The X-Men go to Macy's

September 7, 2014: A group of X-Men members, from both Blue and Red teams, decide to go on a shopping trip to Macy's.

Macy's — New York City

Where people buy clothes and crap.



  • None

Mood Music:

Macys. Where soccer moms go to blow their husbands money and where the working mom visits to purchase last years clearance. Where the rich and famous sometimes visit to hock their stankin' perfumes and the wannabe's go to buy it. It would be the first and many outings that were designed for Lunair and Betsy but you know what? The more the merrier. Everyone needed to indulge themselves in the horror that is Macy's, and get a couple of things that may or may not be sale. Case in point. The matresses. Surely they're sold at a 500 mark up, but c'mon. They're fluffy.


Once again. Fluffy.

Thus brings in the group that we shall call the X-Dudes, Betsy currently has an arm slung around Lunair, walking ahead of the rag tag and odd mix of folks that make up the vast institution, arm gesturing out in a grand fashion as she puts on the spiel of the perks of shopping at Macy's, or any where else for that matter.

"You see here? Over there we got the trendy crap that no one really buys but douchebags and wanna be hipsters, then we have high fashion. Today Loonie, we're going high fashion. You have to look good carrying your guns."

Each member was outfitted with one of Betsy's credit cards before arriving, so branching off was up to them, unless they wanted to hang around ravenous women and Jessica Simpson shoe freaks.

"We'll start with the shoes. Nothing says, 'I'll hurt you', like a pair of big black boots.'"


Of course it's the myriad of 'trendy' t-shirts that draw Quentin's attention and has him splitting off from the group. He pauses there to slide through a few of the racks, smirking to himself at some of the 'memes' depicted on each one. Various deformed cats on black dfabric look back at him, a few Sheba doges, even a curious looking adolescent ginger kid grinning goofily around a mouth full of braces.

But for Q he only takes one thing off the rack and holds it up. It's a pink t-shirt that proudly proclaims, 'Kimmy the Pink Ranger' with a picture of some sort of pink helmet. Chortling to himself, the twenty-something in a sombre black suit chortles to himself as he holds it up in front of his chest and looks for a mirror.


There was an extremely practical reason for everything that Scott Summers did. Going along with Betsy and Lunair to Macy's was yet another one of these practical decisions. Scott prefers a business casual look when teaching classes, and he's got a new thresh of students coming in very soon. That means, new slacks, shirts, and polo's are in order.

Lunair and Elizabeth are clearly leading the pack, which means that Scott is hanging back with Roberto and Quentin. Roberto was part of the reason he'd come - sometimes, broad daylight and public spaces can be the best places to have a quiet conversation regarding strategy, because the normals and spies don't tend to expect a conversation like that to go down in the home goods department.

As for Quentin…

Scott watches as the man heads off toward the douchebag/hipster section and perks an eyebrow behind his ruby 'sunglasses'. "Really?"


And Lunair can't shoot, dubstep or portal anything in here. She normally buys her clothes online or in odd stores. Because Lunair is secretly part art student. She's a goth lolita or elegant lolita frill monster (Velociraptors have frills. They give you power. True facts). But this is educational and pretty fun. She likes people and Psylocke and the group among them. She looks around, eyes a little wide. She never really thought of going to Macy's. Huh.

"I see. High fashion? And um, okay, thank you. That's kind of you." She's well mannered for as socially impaired as she is. "And big boots, huh. I see," This is a bit surprising. But Lunair nods. She seems quietly amused as Quentin branches off. "He seems to be into different stuff." She can't quite figure the guy out. "So is the boots thing why some people wear high heels into a fight?"


Roberto da Costa politely declined Betsy's generous offer to lend him a credit card, just as he politely declined the Titans' offer to send in their resident sorceror. He'll be perfectly content to replace his belongings his own way. No lingering chaos magic fields, no complications when Betsy inadvertently hits her limit with just one more designer handbag. Honestly: it's like people forget he has his own resources!

He didn't, however, decline the offer of a group shopping trip. Pretty much the only thing he can think of that will make furniture shopping interesting is going with a gaggle of Xavierites. Whether the department store is left standing when they leave? Not his problem.

He's standing in the aisle near Scott, eying Quentin's find skeptically. He remembers a pink ranger or two, but 'Kimmy' was before his time. Lord knows he isn't fool enough to follow the girls into the shoe section.


A pleasant musical baritone voice is singing "Robots are delicious, metal flavored love, silver lips like candy, keep my robot handy, I have what my mechanic needs, when it comes to love", and a human-looking, ordinary human-looking, Mike Drakos is in the section with the cheap costume jewelry, picking through the 'mad bling' label; he grins to himself when he sees Roberto and hangs a bunch of the garish, ugly things around his neck, where they hang against his black tee-shirt as if uncomfortably on display. The price tags are still on. He picks up another one or two, and walks over.

"Hey, 'Berto, you're here, what's the occasion?"

Mike's actually picking up the junky metal because it contains traces of stuff that is otherwise hard to find. But don't tell Macy's that.


Betsy glances back as Quentin veers off, a slight click of her tongue is given as she focuses upon Lunair. "Different stuff indeed, the students will never respect him if he pops in the classroom wearing an Angry Kitty meme shirt." The thought of that actually makes her giggle, stopping only once they reach the threshold of the shoe department.

"Personally, my darling, I just see those people who manage to get into a fight wearing heels in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not to mention, high heels and boots are two different animals." She tugs Lunair away from the trainers and the heels, towards the more sketchier side of Macy's that would fit any goth girl at an extremely high price. "Black boots. High enough to provide good ankle support and to give someone a double take in good taste of footwear and make them green with envy." She lets go now, reaching for a pair of knee high boots that lace all the way towards the top, with added buckles for decor. She curls her fingers into a fist to knock near the front of the shoe then squeezes, testing if they were steel toed or not.

And they were.

"What do you think of these? Steel toe, still fashion forward if you're into the dark and dreary." An ear quirks to Mike's singing, which actually makes her smile. Not a hard feat, but often times rare.


Turning to look towards Scott and Sunspot, Quentin's smirk is a terribly amused thing as he holds up the pink shirt. He turns back to the mirror, "C'mon man, you remember. She was the hot one." As he says this he casually slinfs the t-shirt over his shoulder, the coat hanger being held by a finger as he starts after them, following along in the wake of the other more masculine individuals in this particular shopping trip.


"Honestly, Quentin." Scott shakes his head. "I don't remember." After all, Scott never was much for television. He was always studying, or working on cars, or training in the flight simulator program. Sure, someone may have caught him slipping an episode of Magnum P.I. once or twice, but… that's the brunt of it.

Scott watches as Lunair and Elizabeth make for the shoe section. His eyebrows go upward again, and he casts a look back toward the fellows. "They'll be in there for a while," he warns dubiously. "Anyone have any idea where they sell specific brands?" He looks about, frowning at the signs that dangle from the ceiling. "Levi… they still sell Jordache? … what in the hell are 'Nudie Jeans'… Oh. There we are. Ralph Lauren." He glances back at the others. "A solid brand for working professionals."

Scott actually goes so far as to crack his knuckles. "Hey, Mike," he says in passing, while splitting off from the group to hit the Ralph Lauren section. This… won't take long.


Lunair seems happy for the company. She's getting to meet a few of the ones she hasn't run into and pauses. "What's a power Ranger?" She asks. Poor Lunair is pretty youthful and out of the loop, surely. And why are women and shoes so terrifying? She knows of a lady who heroically throws her shoes at bad guys but…

Eithe way, Lunair listens, looking around. And then Mike! She beams, and waves to the man. "And that's true," She remarks, following Betty into the dark side of the shoe section. Nancy would be proud. "That makes sense." She smiles. And then a blink. "Cool." She peers at the high boots. "They look nifty," She smiles again. "And Mike's here, too? Cool. Do you wear boots often?"


"Oi, Mike," 'Berto greets the slightly-less-mechanical-than-usual mutant. "You look like you should be singing 'Fancy.' Special occasion? Or just blinging it up because you can?"

Quentin gets a puzzled look. "I remember some hot ones. I don't remember Kimmy." He was only three when she left the show; that was a little early to be chasing skirts, even for Roberto.

Of course, neither Mike's pile of costume jewelry nor Quentin's nostalgia find causes the Brazilian quite the level of consternation as Scott's enthusiasm for Polo. He sort of gapes after the older man, looking as though he wants to stage an impromptu intervention, but eventually reconsiders. It's not as though he's likely to widen One-Eye's perspective. "I'm looking for couches, chairs. tables — anything the Nazis vaporized," he says instead, turning back to Mike. "Normally I think I'm supposed to be really picky and get million-dollar antique commodes, like a Bear Sterns exec, but honestly at this point I'm just looking for bulk and stuff that vaguely matches. Macy's will do."


Mike grins. "This pot metal is 60 percent lead, which means they shouldn't sell it, but it's also 10 percent tin, 10 percent silver, 6 percent gold, 5 percent iridium, .4 percent niobium, and the remainder is various other metals that would take too long to identify. It's really useful." He notices a display with "gold chains" and quirks an eyebrow. "Right, as if," and grabs the lot of them.

"Furniture is over that way, but I promise you won't like it," Mike says. Macys furniture comes in two flavors at this store: badly imitated antique, and art-masquerading-as-furniture.


Betsy smiles at Lunair's excitement. "Yes, Mike is here. I don't know the ol' fellow too well, Roberto neither, but hopefully here and today a good start, yes?" She glances back over to where she could hopefully see them, her mind reaching out to the others she could not. Not to pry or to prod, just to know that they were still there. They all came together unscathed, hopefully they'll leave the same way. Together. Unscathed is another story all together.

"I wear boots with my uniform.." She flips the current boot upside down, dragging her fingers along the ridges, then hands them off to Lunair for purchasing. "Buy them. But yes. The worst thing that could happen in the middle of a battle is a broken ankle. Minor injury, sure. But entirely inconvieniant. Do you see anything else you like? If not, we'll head to the trainers next, you'll probably need a good pair of tenny's if you're going to hang out when school is in session, wouldn't hurt to play sports with the students, it's great excercise." Like she would know.


Still strolling along now after Scott as the man wanders to the refined and preppified fashion of the fraternity boys, Quentin seems to already consider this shopping trip an unqualified success. He does pause a moment near some dockside shoes and crinkles his nose at them, then tells Scott idly. "The best part, of course, is that Elizabeth is paying for it." He holds the shirt out again, "Whatever happened to the actress, I wonder?" He slings the shirt back over his shoulder. "Probably on Lifetime."


Within moments, Scott returns with an arm full of clothing. He's got four pairs of slacks, two khaki, one gray, one a dark brown. He's got four polo shirts, all of them Ralph Lauren, various colors. He's got five collared shirts, and a couple of neck ties, all neatly folded and draped over his arm.

One might have almost suspected that he did some internet searches to find out exactly what he wanted, which completely spoils the 'fun' of looking around for something different. Such suspicion would have been absolutely accurate.

"Well, I'm finished," he says with satisfaction, before looking over at Quentin. "She may think she's paying for it, but this is being expensed to the school. It's entirely within guidelines, and I know that the Professor appreciates every legitimate expense he can manage. I suppose, if you asked nicely, he might let you have a look at last year's Profit and Loss Schedule. It's educational, to say the least." Beat. "Plus… I'm allowed to wear these clothes on dates."

Because everyone has clearly seen Scott Summers on a date lately. Perhaps it was the arrival of Rachel Summers that has him thinking about… dating.

"Lifetime is not a terrible channel, you know," he points out.


Lunair is like a puppy in a lot of ways. "Cool. I only know him a bit. And yeah," She nods. She sadly, doesn't have mind powers. But maybe that's for the better, to be entirely truthful.

Unscathed? Where's the fun in that? "And ah, I see. I usually have armored boots on," She offers. She carefully accepts the boots, and checks over their size. "That would suck," She frowns faintly. She looks around. She stands on her tiptoes, to get an even better view. "I should be good. I really don't wear heels much, and how many pairs of boots would I need…? Thigh high boots seem kind of intense," She offers. "And sure. I'm not sure what sport I'd try," Lunair admits. "Maybe Marksmanship or staff fighting." She's one of the college students.


"Way to crush my dreams, Mike," Roberto says with an exasperated sigh. One advantage of being fairly short is that you can't see far enough in a department store for your hopes to be snuffed from a distance — unless you happen to have a ray of sunshine like Drakos around. "Ah, well. It's good to get out of the house, anyway." 'Partially demolished' is left unsaid.

Betsy's mental contact will confirm that the gentlemen haven't gone far. Roberto's mind is roiling beneath the surface, though he seems externally relaxed. He even tries on a blazer, only to discover that it is of the 'circus tent' cut that's so popular in the States. "Maybe she did porn," he speculates offhand to Quentin, masking his disappointment. "Didn't some of the former Power Rangers end up in porn?"

Scott gets a long, incredulous look when he returns. For any number of reasons, really, but one in particular: "Scott. You are not allowed to wear those on dates," he says, his tone brooking no argument. "Teaching? Fine, whatever. But the point of a date is to impress the person you are with."


Mike looks over at Quentin, and says, "Amy Jo Johnson recently appearing on the series Flashpoint as a SRU policewoman. She is, if anything, more attractive in her current role."

Yes. Yes, 'Berto. Mike did just search wikipedia for that. It's not something he would otherwise follow. Of course, since Mike's wearing his human-skin today, he's coming off a bit like that guy on the gymnastics team who had the highly religious parents who wouldn't let him do anything that real kids do so all he did in his minimal spare time was watching television. Besides, that heap of ugly jewelry — who wears something that says "BLING" picked out in faux crystal anyway? — that's not the sign of a healthy mind.

Of course, if someone CAN read Mike's mind rather than his fashion sense, it's currently running two consciousness threads … one is a bug about the size of a moth, which is moving through the building scanning for something that will show up as a PING on its antennae. The other is suddenly surrounded by a complex web of metal of different kinds, with vision and sound somewhere in the background, as Mike searches for more of the unusually-sweet-salty feel of other metal like the stuff he's carrying.


"He.. seems.. strange. That Mike." Elizabeth couldn't help herself, she wasn't going to pick apart his brain right then and there in the store, but it was the surface thoughts that garnered her attention. She didn't move for a time, frozen still, a tiny flash of violet forming before her eyes which quickly snaps away as she just stops.

"Just two. In case one pair manages to get damaged. Always great to have a backup pair." It wasn't a forceful tug that she gave Lunair towards the trainers, it was a gentle guiding, in which she soon releases the lady to reach for a pair of New Balance with an overall black color, and a neon purple outline. "Why not take both? It'll look good on your transcripts." The talk of the Power Rangers were largely ignored, since Betsy really couldn't hear -that- far. She -would- have had some choice words about the Lifetime Television Network, but thankfully she didn't hear it come from Scott's mouth.

A hand lifts to attempt to flag down a salesman (or woman), all the while glancing back towards Lunair to make sure she was settling in with shopping. "Marksmanship huh. Wonder if I'd be allowed to audit a time or two."


For those who might or might not be trying to read his mind, Quentin's is locked up rather like Fort Knox. Then again it might not be hard to guess what is going through his mind when Roberto makes his supposition. Quentin immediately reaches into his own back pocket and withdraws his iKord phone. With the sweep of a thumb he activates the screen and stands there nearby Scott and Sunspot, following them men blindly as he peruses the miracle that is 'teh intarnetz'. After a few moments a decidedly disappointed look touches the man's features as he says, "Only the green ranger. Ugh. No luck." And with that the phone goes away again.

Then Mike helps a brother out and he asks, "Seriously? May have to check it out."


Roberto is the next to receive Scott's ruby-lensed look. "I'll add a nice blazer or a jacket," he explains, as if this was clearly all that good date attire needed. It's with a somewhat insulted expression that he frowns. "Well, if you have any 'recommendations'…" He gestures around with his free hand. "Be my guest."

One of Mike's assorted necklaces gets an odd look next. "Mike… what on Earth does 'YOLO' mean?"

All this talk of pornography gets largely ignored. These were not his students, after all. There might be a touch of disapproval on his face, but that's all.


Lunair nods. "He's - nice though. I think I confused him once," She admits. Even Lunair pauses when she considers Mike. "Okay," Lunair will pick up a second pair and let herself get guided along. She peers at the trainers and picks them up. "I could. I just try not to overload myself," She admits. And mercifully, Lunair is away from the TV conversation herself. "Audit a time or two?"

That phrase confuses Lunair a little. She seems to have trouble emoting, although she's listening attentively. She peers at the size of the shoe. "I should probably try this on," She murmurs. "Are you going to grab any shoes?" She seems curious. She's grateful enough for the time spent here. "And both… Hm. yeah, probably." Grin. "I guess I should do more than part time and stop with the odd jobs."


Roberto shakes his head slowly and lets out a sigh. "Why do I even bother owning a smartphone?" he asks Mike wryly. "Good news, then, Quentin. Or bad news? Depends on how exclusive you expected to be, I guess." The idea of 8-year-old Quentin the hapless romantic, pining away for 2.5 kids and a hot pink Barbie sedan with his devoted Ranger wife, immediately brings a teasing grin to his face.

Scott's disapproval at that line of conversation, though, is nothing compared to what's getting thrown back at him. "A blazer over a polo. And let me guess, you bought the blazer at a place like this?" Roberto says, gesturing at the one he briefly considered. "Scott, you… you may be beyond my ability to help. You should find a friend with a decent sense of personal style, preferably female or gay, and just let them pick something out for you. They may take you to unfamiliar places. There may be terrible house music. But in the end, you'll thank them."


No more metal found… Mike rescans the last few seconds of speech and laughs at Roberto's answer. He considers Scott's question.

"It means 'You Only Live Once' which apparently means, go do stupid, dangerous, ignorant things. Been there, done that, died, didn't like it at all," Mike answers. Yeah, YOLO doesn't necessarily apply to Mutants.

He calls the moth back to him because there's no trace of whatever it wants to find, and it lands on his left ear, and curls itself around the ear like an ear-cuff.


Getting a slightly distracted look, Quentin lifts his chin and hnhs to himself. He turns and nods to Scott. "Hey, I'm going to go get this and wait on one of those benches out front people watch. I'll catch up with you guys when you head on out." As he says this he's already backing up and away. He snaps out a quick salute towards Sunspot and Mike, "Seeyas." And having said that he turns around to walk towards the cash registers.


Quentin Quire leaves back to Midtown Manhattan


"I mean he seems nice, sure. But.." She waves her hand in front of her face, not insinuating that he was all jacked up in the head, but that he was all over from what she saw. "I guess it's good to not overload yourself, there are times when I do feel the need to.." She shrugs a little, picking up another pair of shoes of the purple persuation, tucking those under her arm as well. The little baggage was soon relieved as a sales person arrives to take the shoes out of her hands, and gestures towards Lunair to have a seat to try the pair that she has on.

"Audit. Like, sit in on a class but not participate. To watch and observe I believe. I'm not sure as to how it would work since it would be my first time doing such a thing." She smiles half heartedly, her eyes shifting towards where the men may be currently stationed at. Since Scott was the easiest target for her (being in his brain before and all), she directs her words towards him.

~You need new shoes.~ Taunt. Taunt.


"Huh." Scott gives Mike an absolutely disbelieving look. "Sounds like an old James Bond title." He then shakes his head, frowning. "Let me guess, this is some stupid thing that teenagers are saying these days?" Under his breath, he murmurs, "This is the kind of crap that gets kids hooked on drugs."

Back to Roberto, Scott lifts an eyebrow. "Well, yeah, probably," he answers. In fact, he did buy his last blazer at a place like this, and that was… six years ago. Roberto's next suggestion, however, has him frowning doubtfully. "Roberto, you disappoint me. If you think I'm 'beyond your help', then I challenge you to prove otherwise." Scott always is trying to push his teammates to be better, after all. "Excuse me."

Scott steps aside, going up to a counter so that he can pay for his items… using the Xavier Institute's Platinum Chase Visa, of course. He returns in short order with his apparently designated 'work clothes' in a bag. "Lead the way, my friend." A quick nod is given toward Quentin as he departs, but as soon as there's a voice in his mind, he darts his lensed gaze toward Psylocke. "I do not," he counters verbally.


Lunair ohs. She nods. "Relax?" She inclines her head a little. She will move to have a seat, to try the shoes she has on. "Yeah," She offers quietly. There's something different about Mike. She sits, pulls off her shoe and starts to slip the trainers on, after pulling the stuffing out.

"Ooh. I see," She smiles. "I don't think anyone would mind," She remarks. Lunair herself certainly doesn't. "I wonder if we even have a set up for that class," She considers. "Do you teach?" She asks quietly. Lunair seems curious, but friendly enough about it. And she is unaware of Scott or anyone else getting b-mail (that's Brain Mail). It's what telepaths send you.


"Life lessons from a child actor," Sunspot tacks on to Mike's explanation of 'YOLO.' "Drake took the 'Carpe Diem' thing from Dead Poets Society and rebooted it, just like Pharell did with the Hokey Pokey." Most of these proper nouns are likely to fly right over Scott's head, but at least 'Berto is trying. And speaking of trying… "Well, you're built slim, right? Department store blazers are cut to flop loose so they don't look as bad on bigger dudes. You should go to Armani or Express or H&M — one of those places that have a little more style and carry stuff in a European cut. You definitely shouldn't wear a polo shirt. That's… that's making a statement you don't want to make."


Mike ignores the issues of style. He's got his own sense of style, and besides, he usually fakes his clothes by weaving them from different metals and a few of the synthetics that respond to his technomantic control. Nobody cuts regular clothes for the taper he has anyway, and they wear out so fast.

"I'm buying the metal myself, since it's not for anything but my own purposes," Mike offers, so that nobody will try to pay for him. He picks up a puka-shell necklace — a mix of plastic, glass, and real calcium carbonate shells — and adds that to the heap that he presents to the cashier. Once he pays he puts on the puka necklace. The other, ugly stuff goes into a bag to eat later.


~You do, just look at your feet.~

Surely, if she were able to manipulate Scott as she thinks she could, he would look down to see a pair of beat up loafers with socks stained with green and brown. That ungodly sight would be coupled with feet that burst from the seams of both loafer and sock alike; yellow-green toenails protruding and.. was that a fly?

~Perhaps a pedicure is in order too?~

Whether she had gotten through to Scott, she figures it was enough, then goes back to appealing to Lunair's taste, remembering something the woman had said and replying belatedly, as it were. "There really isn't anything wrong with the odd jobs. If it helps to keep the student loans down, by all means. Just remember to have time to study. And bring a friend along with you, cause it doesn't hurt to ask for help and they may consider it as fun." As if! She's not even a teacher!

"But me teach? No. I'd be fired after the week is out. And really, if there's no set up for the class, perhaps you could ask the Professor for one? Or maybe start a Marksmanship club, or whatever it is college students dabble in now a days." Booze. They dabble in booze.

As the salesperson returns with the shoes she picked out for herself in boxes, she takes them to set them upon the bench near Lunair. "How are they fitting? If they're good, we can go and pay. But clothes? I'd rather online shop, or do imported. Lovely pair of shops in London that you need to see."


Surprisingly, Scott seems to be listening. His attention is fully upon Roberto, not even acknowledging the fact that he answered Betsy's B-Mail with spoken word. "I am," he agrees, in regard to his build. "Armani, and Express, I've heard of those stores. But… H&M?" He shakes his head. "Sounds like a bad name for a night club. And what's wrong with polo shirts?" He's been wearing polo shirts his entire life!

More B-Mail comes his way. Scott looks down and… and his mouth opens in a gasp. He does, indeed, see something entirely different. He doesn't see a pair of nice dress shoes and sharp black socks with the funky diamond patterns on them. He sees exactly what he was manipulated to see. Then he notices the feet… and a rueful smirk forms on his face.

~I'll be caught dead before I pay for a pedicure. I take good care of my feet, Elizabeth. I take care of them.~

A bit more tact is presented this time, it seems.


Roberto is completely unaware of any mucking around that's happening in anyone's head, so he's perplexed when Scott seems to zone out, staring at his own feet. The Brazilian has a fairly relaxed attitude toward psychics, but then, the students in his age cohort were very careful about how they used their powers on each other. No trading waking nightmares, or anything like that.

He just does his best to cut through whatever daze is occupying the bespectacled man, dipping his head and trying to catch his eye (so to speak). "I don't name these places. Personally, I think 'Express Men' sounds like a stamina problem. But H&M is the place to go if you need date clothes on a budget." The wealthy heir is speaking more from theory than practice, of course. A budget, to him, is that profit/loss schedule Scott mentioned earlier.

Straightening back up, he continues: "Polo shirts are only 'style' for frat boys. On everyone else they're so boring as to be invisible."


Mike takes advantage of the lesson on Style to search for places with furniture, and comes up with two or three that he can show to Roberto. That should make up for his quashing the man from buying the Wrong Things at Macy's.


Lunair listens. She looks up to Betty and smiles faintly. "Yeah, thank you. And ooh. Fair enough," She nods. "We could do that." Sadly, Lunair is not nearly old enough for booze. And weirdly, Lunair HAS cut down on the mercenary stuff. "I'll see. A lot of my classes are off-campus or stuff. Not a whole ton of botany," She grins. She also figures it's better not to get drunk. Nudity rays+dubstep=havoc!

Lunair wriggles her toes in the shoes. "Really? I'd love to go sometime." Lunair is fairly well off. And B-Mail is being exchanged. She pauses. "I wonder how the guys are doing? And yup! These fit. Sometimes my feet are kind of narrow."


The mental sparring was done. Betsy had made a funny for herself and her life was now complete. What would really make this complete? If Lunair gets those shoes that she currently has on her feet. "We're definately going to go jogging eventually. Central park is the bees knees."

Still, she was distracted, her brow lowering as she reaches into her back pocket to retrieve a debit card and gesture towards the register. "Pay for this will you my darling?" She says to the saleswoman. "And have my items shipped to my billing address." Which was not Xaviers. One of those kids might steal it! Or not, she just likes getting her packages when they arrive.

~Something has come up my darlings.~ She would say to the lot of them if they let her speak towards them, bmail. ~I'll be seeing you all shortly.~

Betsy doesn't take the route of the door, instead she goes right into the dressing room, using the shadow of the clothes that hung there discarded to transport towards whatever grabbed her attention.


Scott does laugh at Roberto's joke, smirking a bit. "Stamina problem. Right," he says. He then takes a look down at his own polo shirt and frowns. "I was never in a fraternity," he points out, but whatever else he was going to say is suddenly interrupted by the chirping of his cell phone. He retrieves it, eyes a text message, then frowns. "Perhaps we can meet there in an hour. Maybe two. For now, I've got to go." He pockets the phone, offers a nod to the others, then heads for the nearest escalator.

Must be some kind of X-Men: Blue Team shit going on.


"Sure thing," Lunair smiles. "I like it there." Lunair will slip off the shoes, and put them back into the box. "I'll go with these, then," She nods. Lunair pauses. Getting mail is awesome! Lunair likes getting mail. Although, school packages often have to get sorted. Lunair looks quietly concerned at Betsy's distraction. She waves as the other woman goes. With that, she'll quietly go to pay for her shoes and peeks out.

The guys are over there? She'll wave to Mike and them if she can see them.


Roberto isn't really upset about not being able to pick anything up here. He came more for the company than the shopping, anyway; he felt the need for a distraction from his household woes more than a solution to them. But since the group is starting to disperse, he'll be only too happy to join Mike on a jaunt to a more promising venue. He gives Scott and Betsy a relaxed wave, then beckons Lunair over. "Want to help me pick out some new furniture?" he asks her. "On the way, I can tell you how the last set got vaporized." He smirks with easy good humor.


Mike waits for Lune to join them, and will lead them the four blocks to DwellStudio. On the way, he might discuss how polo shirts (as opposed to the brand-named Polo shirts) are an excellent intermediary between the informal tee-shirt and the formal dress-shirt, but that they are in general not cut in a way that truly flatters the individual wearer, etc. etc. Robots don't shut up sometimes.


Lunair will follow along. "Sure! And uhm, vaporized? Yikes." Lunair looks a bit startled by that. She will listen in and join them. And she seems fine with Mike being chatty.

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