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Surely the curly haired competitor was a talented individual. Somehow he managed to finish his pie filling, continue his friendly conversation with the blind man next door, and glare at Sebastian with deep suspicion in his eyes. Maybe this man was the girl's father. That would explain the dirty looks and the girls' lack of other guardians. The man really needed to learn to keep a better eye on her if that was true. Someone easily could have absconded with her by now. If he really had been a cop, like he had claimed a moment ago, he should know what horrors were out there in the world waiting to take advantage of young children. It's not like child molesters were a new trend.

And black coffee? Really? Black coffee was so 1599.

Now the young child had noticed all the stares and glares on her account and turned to face Sebastian. The look in her eye was one of wonder and fascination, or so it seemed to him. It was a little strange, since that was not the type of look he was used to getting from strangers; Detective Black Coffee had the usual look about right.

And the girl was definitely familiar, which made her being the daughter of the glaring pie chef even more strange, because Sebastian had certainly never seen his handsome scowl before. Sebastian was unsure of exactly what he should do. Talking to the girl would be very awkward. Talking to the ex-cop turned apron boy would be awkward. Leaving seemed to be the best possibility. At least now the deadbeat father(?) would be paying attention now.

Sebastian turned and wandered toward someone else's, anyone else's, booth. He walked past the blind chef who had missed out on the whole triangle of awkward glances. Lucky him.

One thing Sebastian had a difficult time getting used to living in a modern country was the fact that everyone wore a different set of clothing every day. Every time he walked past Lisa, for example, she was wearing a differently color, differently textured, or differently cut suit with a different silk scarf tied around her neck. Sebastian supposed she could be recycling them and returning to ones she had already worn after a few weeks, but he couldn't keep track of all of the secretary's scarves. It seemed a bit excessive to own fourteen or more different outfits, but it wasn't just the secretary that owned so many different sets of clothing. It was everyone.

Everyone in the whole culture seemed to change their outfits every single day, except Sebastian. He had thought he owned a lot of clothes with with his two suits, two short sleeved shirts, a pair of denim pants, and a long wool winter coat. That is, until he realized that middle school girls could purchase enough clothing to stock two of his wardrobes in a single shopping trip. It made the unicorn man feel a little left out, so he had decided it was time to add to his own wardrobe.

That particular morning had been cold, so the unicorn man had gone out, not only with his wool coat on, but with his car. He had seen a fabric store while he was wandering around the city looking for a grocery shop one day. He hadn't gone in at the time, but had noted it's location. It would be quite a long walk, especially if he was planning on carrying a large amount of fabric home with him.

Sebastian had arrived early, and found a parking spot one the street from a book store next to a book store, just a few doors down from the fabric store. He had inserted coins into the parking meter like he had seen other people do on previous outings. When he arrived, the streets had been relatively empty. One man had given him a particularly ugly look as Sebastian entered the door to the fabric outlet, but he dismissed it as a relatively normal anti-mutant kind of stare. With a horn on his head, those kinds of looks were not entirely uncommon.

The fabric store was immense. It was more of a warehouse than a store. Tall metal shelves were stacked high with bolts of cloth organized first by fabric type, then by color. The unicorn man walked past rainbow upon rainbow of silk, taffeta, flannel, linen, cotton, velvet, acrylic, merino, cashmere, angora, and even thick upholstery fabric. He stopped first at the merino section and browsed through herringbone, houndstooth, and twill patterns, looking for a likely candidate for his own next outfit. Then he's have to see if they had any patterns. His own were getting rather rumpled- not to mention out of date. While suits were always in style, certain cuts were not.

Hours later, he had accumulated several yards of different colored and textured fabrics with coordinating threads, a new set of sewing needles, a shiny new pair of sewing scissors, several patterns, and the phone number of the young girl who had advised him on fashionable suit styles. All in all a good day. With arms laden, he walked out of the store and into sheer chaos.

It seemed a lot had happened since he had entered the fabric store. There were people running around every which direction, clearly panicked. Lights from cop cars were flashing, and the cops themselves were starting to pull themselves together from whatever panic they had been experiencing. They were starting to rally and find cover behind parked cars. Their guns were generally pointed at the front of a fairly nondescript book store called Full Circle Books, the front window had already been broken. On the ground were protest signs splattered in bright red. The sidewalkes were also splattered, and several empty paint cans lay testament to where that red had come from. It did not explain the deeper red that pooled around the prone form of a man on the sidewalk. Holy Hera! What had happened here?

Sebastian dropped his shopping bags and rushed to the man's side, kneel to check his pulse and completely oblivious to the reactions New York's finest would have to his doing so. The man still had a pulse, which meant he could still be saved, despite the deep wound that was dangerously close to his kidney. Sebastian touched the skin near the wound and instantly felt a shock of cold sparks that had nothing to do with the weather spread from his arm all the way down to his finger tips. He caught sight of a sign next to the man that said “Mutants go back to hell, or we'll send you there ourselves”. That could explain what had happened here. Within seconds the wound was knitting itself back together again and Sebastian was up and looking around before the man had quite regained consciousness.

Were there others that needed healing? He looked around and glanced through the broken shop window, but before he could do anything, another gun shot rang out. Apparently the police didn't take kindly to another mutant showing up. In all likelihood, they would probably assume that the brawl had been caused by mutants attacking the anti-mutant protesters. Sebastian vaulted through the window, not sure where that bullet had actually gone.

The shopkeeper allowed Sebastian to browse throughout the store, but remained close enough at hand in case he was needed. The unicorn man wandered along the entire edge of the store, taking note of where the tastiest salad ingredients were located. He stopped to admire the clover in particular. They grew thickly in their pot, healthy and perhaps in need of thinning. It was quite likely that he could purchase the plant and just thin it out once in awhile in order to garnish dinners. Clover grew very quickly, so it could easily replenish itself. He'd definitely have to get some of the clover, but what else?

Near the clover was another variety of leafy plant Sebastian had seen growing in Asia. He didn't remember what it was called, but if his memory was correct, it tasted delicious. He reached out to adjust the tag that was sticking out of the dirt so he could read it. Cryptotaenia japonica; japanese wild parsley. A small picture of a blackened out sun indicated that the plant grew best in the shade. He couldn't remember if he'd ever tasted this plant before, so he broke off one of the older leaves and stuck it in his mouth, chewing carefully.

It had a refreshing, clean taste with just a hint of bitterness. It was definitely a familiar flavor, one that would add some taste to his dinner that evening. It was also one that brought back memories of ancient days when he tilled his own crops in the country of the rising sun and made offerings at the local shinto shrine for good luck and bountiful harvests.

Pissy Mare Syndrome, sometimes abbreviated, was an affliction that commonly affected female equines and humans alike. Generally when females displayed signs of such an affliction, it was best to leave them to their own devices; to rage or grump as they liked without affecting others.

Although the centaur woman uttered such sentences as,
>>>"Swimming. Swiiimmmmiiiinnnnng. Swimming. It kinda' rolls off the tongue, don't it"
most of her words carried a hint of anger in them.

Even her actions were angry. For instance, after removing the bow from her hands, the unicorn found himself with an arrow poking uncomfortably behind his ear. Angry, then, was she?

>>>She tapped it lightly, whispering "Woah, woah there son. What exactly are you planning to do, eh? Stab me with that nasty horn of yours. Don't. Gonna bite me? Don't. Gonna kick me? Don't.

He wouldn't dream of doing any of those things. He didn't really want to pick a fight with her. She was technically his neighbor, and it would make things rather awkward if they were to become enemies.

>>>Just step off of my bow, and leave before I decide that maybe you are a threat to my life. I ain't no evil demon, but I don't take chances, and I don't mess around."

Sebastian snorted indignantly. That wasn't a bad idea. The blonde girl, too, saw the wisdom of a retreat and had already started sprinting towards the water.

Since he didn't particularly relish the idea of spending the next few hours healing from a bleeding head wound, the unicorn stepped off the bowstring very slowly. Very slowly he backed away, constantly watching to make sure his fellow quadruped didn't decide to attack their already fleeing blonde acquaintance or send an arrow flying in his direction. If she made sudden movements, he would be ready to spring into action, in interfere once again in the targeting of the helpless woman or to dodge incoming attacks should the centauride decide to carry through with her threats of violence. As soon as he judged that the bipedal woman had escaped safely, he too would be dashing off to relative safety.

>>>"What's your problem then, eh? What are you anyways, some kind of mutated goat-horse?"

Yes, as a matter of fact, he was. What was she, some kind of mutated human-horse?

>>>"If you were born in my herd, you'd have to be let go for sure... Might even be some sort of disease."

Although that comment was muttered rather quietly, the unicorn was close enough to hear it. The unicorn snorted in response. It was much more likely that she would have been the one born into his herd than the other way around. In fact, it was possible that she was one of his descendants. He didn't usually keep track of his descendants, human or horse, once they were more than three generations removed from himself, so it was perfectly possible. He tilted his head slightly and searched her face for any familiar features, but could identify none. If she did carry any of his blood, it was most likely very diluted by now.

"So, what's your name, huh? And why were you here?"

Clearly she needed to be taught some manners. It would never do to have this woman leave such a negative impression of equus mutants. She may be half beast, but that was no excuse for her to act so beastly. The unicorn stomped his foot impatiently. If he could talk right now, she would get a rather harsh scolding. As it was, he might start thinking of an admonishment to deliver once they were both back at the Sanctuary.

"As far as I was concerned, Beaches belonged to anyone who wanted to go swimming."

The unicorn did not miss the step forward that put the young blonde woman within an arms reach of his hide. A subtle weight shift and a sideways step brought him just outside of her reach once again. Just because he was trying to protect her did not mean that he would trust her just yet. Aside from appearing suddenly, he still had no idea what she was capable of doing, and since she had readily admitted to being a mutant, he knew she could do something. If that something was triggered through touch, he'd rather not be so close, thank you.

"What were you doing here?"

There was an unwise sneer in young woman's voice. Unwise because she had stepped forward and her unicorn shield had stepped sideways. Furthermore, that bow was still up and ready for action and the tension in the bowstring had lessened no more than the tension in the conversation. While he could do nothing about the conversation in his current form, he could take care of that other issue. With a swift flick of his head, his horn caught the edge of the bow. His goal was to knock it out of the centauride's grasp. He hoped that both the arrow and the bow would fall harmlessly to the ground. If he was successful, he would step on the string in order to render it impossible for her to pick it up again. He would, however, refrain from actually breaking the bow, as that might make the temperamental mare-woman a little upset.

Maybe centaurs ate humans. After all, according to the old stories, the centaurs had been flesh eaters. Being half wild beast and half human put the centaurs of legend in a sticky predicament. They were intelligent, but they were not in control of their instincts. Hylonme seemed to embody a dichotomy of natures parallel to that of the mythological creatures whom she so resembled physically.

The unicorn was sure the tall hoofed mutant wouldn't really shoot the blonde. Certainly the centauride had spent time in the wild and might be a bit jumpy, but certainly not a murderer. She was just talking tough because she had been frightened. Sebastian resorted to flight, and Hylonme to fight.

>>>"I was thinking both of you were like me. Both of you had Abilities, super abilities, if you want it that way." ... "But, I won't obey you, I'm not you're slave."

The unicorn snorted. He wouldn't have taunted a string happy huntress with an arrow pointed right at his chest if he were her. If he were himself he would maybe taunt a Hunter, but only in rare circumstances in which he was trying to protect someone in need pf protection. He was a healer, after all, and was fairly well equipped to survive a bow shot, even if it would be rather uncomfortable.

And yeah, he should probably go stand between the girl and the horse girl. It wouldn't do to just sit by and watch someone get shot.

A white form reappeared from behind the sand dune and trotted back the the flat part of the beach once again. Deliberately he stood between the two females and purposely made eye contact with the taller equine. Don't even think about shooting, his gaze read. It was interesting to note that he felt more brave facing an arrow that was definitely pointing at and through him, than when faced with the spent arrow already in the sand and the uncertainty of whom that arrow had been pointed at.