Who: Chase [Narrative] Where: Cassi's When: After the test. Late morning.
Chase felt a little ridiculous lugging his gym bag around, considering it was nearly empty, and knowing despite full well that he planned on filling it to the brim before the end of his trip. His feet felt....strange....to say the least. They didn't quite hurt, but ached dully, and had the simultaneously soggy and overly dry sensation of flesh that pruned and hadn't properly dried. He could have, should have waited before pulling his shoes and socks on, but he'd wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. The sneakers helped, fully appreciating the support and warmth they provided on the trip across town. He didn't want to know how they'd gotten into the bag, or where they'd been for the past few days. Whoever had stolen them had apparently taken care of them, and the important fact was that they were where they belonged. On his damn feet.
He wasn't the only one heading toward the store, but he was so tired, so worn down that he didn't really feel like talking to anyone at the moment. Not as if that was terribly unusual, but while Kiley had opted out of going, Lennon was there, and Chase might have considered socializing with him if the circumstances were a bit different. The idea that he really would have, despite not doing so now, was still progress. He'd take it.
He was a man on a mission when he wandered into the building, unzipping the gym bag and rifling through the plethora of clothing as quickly as possible. Two hoodies, one gray and one dark blue were picked first, the darker of the two he actually slid on. Socks, a few pairs each of light and thick, a few sets of boxerbriefs, two tank tops, three plain t-shirts (one blue, one green, one white), two long-sleeved shirts, and a soft pair of actual pajama pants. The only garments he actually tried on were the two pairs of jeans he ended up throwing into the bag as well. Everything was kind of....weirdly stylish in a way he hadn't really cared about in the real world. It would all fit well and be comfortable, he assumed, and if not, he'd just come back and trade it in if he had to. It wasn't as if he'd never be thrown into town again.
He did his best not to overload the bag too much, not so much for the trip to the house, but the potential journey away from this place. He didn't have to take everything when he went, but it was a train of thought he simply couldn't ignore, even as he headed up the stairs to the second floor.
He felt a little chill as he simply stood at the top, watching a few of the others shuffling through the area as he eyed the racks and clothing. It was strange up here, smelled different, weird, and the contents didn't really seem to fit with what he'd rummaged through downstairs. His eyes fell onto a kid-sized Star Wars t-shirt he couldn't even imagine would fit anyone at the house, and idly wondered why it was even there. He dared to set his bag down along the wall as he wandered, already fairly confident he didn't want to venture too far, particularly considering he'd already gotten much of what he'd wanted.
When his eyes fell on the hoodie, the soft black material poking out in a forest of other similar garments, it was the bold, red and white stripe along the sleeve that clicked in his brain. He knew that, and figured out what it was even before he pulled the article away from the others, the bold N7 logo practically screaming at him. He'd had one just like it back home, soft, thick and warm. Almost despite himself, he tugged the cloth toward him and hugged it, a small smile curving at the corner of his mouth even as he tried to disguise the movement as simply checking the tag for what size it was. It was the right one, though despite that he would have grabbed it anyway. He held it up, then frowned, his eyes grazing over the single, prominent short hair sticking near the hood, protected by the cloth. Cat hair. It looked like....
His eyes widened and he let out a ragged breath. Minion. It looked like one of Minion's. This wasn't like his hoodie back home, it was his hoodie.
He stomped back to the gym bag, stuffing the clothing into it as if to protect it from whatever might try to keep him from taking it, glowering intensely at the nearest camera before starting to heft the bag up onto his shoulder. A second later it dropped to the ground, his eyes locked the coat rack in front of him.
No. No that didn't make any sense. It couldn't be.
He didn't know how he'd actually gotten to the jacket. One second he was standing next to his bag, close to the stairs, and the next he was twenty feet away, his fingers carefully pulling at the coats and jackets that surrounding his target. The leather was such a dark navy color that it was nearly black, the material soft, high quality, expensive. It was built to be snug, form-fitting, with flattering lines and amazing tailoring. It was stylish and cool, and promised a confidence that Chase would never, ever be capable of. The damn thing had cost nearly five hundred dollars, and he'd fallen in love with it the first time he'd seen it.
Seen it on David.
He carefully pulled it from the hanger, letting the weight rest in his hands. After a second, he let the zipper slide down and saw the letters "DA" inscribed in the label near the collar. Without thinking about it, he drew it to his face, the material smelling like leather, and faintly of old cologne, and of David.
Fuck you. Fuck all of you, you fucking fuckers. His hands were shaking now as his mouth twisted into a painful line. How did you get this? Did you take him? Where is he? Why the hell do you HAVE THIS?
His shoulders were shaking as he tucked the jacket carefully under his arm and strode to his bag. He didn't want to know if there was anything else here he'd recognize, already feeling sick to his stomach and vibrating with both rage and panic. There were questions, so many of them, and none of which he'd get answers to. He knew that, deep in his gut. Hefting the gyn bag over one shoulder he practically glided down the stairs and out the door. He needed to be back at his room. Away from the cameras, and the eyes, the people around him, and all of the shit this whole place entailed.