When his eyes turned her way, she smiled bravely. "Run."

Ilaria never noticed, really, how short (miniscule) she was.

Sometimes she was more then aware, as if she could notice nothing else. But sometimes, times like this, she couldn't help but sigh. She was sitting on a bench and her feet couldn't even reach the floor. It wouldn't be so bad, but she was at the mall with Kitty and that meant a lot of walking (patience). Maybe she should have worn more comfortable shoes, as sandals were a bad (horrible) idea.

“Bored already, dear Pucky?” Kitty's rather thick French accent cut into Ilaria's musings, and the Japanese girl looked up to the tall, six foot blond and shrugged. “We've only been here...” A beat. “Three hours.”

“Four.” Ilaria sighed. “Kitty set her watch backwards so she could find an excuse to come to work late. Again.”

“Ah. Yes.” The blond muttered. Sometimes Ilaria forgot how blunt (French) the blond woman could be. “Forgot I used that one already. Might have to think up of some others, yes? Can't have you getting too bored, after all. And besides, this is a clothing store. A girly girl like you can't get too bored in such a place, right?”

“I guess.” Ilaria pulled up her legs and hugged her knees a bit. “Guess I am just wondering how the store is doing.”

“Fine.” Kitty said, holding up her phone to show Ilaria a text she just got. “Forced one of the pimply faced brats I hired to text me every half hour just to make sure. And I'm going back there to close. So relax, will you? It's what we came here to do. That, and buy ridiculously overpriced clothes so you can stop wearing kimonos all the time.”

Ilaria huffed, knowing Kitty was exaggerating, but not by much. Still, she had other clothes beyond her mass (huge) collection of kimonos, but Kitty regularly called them “costumes” as opposed to clothes. And as much as Ilaria hated to agree...well, her blond partner was right.

“At least they have cute pants.” Ilaria commented as she hopped off the bench and shuffled towards said cute pants. “Short shorts too!!” she grinned, picking up a pair of them before they were quickly snatched away by Kitty, who put them back down.

“None of those.” Kitty shook her head. “Last time I let you wear some skimpy outfit you almost got more customers in an hour then I did in a week back home.”

Ilaria pouted. It wasn't her fault (not really). She just wanted to feel special, and when she wore that outfit she was feeling a bit attention starved. Kitty sometimes wondered if they shouldn't switch names, as Ilaria was more like a cat (kitten) then any other human being she knew with all the attention the shorter woman wanted.

“Fine.” Ilaria stamped a foot childishly, though not caring (much) how it looked. “Kitty can pick something out then. I want to go see if they have any new video games at the store down the hall!!”

“Fine!!”

“Fine!!”

They both took a moment to cross their arms and stick their tongues out at each other before stomping off in separate directions. In truth they weren't mad at each other, not really. It was a form of affection more than anything, and Kitty knew Ilaria wouldn't go far off, or even leave the store without her.

Ilaria knew this too, and huffed, kicking a random (empty, thankfully) shoe box that was on the floor before adjusting the purse on her shoulder...just as someone ran into her, taking hold of the purse with practiced ease and attempted to run.

Attempting being the key word.

The man was bigger, but then again that wasn't saying much when you compared Ilaria to most people in the world. She was short (tiny) compared to what she felt like was ninety percent of the population of wherever she was, and the only people that were shorter were toddlers. But regardless, the man was bigger and far more muscular then the small (miniscule) Ilaria.

So when he was jerked back, wrist caught in what seemed like the vice grip from hell, he noticeably paled at the smiling face of Ilaria, who didn't even bother to open her eyes at the would be purse snatcher and merely waggled a finger in his face.

“Ara, ara...Purse Snatcher-han should know better, yes?” Ilaria's tone was rather playful before she let go of the man's wrist. “It is not nice to take what is not yours, and a woman no less.” she shook her head, tsk-ing the man. “Manners are not hard to come by. Perhaps I can teach you?”

Kitty watched the interaction from a few aisles over, sighing. This wasn't going to end well. Especially since the dick that tried to take the purse would think Ilaria was being condescending. She wasn't. She truly would have liked to teach this man manners. That girl was insufferable. And sure enough, the swing the man took was aimed right for Ilaria's head.

“Dumbass.” she whispered as Ilaria caught the man's hand in a palm with practiced ease (practiced only because Kitty forced her to take at least some self-defense lessons at the local police station), and took that moment to stick a cute top into her bags of things. Hey, no one was looking, so it was okay!!

“Ara...” Ilaria cocked her head. “Please, I do not like violence.”

Though that didn't stop her from pulling them man close and grabbing him by his belt and lifting him up a bit...and then tossing him towards the entrance of the store.

A bit too hard.

“Oops...” Ilaria blinked a moment before calling over her shoulder, knowing her partner was there, or at least not far off. “Kitty...we may need to leave.”

The pure snatcher was heading right for another man, after all, and their collision wasn't going to be pleasant.

Chase was getting a little nervous—okay, correction, he was thoroughly freaked out. This mountain of a man was angry and yelling for no reason, other than that Chase was a mutant. It made lying about being fine with the broken glasses very difficult, when the epitome of why you wore sunglasses to hide your eyes was standing right in front of you. Chase stepped back so that he was slightly behind the older girl, eyes going round at the mans very pungent distaste. He was so close to bolting. Maybe he'd even grab a coat on his way out.

The older girl had different plans, and started arguing with the man shamelessly. The boy tried to take his cue from the older, wiser person in the situation-- but, this girl didn’t seem to know any fear at all, even when faced with such a frightening.. Chase envied her, but wasn’t so envious that he had any desire to stick around.

“Come on,” Chase pleaded, as the conversation took a grimmer tone. The man was a crazy murderer, and he was cornering them. That made this ten times worse. The girl addressed Chase, tilted him a smile.

>> “Hey—run.”

Chase frowned, tugged at the girl’s sleeve as if to plead her to go with him, but she was unyielding. Chase took his cue and scampered into the maze of clothing racks, where he could slip away and not be so-easily pursued by a guy as massive as that one. He was good at running away.

He only remained in amongst the clothes until he drew closer to another aisleway. Fortunately enough, Chase had thought to poke his head out before darting out, had thought to look both ways before crossing potentially hazardous aisleways. He tweaked his hair a little bit, ruffling it with his hand as he adopted a brown color rather than a blonde—sometimes, all it took was a simple change in hair color to fool a person.

He peered out towards the fat guy, then down in the opposite direction, in which he intended on heading. He spied a girl with really long, electric-teal hair. A large man darted up, tried to snatch her bag, but the girl held on tight. She lectured him, the guy tried to hit her, and she caught the man in a wrist-lock. The girl with the bizarre hair then pulled the guy close, lifted him clear off of the ground by his belt alone and tossed him away. The guy went sailing through the air--!

--straight for Chase’s face.

Chase yelped, shrinking back into the racks and nearly falling onto his rump from recoiling so quickly. His focus broken, his hair reverted to blonde. On his hands and knees, he peered out as the immense guy zipped past, and the two, massive men collided like two bowling balls. They collided, reverberated, and came to a stop in one lardy, crumpled mess. Wow, that was really cool!

Chase’s stood up, peering towards the girl in bewilderment. She looked so demure, so incapable of hurling guys clear across stores. A shapeshifter, above anyone, should have known that things weren’t always what they seemed, but—whoa. There was just something about watching such a tiny woman toss men across rooms like paper airplanes that absolutely fascinated the eight-year-old boy.

And then there was one. The big man's eyes narrowed on the girl. She was a mutant supporter, obviously. Why else would she have risked her neck for the chump kid. Hell of a waste, really. He'd deserted her. And now, her luck would desert her, too.

"Big. Mistake." He made every word take up an entire breath, crossing his arms across his chest.

She didn't run.

They stared at each other for a second, both with arms crossed, both not backing down. She stared up at him, and he attempted to stare her down.

And then. A freaking body flew from out of nowhere and knocked him into an aisle of clothing. Wood shattered. Hangers rattled. People groaned.

Amelia glanced towards the source of the body, arching an eyebrow. "Well, that was lucky." She commented. They were looking her way. She shot them a friendly wave and smile. 'Yes yes, thank you for that. I see you', it said.

With another loud sound, something beneath the broken wood and clothing shifted. A hulking form stood up. Muscles rippled through tears in his shirt on his arms and his back. His black curled hair hung loosely over his stop sign-shaped face.

Maybe mutant-hater wasn't so human, after all. If he'd lasted through all of that...

A loud string of profanity much too coarse for the younger viewers swam through the air towards the scrawny chick who'd flung the body. It was followed by a one-fingered gesture. How rude!

Well...this was awkward.

Of course she'd get stares. She always had if she ever displayed her mutant powers, seeing how mismatched they were from how she looked (being miniscule and all). Still, she couldn't help but take a moment to roll her eyes at the situation before looking to Kitty with a (slightly) panicked expression. The blond Frenchwoman had come to Ilaria's side after the huge crash of men and now gave a low whistle at the man that was emerging from the human train wreck.

“Looks like you got your hands full now, chere.” she said, playfully hip bumping Ilaria, almost knocking the shorter woman over. “Wow, he looks mad. And did he just flip you off?” she narrowed her eyes. “How rude.”

“Yes. Well.” Ilaria really didn't know what to do in this situation. Usually, on the rare occasion she ever displayed her mutant power, whoever she was “displaying” it against was weak enough to let Kitty take care of the rest. Now? Maybe not so much. Especially since the blond didn't have her sword on her. “Perhaps Kitty and I should be going now, hm? It seems that it would be the best idea.”

“Leave? When it's getting good? Come now, love.” Kitty turned to Ilaria and bent down slightly to give the Japanese woman a slightly swat on the rump (drawing only a slight yelp from Ilaria). “Go get 'em, Tiger. He's all yours to take down. And look!!” she pointed vaguely in the direction of the crash. “Kids are involved. Bringing danger to small children...how unlike you, Pucky.”

Ilaria knew she was being baited but really couldn't help it. She spotted the pretty brunette and sighed, knowing that if she (or anyone else) got hurt, she'd feel horrible for months...possibly have nightmares about the situation. A sense of urgency hit her as the man emerged from all the clothes looking like something out of one of those horror movies she didn't like, and began to shuffle in their direction.

Walking in kimonos was hard, and being held back by your own reservations was a big factor. She wasn’t lying before, after all; she really didn't like fighting. But she'd rather be the one to get hurt then a child (or anyone else, really).

“Ara...” Ilaria began meekly as she reached the big man and little brunette girl. “Perhaps it is the wrong time to apologize for throwing Purse Snatcher-han in this direction, yes?” She tilted her head as she looked at the hulking mass of muscle that was standing in front of her, still throwing up his two fingered salute in her face.

He didn't seem to be the least bit interested in talking. The guy was beyond mad, it didn't take much to see that. The size he was, he could have been a mutant but Ilaria, who wasn't an expert in these matters, couldn't know for sure. All she knew was that he was mad, and that anger seemed to be directed at her if the middle fingers were any indication.

Oh, and the massive first headed her way.

“I see.” Ilaria sighed, catching the fist in her tiny hand (again), stopping it cold. She grasped at the hand, only managing to really to get a grip on one of the man's fingers, and twisted slightly to being the man to his knees. “Muscle-han should know not to hit ladies. It is...unbecoming. Please, no more violence? We can resolve this matter as adults. Children need not be involved.”

She looked over to the brunette with what she hoped was a comforting smile.

“Ara...is everything well? Muscle-han did not bring any harm to Panda-han, did he?” Ilaria inwardly squealed at the sight of the brunette's shirt, but didn't show any signs of it outwards (that would be odd, after all). She'd comment on it later, and ask where she got it from.

“I like the Panda shirt!!”

Damn it Ilaria...timing!! Timing!!

Those poor, felled clothing displays, crushed beneath the incredible girth of the human dominos. Chase dared to step out into the aisle, now that the man had flown past, and presumed that the worst was over. The brunette was wholly unscathed, for which Chase was grateful. She seemed nice, and it would have been tragic for her to have been crushed by two fat guys.

His relief was short-lived as the muscle-man got up, dizzied by the collision. It wasn't everyday that you got mowed over by a projectile as large as yourself, hence Chase's mild alarm. How was that man still standing? He whined and motioned for the brunette to make a break for it. He was out of the way, and this man was totally ballistic-- the girl didn't budge. His attention was elsewhere now, though-- the teal-haired girl. He yelled words that Chase had never heard, and made a gesture that was also lost on him... judging by the looks worn by the ladies, it wasn't anything nice. Chase would have to ask about what it all meant later.

If Chase were any more opportunistic, he might have slipped away and lifted a coat just then, while everyone was distracted. However, his mind didn't work like that. In the realm of eight-year-old boys, watching a blue-haired girl beat a man up was of far greater interest.

After a short discussion with her blond cohort, the girl with the neon-teal hair bustled past in her peculiar gown. Chase merely watched, and waited. He also felt inclined to suck around because this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for his iridescent eyes... He didn't want the brunette girl to get hurt.

There was a short exchange between the super-strong lady and the muscle-man, punctuated by another attempt to hit her and yet another effortless block. This is so cool, Chase breathed, biting his lip. What would she do next? Throw him to the ground, or into another innocent clothing display?

She turned and started taking to the brunette. What--? Most of the discussion was unheard by Chase, except when the girl with the teal hair squealed about the brunette's panda shirt. How anticlimactic. Girls are so weird.

Looked like the two ladies hadn't noticed her at all. Just patted (blink, patted) the smaller girl's rump.

Huh.

She supposed they might have been lovers. Her hand dropped weakly as she gave up on showing her gratitude. Amelia watched as the big guy shuffled towards the two women, one blonde, one Japanese and wearing a full-on kimono.

Amelia stayed where she was. The big man stopped as the Japanese girl met him about halfway. He was only a meter or two away. Near enough she could still hear what the two people were saying. Japanese girl tried apologizing. He wouldn't have it.

Big guy lobbed a punch at the meek-looking Japanese girl. Amelia preemptively winced. For him. Not for the girl. Because. Strong tiny girl was strong.

The fist got stopped. The guy dropped to his knees, growling. Finger twist. Ow.

The Japanese girl with the teal hair looked her way. She asked if all was well, then-- wait. What?

Panda-han? Panda-han? Had she just... called her 'hun'!? Like 'honey'? Like some sort of panda bear who liked honey (which made no sense, mind you, because panda prefer bamboo. They aren't grizzlies or black bears, and they're no Winnie the Pooh).

Amelia's cheek twitched as she tried to keep her friendly smile glued to her face. "I'm fine..." She trailed.

A second later.
>>“I like the Panda shirt!!”

"... Thanks?" Amelia couldn't help but blush. See, this shirt was the shirt she'd kissed Maya in for the very first time. And apparently... lots of girls liked it. Why am I suddenly so popular with the laaaaadies!? Amelia inwardly mourned. And...

Who did this girl with the teal hair remind her of? It only took a second. "Um." She blinked. "Hatsune Miku, is that you?"

>>"Um...Hatsune Miku, is that you?"

“Ara?” Ilaria took a moment to blink before looking over to Kitty, who simply shrugged and went about her business of stealing various clothing while all the action was still distracting people. “No, I am afraid that is not my name. My name is Ilaria Suzuki, though my friends call me Puck. A pleasure, Panda-han...though I suppose I can stop calling Panda-han by that name is she were to share her own.”

The man in Ilaria's grip tried to get up, shake loose...anything it seemed to get out of the grip he had himself in. It didn't take much for Ilaria to put him back down, simply applying just a tad bit more pressure to the finger she had a death grip on. He howled before bowing his head and falling to the floor, the only thing holding him up being Ilaria herself. She let him go, only to put a foot on his back, forcing him to the ground. She looked down at him with a wary expression.

“Muscle-han should not fight as he does. It is impolite.” she scolded, her voice sad and tiny. “Perhaps when the authorities come and take you away you shall learn your lesson. I shall inquire to where they are taking you so I can send candy. Candy fixes everything.”

Looking up, the teal haired girl clapped her hands in the prayer position and tilted her head again, looking to Panda Girl with a serene expression.

“Ara, ara...Panda-han must tell me where she got that shirt.” she cooed, acting as if she wasn't keeping a man that was three times her size down with one foot. “It is absolutely adorable. And now I know it comes in my size. Though maybe mine should be a bit larger in the chest area, hm?” She looked down and nodded. “Yes.”

Behind her, Kitty groaned and face palmed. Yeah, no one ever accused Puck of having tact.

Chase continued his spectating as the neon teal-haired girl and the brunette continued conversing, his interest in their interaction gradually lessening. He was, however, absolutely certain that girls were very bizarre creatures, indeed. He huffed as they went right on chattering, believing the action to be over. His overactive eight-year-old mind had been hoping for something as equally-awesome as hurling mountainous men into clothing displays. Teal-Haired Lady simply set the man back down, and held him down with a foot. Victory, Teal-Haired Lady.

Now that the guy was securely wedged under Teal-Haired Lady's foot, Chase scurried away from his vantage point, past the felled Giant and his petite conquerer, and positioned himself at Brunette Lady's side. He was going to give his thanks for not letting Muscles crush him to death for his freaky eyes, and then leave before too many people turned up. That simple. He watched as Teal-Haired Lady lectured Muscles, and then promised to send him candy in jail. Which, was a pretty cool deal, if the man didn't have to go to jail to get the candy in the first place.

Chase opened his mouth to thank them, but Teal-Haired Lady was quicker to speak. In an instant, the conversation returned to Brunette Lady's shirt, and the store from which it was bought. Girls and their clothes! Chase was very patient and very polite about the whole ordeal, not even blinking at the comment about Brunette Lady's bust. Chase wasn't in-tuned to those sort of implications in the least. His gaze flicked toward Brunette Lady, since the two of them were still discussing. He would wait until they were done.