Katsumi Shinoda (wreckingball) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-03-05 02:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-09-02 |
you think i'm crazy, a little bit hazy
Who: Estelle & Whisper
Where: High fashion end of the mall
When: Early evening
Estelle considered what others thought the point to attaching a chain to their wallet was. They could delude themselves into thinking that it prevented thievery, but it did not. A skilled enough fingersmith would still have that off and the rest out of their pocket without them noticing. But then mortal senses were inferior in almost every capacity that she could think of. Common sense included. It only made sense to her that if someone smiled at you and revealed themselves to have fangs then they would be a vampire, thus you ought not try stealing anything from their person. Nor should you be surprised when their hand followed yours into their handbag and broke all five of your fingers. Such a reaction was really only to be expected, as far as she could see, and did not warrant the overreaction of the blubbering tears that followed as the teenager -- older than her at least physically -- backed away, gripping his wrist and, as Estelle saw it, wasting bodily fluids that mortals needed. At the rate the boy was crying, someone would need to get him a glass of water so he did not dehydrate. Yet that whimpering could be the most absurd of sounds. It did not help a single thing. A flicker of annoyance crossed her face and she wondered whether there was any real point putting that one sharp moment of pressure on his windpipe, just to--'Estelle.' Oh really, was he still here? Turning her head to glance further down the mall, she stared at her sire with the same intent curiosity she had given the rest of the building thus far, then turned back to what she had originally been occupied with before that hand had made itself known. Who stole money from children, anyway?
She would, but she was more than aware the general populous would be rather set against it.
Finally finding a store she actually wanted to go into, she swung her umbrella in a rainbow arc over her head and closed it expertly. It had only been left open to make see if the superstitious had a visible twitch. Apparently not. "Hold that," she told the woman nearest the door who looked most like a shopping assistant. If she was not then she needed a personal dresser or maybe to start changing her attire from her work clothes to something more palatable before she came clothes shopping. Actually, what blood-type was she? No, not at all anything Estelle was interested in. But, oh - there was that set of thoughts, though. The ones that most certainly were not her sire and he was lying when he said he could not hear them as well. He really needed to learn to lie better around her, she knew how to pick apart each and every one of his facial twitches, never mind his expressions. This is what it feels like to be 'deprived of one's medication', I believe. The woman she had handed the umbrella was trying to push it back into her hands. Was she not the help? "I told you to hold it," Estelle reminded her. "Do so." It had yet to occur to her that the woman was only seeing a rather peculiar teenager -- maybe with rather cold hands. Not until the older man, the one with a badge bearing his name and a title -- Assistant Manager -- edged a little closer. She did not recall doing anything that required the attention of an Assistant Manager. The last time that had happened, she had pulled down all the clothes from the rack and was considering eating the cashier. That, however, had been some cheap, two-bit place that she refused to buy anything from regardless of what her sire threatened her with. Nothing about this situation seemed at all similar. "Yes?" She looked up at him in a manner that was pointed by her standards, practically impassive by the standards of others, and waited. He seemed to have been waiting for the situation to worsen or some such before he spoke, else her manner was unsettling, because the man suddenly looked terribly ill at ease.
"Miss--" She did not like being addressed that way, truth be told, but never mind. "Miss, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave. We cater for a more... More adult clientele." He gave a sheepish smile. "So sorry."
"I see." Tilting her head at the woman with her umbrella, she glanced at it but did not reclaim it, instead giving her a closed smile that held no feeling. "You mean I am too young."
The Assistant Manager seemed to fidget without moving. As though this girl in front of him was about to throw a tantrum and declare him agist at the top of her voice, humiliating him in front of the whole mall. Maybe another day. "Ah... Yes."
Estelle gave a sigh that could have been contented and beamed at them all enough to give the whole store a view of her fangs. "I doubt we will be having a problem, will we?" There now, they always looked much better with the blood draining from their faces. She was, however, just a little insulted by the automatic suggestion that she might dress like a run-of-the-mill fourteen year old. Although she did look a little she had stepped out of private school and changed just a few things here and there. All of which was irrelevant in the face of the fact she was armed with Sandler's money.