44

Chapter Text

THUR MAR 3

When we made it back to the PRT headquarters, Vicky and I were escorted deeper into the building and split off into different rooms. They looked closer to small conference suites than interrogation rooms, but that was obviously what we were here for. Agents had come to talk to her almost immediately, and fifteen minutes later she'd been released. I thought they'd come talk to me after that, but I was left to stew even longer. I figured it was a petty punishment, but I wasn't nearly as bored as they likely expected.

About twenty-three minutes after I'd sat down, I was surprised that Armsmaster himself came to talk with me. I'd known he was in the building, but expected to wind up talking to agents.

"Terraform." He gruffly greeted.

"Armsmaster. I hadn't known you were back." And I really hadn't, before sensing him here.

He took up a position opposite me, not bothering with a chair as he considered the small-talk. "There was only so much I could have handled better than most other Tinkers. A local problem I'm not at liberty to discuss had me back earlier than expected. I've been using the time to catch up on a few projects, but mostly I've been on-call for whatever kicks off the Truce breaking down." His stance shifted, and it felt like he was actively looming now. "But we're not here to discuss me. We're here to talk about you."

There wasn't much they could actually do to me directly coming to mind, but there were ways they could make my life difficult. The words and implications had more weight coming from a hero I admired, too. I gulped and nodded. "Yes, sir."

He nodded at my contrite tone. "Officially, I just spent the last ten minutes reprimanding you for endangering two Wards." Wait, we were skipping over that? It might have been special treatment, but I was incredibly cool with it. I'd take twenty minutes sitting around essentially in time out over ten minutes of yelling any day. The fact that it gave him more time to run maintenance on his bike down in the garage before beelining up here to talk to me probably had something to do with it. "That said, the altercation with Oni Lee put all of your lives at risk, and there will be a black mark in your file about it. It will take some time before the PRT will trust you with our Wards again. Director Piggot was particularly disappointed, given your recent track record." I couldn't help but bristle at that, glancing down and away and absolutely not sulking about it. "Off the record," He continued, without the hard edge to his tone. "you engaged two of the most dangerous capes in the city and walked away with no casualties- civilian or otherwise, and minimal collateral damage. A very impressive feat."

I looked up at him, almost gaping, before I cleared my throat and tamped down my inner fangirl. "Thank you, sir."

"We still need a verbal report on what happened." He paused long enough to set an oddly normal-looking digital recorder on the table, hitting a button and causing a light on it to start blinking. "If you wouldn't mind, we'll start at the beginning. You broke off from the patrol. Why?"

It took a second to put the story right in my head. "I got a message that Lung was at the Market, from someone I trust to have accurate information. I'd already told the PRT that he was likely to be doing something today, I just didn't know for sure what that would be until then."

"Miss Militia passed that information on, yes. It's why I was here instead of Protectorate HQ, to facilitate faster deployment." Huh. I hadn't noticed him here at the start of the patrol. Was he still in transit, or just not wearing his armor at the time? "Perhaps fortunately, combat did not last long enough for me to sortie and assist in time."

I couldn't help it. "So you suited up, set out, heard the fight was over, and beat us back?"

"Accurate." He stated in a nonplussed deadpan. I gave a nervous chuckle that my needling had been taken poorly. His response was to take a deep breath and continue like I hadn't said anything. "This information, both the warning you gave and the message during the patrol, it came from a member of your team, or an informant?"

This was the question I was worried about. "No comment."

He stared at me for a few seconds while I did my best not to fidget. I just hoped it didn't sound as stupid on the recording as it had to Armsmaster and myself. After far too long a pause to sound reasonable on the recording, he shook his head and pressed on. "You traveled at speed to Lord's Market and confronted Lung. Why?"

"What other option did I have?"

"There are two other reasonable courses of action you could have taken. First; as he is a known and dangerous criminal, you could have attacked without warning. Usually I would insist that this would be a monumentally stupid thing to do, but given what happened you could have done exactly as you had, except with a chance for complete surprise."

I mulled it over, wondering if I should bother defending my decision to have him move. "And the other?"

"Lung did not appear to have any intent to cause injury or damage. One could consider the psychological angle, causing fear and convincing others to hide by mere presence rather than continue with their prior plans. It was certainly an attack, but the only things it cost anyone were time, and... pride." There was a weight to the word, and I figured it must be important to him. "The PRT would advise the Protectorate to prioritize life and livelihood over the shame of inaction. Starting a fight simply would not be worth it, unless we were confident in a swift capture."

"You'd just let him go?" There was a hint of accusation to the question.

"There is no 'just' about it." He sharply replied. "Either we capture him, we leave him be, or we incite a conflict that could kill hundreds, and threaten thousands. Which you almost did. If your first attack didn't work, what was your plan? How were you going to stop him from burning the shops down? The easy answer is to have Vista turn the street into a stadium and keep him from engaging anyone else, but that would make her a priority target for Lee. The fight that was dangerous. What was your plan for fighting him?"

It looked like I hadn't entirely dodged that reprimand, after all. "I... was honestly hyperfocused on Lung, and forgot that Oni Lee was probably nearby."

"Almost reasonable, given your limited experience and the threat involved. The saying about 'almost' being painfully apt, given the situation." He shook hid head and took a moment to calm down. "No one died, no one was even hurt. You were very lucky, and you should use this as a learning experience. The biggest problem I saw with the other accounts being that you never consulted with the rest of your team before charging forward with your own plan. You weren't alone, but you fought like you were."

The worst part was, he was right. About that, at least. It wouldn't sting as much if it didn't make me think of my team, of which Vicky was a member, and how the whole point of a team was teamwork. "I could handle it... but I should have talked with them." I carefully acceded.

He nodded, but it seemed like he was taking what he could get, rather than actually happy with it. I wasn't... I was absolutely stubborn enough to warrant it. I bit back a groan. "There's one last thing I wanted to know." I grunted, and he continued. "We have yet to get any reports of utility outages in the area. My current theory being that your discourse was intentional, to prompt him to move into a more advantageous position. Your Thinker abilities at work?"

Shit, abort, abort. "No comment." Goddammit, brain.

Armsmaster immediately nodded, as if he'd expected it. I suppose capes holding their cards behind their backs has been a thing for as long as capes have existed. "Alright, for the record, could you restate the course of events, from your perspective, in your own words?"

I sighed and got to it, the recounting from derailing the patrol to getting back to the PRT building only taking about three minutes. Of course, I fudged the details about my powers a little, but he didn't seem perturbed I'd left it out. The only time he stopped me was to ask why I hadn't blocked off Lee's eyes when I iced his vest, which led to learning that they believed his powers worked on line of sight. It made sense, in hindsight... and I only felt a little stupid about it. After we were done, he escorted me from the building and the lobby lurkers got nice PR shots of me shaking Armsmaster's hand while we negotiated a standard social parting.

After that it was just a matter of checking my phone to see where I was meeting Vicky.

...who tackled me into a flying spin as soon as I met her in the right alley.

"Terra!" She cheered between peals of laughter. "I can't believe you did that!"

"Vicky!" I groused, pushing away at her, for all the good that did.

"Haha, sorry." She let me down and I took a moment to stand still and let the dizziness fade. "But you took out Lung. Like the trash."

"I just chose not to fight a battle I couldn't win." She started sputtering denials, but I cut her off. "No, Vicky. The only way I could actually beat him was to kill him before he got too big." I sagged, shaking my head. "I don't think I'm ready to kill anyone, even someone like him."

"Heroes don't kill people." She stated, but from how conflicted she felt, it sounded more like she was quoting someone. "I get it, you're better than that."

I reached over and made grabby motions at the bag she'd left sitting against a wall. "I think I need to just be Taylor for a while."

She helpfully sped over to sling it at me. I caught it and huddled under the best cover I could find to change. Vicky keeping lookout, even though she didn't really need to. Changing went quickly, and the flight to the mall was only a couple minutes. "Alright, let's do this." I stated firmly, readjusting my bag on my shoulders.

"You make it sound so serious." Vicky snorted.

I gave her a flat look. "I haven't seriously tried to doll myself up since I was twelve. All those memories are..." I shuddered. "I don't need to enjoy the process of moving on."

Her smile was a brittle, gentle thing. "You're the one holding you back from it, though." I shot her another irritated glance, and she held up her hands. "Not that it's easy."

My scowl softened. "I know." I turned a determined glare at the poor unassuming mall entrance, taking a deep breath and trying to let the tension out with it. "The shopping shall continue until morale improves."

"That's the spirit!" She cheered as we started to actually move in.

"I don't think you're taking the reference the way I meant it." I snarked back.

"Shush, you." She said before sticking her tongue out at me. I snickered. I guess my mood was picking up a little... "First thing's first." She stated, leading the way to one of those bath shops. I stepped over the threshold and my nose wrinkled at the chaotic flowery mess assaulting my senses. "It's not that bad." Vicky pressed, grabbing my hand and leading me over to the moisturizers.

The wall display of moisturizers. "What am I looking at, and what am I looking for?" I droned out.

She rolled her eyes. "Foot care. If you don't want to scrub and file, you could go with something gritty." She picked up a black cream with charcoal in it. "But you should try all your options. This one's good for face scrubs, too... not that I've ever seen you with a zit." I reached a hand up to my cheek reflexively. Wait, really? I knew I was better off than a lot of the Winslow kids, but I still had skin problems. Two or three zits a week, likely stress-induced. If I really did have better skin, I was either stressing less, or this was another power thing. Maybe Amy was zapping them? "You know I can see you trying to be a downer, right?"

I glared at her smirking face. "Fine, I'll try the face scrub."

"And the body balm." She grabbed another tube of less specialized moisturizer. "And the body scrub!" This one was in a proper bottle.

"More gritty goop?"

"Different gritty goop. You have to be more careful with what goes on your face." She took on a lecturing pose and cadence. "The scrubs you're supposed to rub in and wash off, but the other stuff you can just use whenever. You can just get by with hand cream from any store, but we're already here."

I pointedly didn't mention that I'd seen products like all of these at regular stores. I doubted I'd be back here anytime soon. "Okay, so what's next?"

"Scrubbies!" She led me over to a selection of exfoliating implements. "Do you have a loofah?"

"I just use a washcloth. It works fine."

She grabbed a sponge and set it in my nearly overflowing hands. I gave her a blank stare and she pursed her lips in thought, before zipping over to the shopping baskets to grab one. "You should try scrubbing down with a moisturizer bar after washing, see if you like it better than the creams. You'll still need hand cream for your hands and feet, though." She bent down to pick up another sponge thing. "And this is pumice." She dropped it into my hand.

Huh. This stuff was like rock foam. Neat. "The stuff dad uses to scrub the grout?"

She lifted a hand, index finger extended. Her mouth hung open for a second, before she closed it and deflated a bit. "Technically? The stuff for skin has more quality control involved, and I think the grains are different. But, I mean..." She leaned closer. "Brutes can sometimes use industrial stuff without hurting themselves. My power doesn't work like that, but yours might."

I snorted. "Is there a story, there?"

Vicky rolled her eyes. "Uncle Neil sandpapers his bunions."

She swatted at me when I made a retching noise. "So is that everything?" I asked, and she made a point of visibly considering it.

"Probably. Unless you want some fancy shampoos, bath bombs, face mask, hair oil," I got the feeling she was just going to keep listing the store's entire catalog, so I cut her off.

"Hair oil. I'm almost out." I let her lead me over, and I picked out a relatively inexpensive bottle from a brand I hadn't seen before. Then we checked out, Vicky whipping out a credit card before I could dig out my cash. I sulked behind her as she preened the whole way back into the mall proper. "You didn't have to do that." I muttered.

"I'm not buying everything." She insisted. "But I don't mind picking up a few of the smaller tabs. Speaking of, food?"

"I could eat." I decided after a little thought. She cheered, and I figured it must take a lot of calories to power all that pep. She certainly took every excuse she got to nibble on something or other. I was hopefully still filling out a bit, but I rather hoped she didn't have the same excuse. The less curve envy I had to deal with, the happier I'd be in the long run.

"I'mma hit the bathroom." She said when we arrived at the food court. "You figure out what you want while I'm in there?"

"Sure." That sounded fair. I already had our only bag so far, so there was nothing stopping her from powerwalking to the toilets. That felt odd for her, but she probably didn't want to make it too easy for people to recognize her before we were done eating. I started checking out our options, scanning across the wall of miniature venues as I made my way to a more central part of the room to simplify the process. This took me into the tables, and about a minute of glossing over menu boards later my eyes tracked down to a familiar face sipping at a bubble tea while intently glowering at her laptop. The moment I started actively approaching her, her eyes snapped up to mine and widened as she froze.

"What are you doing here, Lisa?" I hissed, slipping into an empty seat at her table in an effort to look slightly less suspicious.

"I'm shopping." She half-lied back in the same tone. My eyes narrowed and she grimaced. "Fine, I'm intentionally staying in a very public space where my boss can't have me swiftly extract myself from at the drop of a hat, in case he decides I should be distracting someone today."

Right, I had warned her about Lung today. The surprise at her reasoning shifted into a carefully controlled expression that she still somehow pulled information from. "Wait, you already-" She inspected me more thoughtfully. "You didn't just fight Lung, you beat him." She mumbled quietly.

"I chose not to fight him." I insisted, but it was starting to sound a little hollow.

She grinned. "How did-" She perked up, scowled, huffed, and simmered like a child told they had to wait for Christmas, even if they already knew what their presents were. "How did you do it?"

I smirked. "I'm sure you'll catch it on the news later." There were bound to be cameras that caught something of what happened.

"You are distilled anti-fun." She muttered. Then she glanced down at my bag and I could almost hear the cogs grinding out the secrets of the universe. "So, where's-?"

"Friend of yours?" Vicky asked from where she was floating next to us. I jumped, and Lisa shot her a glare. From the grin and the way her eyes were sparkling, she'd done that on purpose.

Still, this meant I needed to think fast. "I met her after some volunteering I did, a while back." Which was technically true. "Lisa, Vicky. Vicky, Lisa."

They greeted and shook hands, and Lisa closed her laptop and stood up. "I should be heading home anyway..."

Hurricane Victoria was having none of her excuses. "Nonsense! We were only just starting, and Taylor needs more friends anyway-" Her volume dipped as she tacked on her second point.

"Hey!" I snapped.

She grinned harder and pitched her voice back up. "-so why not come with us? We still need to do clothes and makeup, and reintroduce her to her feminine side!"

"Whyyy?" I moaned. I'd asked for help, but that didn't mean I liked airing it to just anyone.

"Come oooon, for Taylor?" Vicky plead, giving her a wet pout and the puppy eyes.

Lisa's face was flat for most of it, but I could feel she was amused. She turned back to meet my eyes and slowly broke into a wide and almost toothy grin. "Well, if it's for Taylor..."

I groaned. "I should have just ignored you."

"Too late for that, sweetie." She chirped, then turned back to Vicky. "So what's the plan?" She asked as if she didn't already know it.

"Food, clothes, shoes, makeup. Have her strutting like a minx by the end of the night." Vicky counted the points off on her hand, before pumping her fist with more enthusiasm than I felt comfortable with her expressing over that last point.

Maybe I should have asked someone else for help with this problem.

"Ooh, lingerie first?"

"That works."

...anyone else.

"Did you decide what you wanted?" Vicky asked, cracking through my embarrassment and general malaise.

"Nope." I flatly replied.

She turned to Lisa. "You want anything?"

Lisa hummed, and glanced around. "Sandwiches?" She asked, pointing out a sub shop.

Vicky glanced my way and I shrugged. Subs were different enough from what I had for lunch that I didn't mind it. "Sure."

As she started heading over, Lisa visibly sagged a little in relief. I gave an inquisitive hum and a raised brow, to which she answered, "Least dirty shop, right now."

Huh. I guess she would be able to tell when someone's washed their hands or left food out too long, and when she was ordering toppings I got the feeling part of her decision process involved which bins flies hadn't landed in recently. She seemed fairly happy with it while we were heading back to sit down again.

"You sure you don't have too much sandwich in your condiments?" Lisa jabbed as Vicky took a bite of her- admittedly almost soggy- sub.

She dabbed her mouth and shifted into her 'stereotypical lecturer' stance and tone. "The sandwich is merely a vessel to facilitate the conveyance of delicious honey mustard... into my face hole." Her hand shifted to point at herself at the end.

I could feel a sort of vicious amusement welling up in Lisa. "Is that wh-oww!" She glared my way after my foot connected with her shin.

"Yeah, yeah. That's what she said." Vicky muttered, focused on her food and seemingly oblivious of our glaring contest. I tried to convey 'play nice or leave' as hard as I could, and eventually it seemed to sink in. She rolled her eyes and started on her own food, then I finally let myself bite into mine.

Vicky filled the air with questions for Lisa. What school she went to- graduated early. What she did with her time- mostly work. Is she from the Bay- no, only been here about a year. Simple back and forth like that, and most of it was even true.

Once the food was slain, we grabbed our bags- my backpack and shopping bag, and Lisa's laptop case messenger bag- and left to find the right store. I trudged along behind them as they led the way, already knowing the mall fairly well. I caught sight of our destination, eyes panning over the windows and scanning over the mannequins. All of them barely realistically tall, thin, and curvy, with thin strips of lace barely covering the important parts. I shuddered.

"Hey." Vicky called softly. She was giving me a kind, encouraging sort of smile. I could barely see the pity on her face. "It's going to be okay. Why don't you set some ground rules?" She drifted closer and leaned in. "I want you to at least try. It'll be good if something we find will help you feel better about yourself." She quietly implored.

I glanced over her shoulder at Lisa, who seemed... almost uncharacteristically somber. I wasn't sure what'd set it off, but she'd absolutely heard that entire exchange despite Vicky's efforts. I broke our stare first, glancing down to the side. Her lips thinned a little more, and I could feel a bit of anger bubbling up within her.

My eyes drifted back up and over the displays. Then through the doors, spying a nightgown section. "Nothing sheer." I said after a few second's thought. "Minimal lace." I glanced back at them and chuckled. "I get that no lace is asking a bit much..."

They smiled at my attempt at levity. "Alright, we can work with that." Vicky said, turning back to Lisa. "Shall we?"

I followed them in, trying to push down my nerves. "You get her set up at a changing room. I'll grab a few things to start us off." Lisa said as she broke off to the side.

"You told her your sizes?" Vicky asked me.

"I'm great at guessing them!" Lisa called back across the store.

I snorted. "She's obnoxiously good at guessing things."

Vicky chuckled and led me through to the back, where there was a little kiosk and some cubicles. The woman nearby greeted us, and I set my bags up against the side of it for now. She and Vicky were only partway into their smalltalk about our shopping trip thusfar when Lisa joined us again.

"You don't seem like a bright red girl, so I grabbed some darker colors." She handed off her bounty- half a dozen sets of bras and panties- which were thin, but looked just thick enough to be properly opaque. Some were embroidered, and most of them had lace trim, but they met my previous demands.

"Oooh, nice." Vicky said as she looked them over, then looked up at me. "You don't have to show them off to us, but I'd like you to see how you look in them."

"...alright." I let her open the door for me, and I slid the lock shut when it closed. I could hear the three of them talking outside, but they were quiet enough I couldn't quite make out the words. I really hoped Lisa wasn't picking a fight with a Brute without me there to reign her in... I took my clothes off, and partway through the blondes started wandering off to browse. The clerk seemed happy enough to play guard and keep me from shoplifting too easily.

One by one, the sets went on and came back off. I had to admit, even through the usual 'naked and vulnerable' anxiety, I did like a few of them. I wasn't sure about any magical lace confidence boost, but I was probably overthinking things. I might very well have felt better about them if I had someone to show them off to, but... the mythical 'boyfriend' my mind tried to conjure elicited more wary anxiety than positive embarrassment. It wasn't like I was going to work myself up into a lustful headspace in the middle of the mall, which might have been my issue. I didn't really 'want' me, and it was hard to imagine someone else feeling the same without effort that wasn't happening here.

My original underwear along with pants and shirt went back on, and I let the pair outside think they surprised me by both holding up nightclothes they thought I'd like. Vicky even went so far as to quietly cheer out "Nighties!".

Vicky's was more of a dress than a shirt, while the one Lisa pulled up was shorter, with a sheer stomach. Both had matching panties. "Alright, I'll try them." I set the pile of underthings on the kiosk, setting a couple aside to return and the rest to become the 'maybe' pile.

The dress shirt went down to just above my knees, and felt nice on my skin. I could see myself sleeping in it. The other... it felt really flirty, and I could see my cheeks and chest pink and darken above the neck hem as I posed a little. Definitely pushing boundaries... but it took a bit of thoughtful consideration to decide it wasn't too far over the line.

As I'd said, obnoxiously good at guessing.

When I came out again, the pair handed me another small pile of underwear to try. Both of the nighties went in the 'maybe' pile. Ten minutes later I was done trying the new things on, and the three of us pared the growing pile down to four choices I felt comfortable with, along with both night sets.

I still winced when they were finished ringing up. Reluctantly, I started groping for my wallet, already mourning the bills within.

"I'll get it." Lisa chimed in, fetching a card to run.

"Really?" Okay, I felt a little relieved, but I was still confused.

She rolled her eyes. "It was my idea, and you can pay me back later."

Right. Owing the villain. That slotted into my worldview more easily than charity. I chewed my lip and nodded, as if they weren't already halfway through the process. "Uhh, thanks."

Her face briefly settled into an odd look, and a few sad tells flared up. I wasn't sure what to make of it, but didn't want to call her out on it to find out. She handed me the bag. "Don't worry about it." She replied with a forced smile.

Was this some passive-aggressive Thinker fight? It felt too complicated to be normal teenaged girl bullshit. ...then again, that might just be wishful thinking. Thinker powers were only going to help so much with rabid social maneuvering and subtle power plays.

She was giving my back a sad look while we left to find a regular clothing store.

"Okay! Rule 1:" Vicky spun on her heel to face us, stopping on a dime eerily well using her powers. "No hoodies. I know you like them, but you've got a bunch and the last store was for things to cover up, not this one."

"Fair." I huffed.

"We can get you a nice summer jacket, though. Mostly I just want you to try some thinner shirts and tighter pants. You don't have to get any, but again- it's about you seeing yourself in them."

"No excuses not to let us see this time, though." Lisa happily chipped in.

I sighed. "Right, not underwear."

Vicky didn't seem as happy with Lisa for that, but she didn't actually do anything about it. She led the way in, and we were immediately beset by racks of blouses and mannequins in whatever the latest 'style' was. I was content to browse through them, but the others were scanning through more intently, picking out the occasional piece to have me try. This continued for the next two racks, until we came upon the pants.

"Those are never going to fit." I flatly stated.

Vicky tugged lightly at them. "They stretch, though!"

"It looks like someone ordered hose in the wrong material, and the manufacturer just shrugged because they get paid either way." A little hyperbolic, but I stood by my point.

"You're a big, strong girl." Lisa added, cocking a hip and generally looking sassy. "I'm sure you can get them on and take them off, and the store won't charge you if pants that say they'll fit rip on you. Manufacturer error."

Ugh. It was only for a couple minutes anyway, so they could see I really didn't have any butt to show off. "I'll try them." Vicky handed them over, and I gave them a quick inspection. My fingers hooked into the pockets, but I couldn't get a full fingernail deep. I turned a glower back at Vicky. "These don't have pockets." She opened her mouth to rebut, and I cut her off. "Worse, these pockets are lies."

"Blame the Patriarchy?" Lisa helpfully suggested.

Vicky glanced at her wide grin and shook her head with an indulgent smile of her own. "It's not like you'd fit much into pants this tight, anyway."

"So you're saying there are pants with pockets, here?" She was halfway through an unconvincing 'yes' when I continued. "All four pockets they claim to have?"

She pouted. "That's what the jacket's for."

"Suboptimal, floppy pockets." I held the pants away like they were personally revolting, giving them a disgusted look. "I refuse to be pursed against my will."

"Revolución..." Lisa hissed conspiratorially.

"Stop encouraging the rebels." Vicky snapped playfully, and Lisa giggled.

I supposed they were getting along. Which was good.

...right?

"I'm going to change." I grumbled and started for the changing rooms, rather than consider the ramifications of the preppy blondes working together against me. They followed behind, happily debating feminist politics. The first thing I did when I was safely ensconced in the booth was bonk my forehead against the door and mutter, "...save me from smart blondes..." They were really tearing into each other now, but seemed to gleefully revel the challenge rather than spitting hatefully like I'd expected.

Teenage girls were horrifying.

I heaved one last sigh before starting to strip down. The shirt was easy to throw on, but the pants were uncomfortably tight and didn't like being tugged on. I suppose there was probably a proper way to just roll them on or something, but I managed to brute force it. Everything from my waist down felt like it'd been compressed in a vice, but the pants seemed to be holding together. I didn't mind showing off my legs a little, but these looked almost painted on. My legs were developing nicely, but still weren't as shapely as I'd like, which these just highlighted. My hips were skinny, and I had no ass to speak of, especially compressed down like this. It felt a little gross, showing it off.

"Heeey! You done in there?" Lisa called, probably knowing full well from some tell or another that I was.

I let out a long groan, loud enough that they heard it and started snickering. I opened the door and found the two of them waiting, with my bags sitting next to one of Vicky's legs. They both turned a clinical eye on my body, and I fought down a slight flush.

"You look good." Vicky insisted.

"She looks constipated." Lisa countered. "The pants bring out your legs, and you're more shapely than you think, but you're clearly uncomfortable with it."

"Shirt's cute, though!"

"Of course it is, I picked that one."

I decided to stop them before they could start properly bickering. "Could you grab me some different pants? Something I might actually get."

They left me to watch my stuff and stretch a little, trying to get the pants to feel less off. They came back with a few different styles of pants in a couple different colors, thankfully few of which were stretchy. We spent maybe half an hour with me trying different new things on, then with them insisting on different combinations of things we'd picked. After that was ditching the chaff, which left me with a few shirts and a couple pairs of pants.

When we got to checking out, I actually got to pay for something myself. I got an odd look for paying with a wad of cash, but nothing more than that. It finished off the money I'd gotten from Dad for 'costume things' and bit into what I'd had drawn from my account before that.

"We're done, right?" I asked, new bag in hand, large enough that the other bags fit inside while sitting on the clothes.

"We need shoes." Vicky stated.

"Omigawd, shoes." Lisa snipped.

"Shut up, bitch." Vicky stung back.

They were both smiling. I wasn't sure I'd ever understand that sort of casual bickering friendship. The closest I'd had was with Amy, and even there it was always carefully planned to make her smile before I said anything, or snap her out of a mood. I couldn't help but feel jealous of the more extroverted ability to just... suddenly friends like this.

"I don't need shoes."

"Yeah, you do." Vicky replied, while Lisa gave me a thoughtful look.

"I can't afford them today, and I don't want new shoes." I pressed.

Lisa poked her, shook her head, and waggled a hand. Vicky's face scrunched in thought, before she sighed and shrugged. "Alright, I guess we can do shoes next time."

"I need to get going sooner or later, anyway." Lisa added. Vicky crooned about how much of a shame that was, but they swapped numbers and Vicky let her go.

The two of us headed for an exit, and once we were outside Vicky flew us up to the roof. "So, what's with the shoes?"

I sighed. "It's a power thing. I don't like anything between my feet and the ground." I showed her the bottoms of my feet, and she looked worried for a moment.

"No wonder you need to pick up your foot care." She muttered, then shook her head. "Might need more help with that, later." She hopped into the air and floated off a ways, setting down and pointing at the ground in front of her imperiously. "Now strut, betch."

"Really?" I called incredulously.

"Really!" She returned with a wide grin.

Once I'd resigned myself to the task, it wasn't that bad, just tedious. She essentially spent nearly an hour instructing me how to hold my shoulders steadier and waggle my hips a little bit more while I walked. She insisted I'd be sashaying like a pro if I kept up the practice, but I didn't see the big difference. Maybe I'd see it if I could watch myself from behind.

A few times she'd taken out her phone and texted, but that hadn't seemed important. "Hey, you want to get dinner?"

"Sure?" I replied. "What did you have in mind?"

"Just gonna fly us to a place I like." She seemed... oddly excited about it. Nothing about the situation felt malicious, though. I was probably overthinking it.

"Alright."

The trip took longer than the last one, but we were flying slower because of the bags, and detouring to my house to drop them all off. After a bit of internal debate, I decided to leave my backpack as well. Vicky managed to talk me into putting one of the new outfits on, then we were flying to the Boardwalk.

It was only as we were coming in for a landing that I recognized a couple familiar faces. "Hi, guys!" She called to them. Setting down confirmed that Shielder- in civilian clothes- felt exactly as frustrated as he looked, standing next to Dean.

"What's going on?" I asked warily.

"Vicky..." Her cousin groaned, but still closed the rest of the distance between us, with Dean right behind. "Sorry about her, I'm Eric. Apparently we're dating, now."

He held out his hand, and I looked down at it. Then I glanced back up at him, the edges of my vision darkening as the panic attack set in.

I came back to my senses to Dean pulling his hand away from me, my emotions chaotic and difficult to parse. I had to purge them, to think straight. I closed my eyes and fell into my breathing exercises, slamming my control down on them. Now a bastion of enforced calm, I opened my eyes to survey the situation. Vicky was looking sheepish, and Eric was glaring at her. Dean looked shocked and felt surprised, still watching me.

"What happened?" I droned out.

"You froze up." Eric said, before anyone else could speak up. "Are you okay?"

The hackles on my neck raised, and I pushed the feelings away again. "I'm... okay." I conceded that I wasn't fine, so I didn't bother saying it.

"Do you know what happened? What set you off?" He asked, keeping the initiative away from the others.

My mouth opened, but I paused. I couldn't freeze up again or they'd worry, so I nodded. I took a moment to find the words. "My last... my only relationship, was...-" wound up "-...abusive. I'm still having trouble with it, sometimes."

"I'm sorry." Vicky tried. "I didn't-"

"No, Vicky. You didn't." Eric spat. He held up his hands and took a calming breath. "Just... the two people who didn't want to date again yet?"

"Stop." I coldly demanded, and he shut up. I turned to Vicky. "This wasn't okay, but... this is fucking ridiculous. I can't hide away or break down every time something like this comes up, so... thanks, I guess." She tried to smile, and it didn't really work. "I need to confront this, meet it head-on."

"Might not be the healthiest way to handle it." Shielder offered.

"It's what I've got, right now." I turned back to him. "So, you want to leave?"

He shrugged. "I want to help."

I nodded. "So, no dating. But... maybe practice dating?" I scoffed and dropped my head into my hands. "God, that sounds pathetic."

"Hey, you want help, and I get free food." He smiled as I pulled my face up. "Sounds fair." He turned back to his cousin. "But, Vicky. My type?" He raised his hand to the top of his head, and chopped it my way. "Not taller than me." I snorted. I only had maybe half an inch on him, made up by his spikier hair.

"You'll hit your growth spurt eventually, squirt." She was starting to feel better, slipping back into familial snarking.

"Shut up." He waved back at the restaurant. "You two go in, I'm going to talk with Taylor."

She gave me a nervous look-over, but Dean put a hand on her shoulder, and started leading her in.

I kept at my structured breathing as I watched them go. "So, too tall for you?"

He chuckled, but thumbed up at the roof. I glanced around, and... yeah, still people. I nodded and he held out his hand, pulling the both of us into the air to drift up and over until we were alone. "I love my dad, but growing up in the same house as him is emasculating as hell. You either don't let it bother you, or you snap."

My eyes drifted up to his neon blue hair. "Or... yes?"

"Yes." He grinned, and I smiled. Seems 'both' was the answer after all.

"So... you? Relationship stuff?"

His grin dimmed. "Broke up recently. Chris, freshman, good girl... she didn't like all the cape stuff, which is why I thought we'd work. Turned out to still be too much for her. We're... not friends, but we're okay." He shrugged and turned his head up at the darkening sky. "I'm just not feeling it again, yet."

"That's fair." I nodded.

He turned his attention back to me. "What about you?"

"I... My..." I hugged myself and shivered. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Hey, as long as he's out of your- oh." I'd flinched when he misgendered Emma. "Not gonna judge, as long as you're safe now." I grit my teeth and nodded. "It's still okay if you want to skip out on tonight, you know?"

"No. I..." I shivered and shook my head. "I hate this. I hate me. I hate hating myself over this. I'm done."

"Alright." He still didn't agree, but he wasn't going to argue anymore. He held out his hand, and I let him fly me down.

I didn't let him let go, pulling him along behind me. I knew where Vicky was, but I let him point them out to me. They watched as we approached, having caught sight of Eric's hair. I'm sure my face was more scowl than smile as we met up and sat down, and I finally let him have his hand back.

The dinner was tense, but the food was good. Conversation centered around inconsequential small talk. Vicky seemed to not want to accidentally set me off again, Eric seemed like he was trying to be nice by shifting the topics around and not letting anything get too serious... and I got the feeling Dean was afraid of me, for some reason.

After dinner, Vicky flew me home. She kept apologizing, and promised there would be no more surprise dates. I told her I was mad, but wasn't going to stay mad. That we were still okay.

I didn't feel up to much else tonight, as burnt out as I was, so I went to bed early.