4520/Clothes shopping for childhood trauma

Clothes shopping for childhood trauma
Date of Scene:	28 May 2018
Location:	The Mall
Synopsis:	Lyssa and Drake Riley shop for clothes and discuss tragic pasts.
Cast of Characters:	Volt, Breath

---

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley's first visit to the mall resulted in little to nothing being bought. While there've been some drab, unimpressive garments made available to him, it just feels foreign and weird to wear them - like hand-me-downs from a dad or something. It's just not comfortable. No, only things that he chooses, himself, will make things right.

Which brings us back to the mall of Salem Center, bustling as ever. With it being Saturday, Drake has nothing to really do today. And thankfully, he passes easily as a regular human. Granted, his clothing makes him look very unkempt - clean, to be sure, but unkempt. His first and only objective lies in the clothing store he's presently browsing. It's a trendy outlet, offering a wide variety of name brand garments. Not something he normally would've gone for, but he's playing with "house money", as it were. Why not indulge?

The teen is currently standing in front of a rack of button-ups, sifting through them by color. His eyes are slightly narrowed, lips pursed. Clothes shopping is serious business and requires concentration.

Breath has posed:
Lyssa was running low on clothes, and has been informed that thrift store will not do for an employee at Stark who might occasionally have to show people a powerpoint presentation. So here she is, poking around looking for clothes, always kind of difficult. At the moment, she's facing away from you - and as such is at much higher risk of being seen as a *guy* picking through skirts and blouses. Such is the curse of having wide shoulders. And of course, after this she has to hope whoever is at the changing rooms isn't under-payed, over-observant, and back-wards.

She hmmms, comparing some colors quietly.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley rifles through the hangers before finding a nice, pristine white button-up. It's loose, drapey, and generally perfect for an overshirt. He turns around to continue perusing, only to almost run into- what, a dude checking out skirts? It gives him pause, brow knitting in temporary confusion before pragmatism sets in. None of his business what someone does! Unless something he sees as sinister is afoot, he's solidly in the 'don't get involved' camp. After all, he /is/ from Los Angeles.

He did almost bump into the individual, though. So it warrants a, "Sorry!"

Breath has posed:
Lyssa blinks and spins at the sudden noise, a bit faster than most people might. A bit jumpy on account of, you know, superpowered armored assassins and stuff like that. Oh! It was just somebody being polite. This side looks a lot more femme. She blinks and smiles politely, "It's okay, no harm done!" She bites her lip a bit, embarrassed to be quite so jumpy in public, ugh, and gives you a quick once over with her eyes, forcing her muscles to relax again. No gasp of breath or anything, at least.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley is all but the image of pragmatism when the broad-shouldered individual turns and has notably more feminine features frontways. There's just a bit of a squint that takes place - a moment, is all it is. But then the gaze relaxes again. "Well, sorry all the same. They've got these stands all smooshed together," he mentions with a step aside and indicative motioning between them.

Breath has posed:
Lyssa ums..... "Yeah... They don't really like to have, yanno. Actual floor. It's stupid." She drapes a long skirt over her arm and considers your clothes.

"School uniform?" She tilts her head a bit, because she thinks she remembers seeing a few garments like that somewhere she didn't end up going to.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley looks down at his rumpled, disheveled hoodie, then back to her. "Mm'no. This is just my street clothes. I've had'em forever," (read: wore them every day for the past few weeks), "and it's time for a change. So I'm here!"

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods. "'Kay. How's that going?" She hmms. "And, like.. What are you gonna be doing in 'em? I mean, like.. You look like you're totally moving up on 'em, right?" She tilts her head. "Iunno though, I mean, like.. I don't pay attention to guy fashion or anything." Awkward pause. "Um."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley's head turns just a hint at the last thing she says, but he doesn't pursue it. No, no. He's not chasing that tangent. There's a difference between teasing and being hurtful by simply not thinking ahead. He reserves his sass for easier situations or people who are giving him a hard time. Not random people he runs into in a store.

The white button-up is lifted. "Slowly," he reports. "And I'm gonna be doing life-stuff in'em. I'm trying just to, like, expand my wardrobe. So I'm probably gonna grab some shorts, tees, uh.."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods, "Got it! Coolness. Um. I get to see if I can try this stuff on. Y'know, without me having to be a jerk to someone or anything. I mean, like, I could just abuse my work contacts, but like, that always bites. Maybe I can grab one of the girls in the office next time? Iunno, they're still being silly about that one time, but whatever." She ohs, "Sorry, like.. lots of stuff on my mind right now. Sometimes it sorta, yanno. Spills out? Um."

She offers a hand lightly, "I'm Lyssa. Sorry for being a total space cadet here." She's just trying to figure out how to deal with a freaking fight to the death with an armored ninja who can fight Robin to a draw, after all. And apologize to royalty underwater. She's been thinking about it during this very conversation in fact. Clothes shopping less distracting than hoped. No pressure!

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley's head slowly tiiiilts to the side as she talks, his stare a mile long and going the distance. "Ah.. you don't say," he offers awkwardly. The raised button-up is slowly lowered to his side. "You good? You seem sort've... wired. What's up? And what happened 'that one time'?" Beat. "Name's Drake, by the way. Sorry, kind'a drowned in the information."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa ohs, "Hi Drake! I'm Lyssa. Um. So like, I have a friend that's a corporate big wig, and like.. i'm a nobody lab tech. He got bored and phoned me and a couple other friends up for lunch, and like.. my boss went full matchmaker and did all my makeup and stuff because she thought we were a Thing. She still asks me how we are doing. Ummm.. Iunno, maybe a little. I've got stuff on my mind that's totally chewing on my chill, right? I mean, like, nothing you can help with, but you know." She frowns a little and debates on ways to frame her problems in a more civilian-friendly sort of way. "Like.. stalker trouble. I guess. Iunno, I mean, I can handle it."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley may look relatively homeless and pitiful, given the state of his current wardrobe, but he's an attentive listener. Those vivid greens remain affixed to her through the entirety of her kind-of-explanation, processing what he can. And at last, he submits the most practical solution he can afford: "Got mace? Mace helps, probably."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa ohs, "Well, like, no mace. Girls don't get pockets, yanno. And like, I only have so much room in the front of my shirt. But like, I've been going to a boxing gym since like.. middle school.. and stuff like that. This crazy is really prepared though. So it's like.. Paranoid city. Iunno, do you have to deal with anything like that?" She bites her lip and tilts her head, putting her toe behind her ankle nervously.

Volt has posed:
"My trouble usually comes at me from the front," posits Drake. He glances down to her feet, gives a weak, but bemused grin, then back up to her face. "When someone's playing the unpredictable game, but unpredictable right back. If they're sure you're gonna try to hit'em, fake'em out - have your friend come in from downtown. If he sees you walk into a building and you know he's following right behind you, shut the door, wait five seconds, then slam it open on'es face. Be creative. You do enough of that, and I bet that weirdo looks for an easier fish to catch."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods, "Yeah, that's totally the plan, just like, you know. Expecting weird military type stuff. We don't even know who they are. And like.. lucky you." She frowns. "What's your thing that you deal with this stuff?" She studies you quietly.

Volt has posed:
"Wait, what? Military?," asks Drake. "What sort of stalker do you /have/?" He's a runaway, himself. But he's not a runaway from an army base. Or an experimentation lab. Or whatever has an army person following her, from the sounds of it. But the redirect onto him takes him back. "Oh. You know. Street toughs or whatever. Punks who wanna front. Nothing major."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa deadpans, "A very well trained one." She nods and listens. "You spent a lot of time on the street? I know a lot of people who got kicked out of their homes.." She frowns some. "I help them out where I can. I mean, I've been a little busy lately.." She frowns guiltily. "Maybe I can get to that more when I'm not in school for the summer."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley bristles a little at the mention of being kicked out. An observant sort might catch that that's indeed what happened. But he doesn't confirm it. He just moves right along and tries to switch the focus.

"Where'd this stalker of yours come from, anyway?," he asks as he starts to glance back at the rack of shirts behind him. His free hand scoots through a couple more selections, sparing them a glance but keeping his gaze mostly on the other person.

Breath has posed:
Lyssa shrugs a little. "Iunno, like.. it used to be a friend of mine's stalker, but like.. they're not just going after them anymore. I think those two have history but like.. I can't get a word out of them."

Lyssa noticed the bristle, but figured she would leave it sit for a little bit. She glances at the shirts you're looking at, then casually asks, "What size do you wear?" She reaches over and pulls a shirt halfway out, then holds the sleeve up. "This color might look good on you."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley drawls, "Mmmmaaayyybe," introspectively. He continues sifting through things, pausing on a bright vermillion shirt with brown bamboo chutes artistically added. But make no mistake, this qualifies as a Hawaiian overshirt. "Sounds like this friend of yours isn't doing you right. If you've got a legit stalker with military training or something, they need to be up-front with you. It ain't even a friend-thing; it's a safety-thing."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods, "Oh yeah, totally. But like, they don't talk about some stuff. Like, I feel like if I ask, they'll break down crying, and then they'd freak out and it would be like ten times worse. Oh no dude, that pattern would open doors for you in the wrong way. Like, 'I don't know who that kid was, all I can remember is that shirt.' Yanno? I mean, the color is nice, but like.. no. But yeah, I'll bug them again." She hmmms, pulling out another shirt that's not quite so loudly patterned, "This would look nice."

Volt has posed:
"Guess we don't want a freakout. But we don't want a kidnapped Lyssa, either," Drake posits. His lips purse at the next selection she finds, and in short order, an eyebrow perks. The pattern is more subtle, a leafy canopy style set in shades of green. It's still a Hawaiian shirt, but it's more subdued and functional. "That's not bad. Probably sort'a matches my eyes, maybe." He reaches for it.

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods, "Oh, totally, that's what I was looking for." She hands the shirt over. "So what freaked your 'rents out? Boyfriend? Glowing eyes? Haircut? Something else? Mine didn't throw me out, but like.. I might as well have been sometimes. He didn't really want a daughter." She looks through some more tops and pulls out sleeves on a couple more of similar colors that might work well.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley bristles again, but this time doesn't outright try to change the topic. "Geeze," he says, a bit breathless. "Comin' in hot, aren't'cha? That's not exactly something I'm thrilled to talk about!" He's not angry, but he's certainly put off. His miserable life story isn't something he enjoys sharing - it's not impressive, it's not endearing, it's pitiful. He hates pity.

Drake turns a little more towards the clothes, but he's not really looking at them anymore. His gaze is there, but his focus isn't. "It's not worth talking about. What's done is done, life's changed for me. Like yours has, I'm sure."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods. "Oh, totally. Iunno, just like.. There's some people I want to throttle today. It totally wouldn't help, but, yanno. I still want to. Like whoever broke my friend. I'm sorry, I'm being a total jerk. Try that on and I'll get you some ice cream or something." She frowns and looks down embarrassedly.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley eyeshifts sidelong to her, brow knit. "You've gotta relax. Look, if McStalkerson comes by, let me know. I'll throatpunch'em. But if he doesn't, just take this time to breathe." He pauses, then decides that's exactly what's necessary here. He turns to face her directly, ignoring her urging to try on clothes or the chance at icecream afterwards. "Really. Look at me. C'mon," he encourages. And then, with a vague motion of his free hand, "Inhale."

...

"Exhale."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa sighs. Her shoulders rise, then fall, with some air going in, then out. "...Okay..."

Lyssa sighs some. "I know, I just need to relax. That's why I came here in the first place. I guess it isn't working, is it?" She makes a face. "I should probably just go and like, get a workout in or something. Maybe that would help." She bites her lip a bit.

Volt has posed:
"That helps me. Like, running and stuff. But," Drake raises his index finger, "it's not gonna do you any good if your head's still spinning. So again." He motions vaguely. "Inhale. Exhale. One more time. Aaand what was your favorite show growing up?"

Breath has posed:
Lyssa humors you, bringing her shoulders up, then down with a bit of air going in and out. It doesn't help because like.. it's not really a breath that moves the needle, but it's something. "I got into Living Dead Girl in high school. It bugged the crap out of my dad, but like, who cares? He was hoping I would watch sports or something. At a certain point I really didn't give a damn. And mom had more or less bailed by then. You?"

Volt has posed:
"I.. don't.. actually know what that is," Drake admits. He begins moving to another rack of clothing, expecting her to follow along. "Tell me about it. Only Living Dead Girl I can think of is a Rob Zombie song from like the nineties or something." The assortment he stops at now is an arrangement of pants. He seems to gravitate towards cargos. "Tell me about your show, then I'll tell ya mine."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa ohs, "It wasn't all that big, but I liked it. Unpopular girl gets murdered and comes back as a vampire. Kinda more zombie than vampire if you ask me, but like, she has to drink blood and use a lot of sunblock and has a couple of weird things she can do, and like, being dead made her hotter because, yanno. Vampire. Go figure. Nobody knows who killed her, not even her. So she goes around trying to figure it out while she's doing all the usual teenage girl stuff. There was a couple seasons, then it got canned. Sucked. But there's still a bunch of fan stuff." She watches what you pick out. Nothing too hideous to avoid here.

Volt has posed:
It's difficult to go wrong with pants. They have to be truly 'out there'. And it seems Drake's inclinations aren't so outlandish in legwear. He starts sorting through sizes, apparently satisfied with the style of black cargos. "I never really got that. I mean, did you ever see those Twilight movies?," he asks, glancing over his shoulder. "My mom made me watch'em."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa mmms, "Nah, I mean.. I already knew what a bad relationship looked like, and it was just way too many red flags for me." She frowns some. "Iunno, stuff like tht is just sort of messed up when you watch people actually doing it and getting the bad endings."

Volt has posed:
"My mom thought it was the bees' knees," says Drake. He finally finds a pair that appear to be his size. He drapes them over the arm supporting the button-ups. "The cat's meow," he continues as he circles the rack. "The.. king's.. pajamas?" He spares her another look, as if she might contribute to the analogy. But his eyes lower again, settling on an assortment of white slacks. He glances to the button-up, then back, and begins rifling through them. "Anyway, that wasn't really what I was expecting! I thought you'd say, like, Spongebob."

Sift. Sift.

"/Everyone/ loved Spongebob."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa does a one shoulder shrug. "Maybe when I was like, tiny, iunno." She looks over, takes a couple steps, and starts picking through bras. Sooo hard to find the right size. Must search everywhere! Gotta catch 'em all! "Star was nice, but I haven't watched it in like.. years. I barely even remember it. But I barely even remember Spongebob." She straightens her hair a bit.

Volt has posed:
"Star?," asks Drake, lifting his gaze again in time to catch her looking through bras. He quickly looks back down to the pants. For some reason, it feels improper to've seen that. He realizes it's a store, and these things happen, but it can't be helped! He seems to find a proper pair, and drapes it along with the black cargos. "I get the feeling you'n I ran in waaay different t.v. circles."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods and picks through sizes, going from rack to rack quickly because there's just a lot of different sizes to choose from and it's just the one that works. She doesn't care because it's, you know. Clothes. Covering a boring piece of anatomy that's just kind of there.

Lyssa nods, listening. "Probably. I mean, most guys don't watch the stuff I like." Hah! They have one! Which may or may not actually fit, but at least it's the right size. She drapes it over her arm and keeps checking the rest of the rack.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley steals another furtive glance, then quickly goes back to sorting out his own wardrobe. "I.. need.. to get something to swim in. They have a pool at this place I'm living at now," he mentions. But he doesn't up and bail Lyssa. That'd be rude, and also not at all conducive to what he's trying to accomplish on the side here. "I thought old stuff was pretty funny. You can only get it on, like, Youtube or streaming stuff, but still. Old stuff is great."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods, grabbing the one other bra of the right approximate size and wandering back. "Well sure. But like, there's so much of it. Anyways, I didn't want to hang around the house. It was easier when I could get over to the boxing gym or practice. The guys on the wrestling team were cool with me being the token chick. Where are you staying now?" She glances over and grabs a pack of panties too, since that's pretty straightforward and right next to her.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley noticed. Like the bra situation, he makes every effort to not notice or pay it any mind. Awkward.

Now that she seems to've settled on her unmentionables, he makes his way towards the thankfully-seasonal swimming section. "Boxing /and/ wrestling, huh? Pretty physical," he notes. "You, uh..." He glances to her briefly, then seems to just roll the dice. "..You ever heard of the Xavier Institute?"

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods, "Yeah, I got a physical from Dr. McCoy once or twice. They didn't offer any college classes though." She idly picks through socks and picks some out. "I got picked on a lot when I was younger. Red state, yanno. And like, dad couldn't get too mad at me if I was in sports and stuff because like, that's.."

She turns to you and airquotes icily, "MANLY stuff. Puts hair on your chest!" She rolls her eyes HARD. "Ugh."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley looks at her briefly, letting her vent with naught but a supportive ear. Afterwards, he bobs his head and looks back to the assortment of colorful garments. "Parents get it in their head how you're supposed to be. Then when you do something else, 'bzzt', 'pfft'." He pantomimes with his free hand, indicating smoke coming from the top of his head. "Mine were the same way."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods. "Totally. I mean, like, sure, their expectations get thrown totally silly but, yanno. Adapt. It's not MY fault I wasn't who you wanted. I didn't even mention the school trip. Seriously it just never came up. I don't even talk to Dad now. He's still too weird at me, so I can't be bothered." She aranges various clothes on her arm and hmmms.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley is just a dude from California. He doesn't claim to be a psychologist, nor therapist, nor any kind of '-ist'. But he'd venture to say he's a people person, and some folks give off certain cues. And to him, it's sounding like this Lyssa person is bringing up certain things for a desire to talk about them. Given how flustered she seemed to be before, talking about these things might help. It's all he's got to go on, but he'll go with it.

"School trip, huh?," he verbally prods, pausing to turn to face her.

Breath has posed:
Lyssa mmmhms. "To your school. I didn't think it would help any. He already barely talks to me anyways. How did you end up there?"

Volt has posed:
"Ohhh...," drawls Drake with a small nod. He shifts through a few pairs, seeming to approch the considerably more bland section. He's not into that, it seems, as he orbits the rack to get back to the good stuff. "You really wanna know? It's not a happy story. I think most people who get mixed up with the school have something similar."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa hmmmms. "Well, let me guess then. Not from my story, because that WASN'T what happenned to ME. But I can sort of make some assumptions."

She hmms. "You were a happy kid, then one day you were listening to rock music and you exploded the whole room with loud noise and explosions, and your parents freaked out and told you they didn't want to see you again. So you rode on a bus and got picked up by somebody with a form fitting bodysuit and they told you to go to the school where everything would be happily ever after. Now you're trying to get some new clothes so you can act normal."

She tilts her head at you. "How close was I?"

Volt has posed:
"Eehhh," is the wishy-washy noise Drake responds with. He pulls a pair of bright crimson trunks with orangey-gold flames on the legs. "I found out I was different at a bad time, when someone was comin' at me. They had a knife. I had superpowers." He glances to her again warily, then back to the trunks. They're placed back on the rack. "I kept it a secret for a long time, trying to get a handle on it. Then I told my dad about it. He told me I.. uh.. wasn't allowed.. to be different." That's not exactly how it was worded, but he captured the spirit of the conversation, at least. "I went to step out, he told me not to come back. So you were right there."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods. "That makes sense. Pretty typical, I guess. I left on my own. A bunch of the people I know got thrown out for the same reason. Well, more or less." She hmms, ignoring the trunks for now.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley continues circling the rack. "Well, I came to New York to find other people like me. Wasn't the, uh.. smoothest idea ever, but it worked. I got found. And now I'm with them." That's leaving out some considerable details, but some things are best left unmentioned. He's trying to move past it, after all. He plucks a pair of sapphire blue trunks with black tribal markings. "Eh, these are cool.."

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods and touches behind her ear. "Ohh.. I'm needing to go. There's news on that stalker. Ring me up or something?" She considers the stack of clothes and carries it up to a counter. "Hey, I need to go suddenly." She wanders back. "You going to be okay there?"

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley gives her his full attention at the sudden change in tenor, eyes widened. "Oh, yeah, sure. No problem. I hope you're feeling a little better, though!" That was the point of getting her talking about other things in more depth than mere mentions. Verbal sneakage. "And don't worry about me, I'm good. You go do you!"

Breath has posed:
Lyssa nods and thumbs up. "Great." She flicks a business card at you. "Outtie, dude. Ring me up some time."

Then she speed walks out of the store and down to the parking lot to find a place to do the 'up up and away' thing.