Lizbeth stood in front of a hole-in-the-wall boutique, browsing some clearance-sale knickknacks on a table. A little smirk lit her face as she plucked a glass whale out of the mess. It looked more like a blob than a whale, but it was recognizable. As she turned it over in her hands, her nail nicked it, leaving a deep, plainly visible scratch. Oops. Poor whale.

She hurriedly put it back on the table, silently cursing her nails ("Talons," her mother would say). And while she was at it, she silently cursed her wings. And her harpy blood. It was nice to be different - but not that different. It was nothing but a hassle. The talons had to be blunted so she wouldn't scratch things, her wings had to be hidden so no one would see them. Like now- her heavy, dark red jacket mostly hid the protrusions that were her wings, but didn't entirely conceal them.

Pursing her (abundantly lip-glossed) lips, she circled the table, looking for things to touch that she wouldn't ruin.

Mmm, clearance.
Mmm, shiny things.

Mortimer, who had always been fastidiously neat (if a little dark in appearance) felt rather odd with his hair spiked like this. It was an inexpert hairstyle, more fluffy than actually spiky, and fell a few yards short of 'cool'. He'd already been poked fun at once, so he was keeping his head down as he browsed the table.
Oooh, glass whale...(no, the thought 'why would anyone make a glass whale?' never crossed his mind). But it was scratched.
"Poor whale." he murmured.

Lizbeth gave a little jolt when he picked it up - he hadn't seen her scratch it, had he?... Well, she hadn't done it on purpose...

"Hm?" she turned to face him, feigning innocence. "What's this about a whale?"
The girl has no qualms about talking to complete strangers.
Even the ones with weird hair.

"It's scratched." He held it up so she could see.
"That's too bad. It's kind of pretty."
He tilted his head, looking closely at it.
"Not pretty in a whale way, but in an amorphous kind of way."

"Ohhh. Yeah. I see what you mean," Lizbeth nodded, peering at the glob of glass for a moment before turning her attention back to the various bits of pretty junk on the table. She ran her fingers over some little ornaments, relaxing. She wasn't in trouble,.. not that it would be real trouble, but still. She'd avoid it if she could.

Mort frowned. His only pleasant human (heh) interaction of the day was turning away from him. He clasped his hands together, then let them go, gathering his courage.
"Um...what's your name?"

She blinked at him, then smiled pleasantly.
"Lizbeth Aubrect," she said, pausing a moment before continuing with, "What's yours?" and stepping away from the table, giving him her full attention.

"Elizabeth?" he looked confused. He wished people would enunciate.
"I'm, uh...Mortimer Hernandez. Um..."
He wished she wasn't looking at him. It made him confused. He didn't know what talk about.
"So. Why are you here?"

"No, no, no. It's Lizbeth," she corrected hurriedly. "Two syllables."
Leave it to her parents to pick a name as mixed-up as she was...
Lizbeth grinned at him. "Do you mean why am I here in the mall, or why am I here, as in, existence?"
She's only teasing - mostly because he's just begging for her to poke fun at him.

"Oh, Lizbeth." Blink. Well, that was unusual. "That's a cool name."
He squirmed (mentally), thinking leave it to me to ask the stupidest question ever.
"Oh, uh..." an uncomfortable laugh "Whichever."

She made a show of thinking over the question, before she finally gave a shrug and answered.
"I'm here - in the mall - because it's something to do," she said. "Just sort of... wandering around. Hoping to find interesting things to look at,.. people to meet. You know. Stuff. How about you?"

"Oh, yeah, stuff." he replied, feeling more foolish as the seconds wore on.
"Um, pretty much the same thing. I was hoping to get some incense for my room. Our apartment smells really weird." Erk. Oops. "You probably didn't want to know that. Sorry."

"Incense." Blink. He was shopping for incense. How... peculiar. "That stuff smokes all over the place... I like scented candles better, myself. Or those plug-in air freshener things."
She tilted her head to one side, smiling in a puzzled sort of way.
"No worries." It can't smell any worse than wet feathers.

"Well, that's the point. To smoke all over the place."
He shrugged.
"I have candles. They're not very strong, though. As for air fresheners...I wouldn't be surprised if they turn out to be carcinogenic."

"And incense smoke wouldn't be?" Lizbeth said innocently, smirking at him. She stepped back towards the table, her eye suddenly caught by a tiny stuffed giraffe. She began toying with it, tossing it from hand to hand - it was half-full of beans, or pvc pellets. Or whatever they use to fill small stuffed animals now. "... Is the smell in your apartment strong enough that you really need to drown it in smoke?"

"It is. But at least it's natural carcinogens, not chemical ones. I don't buy cigarettes from drugstores, either--not big on tar. Cancer's okay, but not chemical air fresheners or tar. I draw lines in weird places."
His eyes followed the giraffe, mesmerized.
"...yeah. It's a really strong smell."

Yes, you do, she agreed silently.
"What does it smell of?" Lizbeth asked, tossing the giraffe more quickly. The she frowned slightly, stopped, and peered at him. "Waitasec. How old are you?..."

"Oh, um--"
Saying blood would be a bad idea, he thought. He was grateful for the interruption, though that didn't sound like a topic that was going anywhere good, either.
"Seventeen."

"Really? Okay." He doesn't look seventeen. Heh. Even if he did want to he couldn't buy cigarettes from a drugstore. "Just wonderng. Um,... what was I saying a second ago? I don't remember."

"Let me guess. You thought I was fourteen. Everyone says that."
A wide and very false grin.
"I don't remember. How old are you?"

"Not fourteen, exactly,... you just don't look like you're seventeen," she mused. "I'm seventeen as well."
Her expression brightened.
"Oh. Now I remember. I was asking you what made your apartment smell so bad."

"Well..."
He decided on giving her part of the truth.
"There's some bad pipes. They always end up leaking somewhere inside the ceiling, and then going stale. Actually, forget cancer, I'm surprised we're not dead of the mold."

"Oh, yuck," she wrinkled her nose. "Mold. I can see why you'd want to drown that in smoke."

Lizbeth dropped her gaze for a moment to look at the giraffe. It was rather cute,.. and it was on sale. Maybe she'd buy it. It's not every day you find a stuffed giraffe for half price.

"Candles just don't cut it, as much as I like them."
A shrug.
"I'm looking into on-campus housing, but I don't think I'll be allowed."

"Why wouldn't you be allowed?" Lizbeth asked, still toying with the giraffe and beginning to move inside the store, towards the counter. "Is it something with age,.. or do you just have a reputation for trashing apartments?"

"I don't trash apartments!" he snapped, offended. "My sister just wants me to stay with her is all."

"Kidding! I was kidding," Lizbeth said quickly, holding up her hands (one still clutching the stuffed giraffe) in a pacifying gesture. Her wings twitched violently beneath her jacket, but as they were bound flat, it just looked like she'd shrugged. "Ah - so you'd be staying for your sister?" She assumed he had a much younger sister. "That's nice of you."

"You could put it that way." He tilted his head. "It's more that if she doesn't want me to leave, I can't leave."
He sighed. He couldn't help feeling sorry for himself every once in a while. Cass was just so weird.

"...Would you mind explaining that a bit?" she asked, puzzled. Maybe his sister was one of those little brats who has a tantrum if they don't get what they want...? "I mean,.. can't your parents do anything about it? You shouldn't let her stop you if you want to do something."

He shrugged on a careful nonchalance; people always said oh in such a funny way when he told them, and he felt rather uncomfortable.
"My parents are dead. I live with my sister. She's kind of putting me through school, so I don't argue much."

Lizbeth blinked, mentally giving herself a dig in the ribs and muttering Way to go, genius, though there was no way she could have known. Outwardly, she bit her lip and smiled apologetically, her gaze fluttering between the floor, and anywhere but Mort.
"Oh, uh... I - I'm sorry," she said hesitantly. "... Um,... yeah. If she's putting you through school, then I guess,... I guess it's a fair exchange..."

Mort grinned wryly.
"It's not such a big deal. The apartment is so horrible that I'd like to live elsewhere, but other than that, I really have no problems."

"Ah. Okay," she nodded, managing a smile. "Well, good luck with convincing your sister to let you move, anyway."
She nodded to the interior of the boutique. "Wait for me a second?" Lizbeth wanted to buy the beanbag giraffe, but she wanted to continue talking to Mort as well. He hadn't seemed to be in a hurry, and she'd like the company, if he could stick around.

"..."
He stared blankly at her a moment. Then he blinked.
"Sure."
Huh. Well, that was new.

"Great."
She flashed him a smile and proceeded to the counter. She returned with the giraffe in a plastic bag,.. but, deciding that was unfair to the giraffe, she put it in her jacket pocket with its head and front legs hanging out.
"You were... looking for incense, right?" Lizbeth said. "There's some at the back of the store, under those paper lantern things."

"Oh." he returned the smile, edging towards the back of the store.
"Too bad there wasn't any on sale. I don't have a lot of pocket money. Oh well, it's worth it."
But he should be making conversation with the girl who'd suddenly decided she wanted his company. What do you talk about with a complete stranger (who isn't cutting bits off, healing, or interrogating you), anyway?
"What's your favorite movie?"

"Hm..."
Lizbeth gazed at the ceiling as she thought about an answer.
"Probably,.. oh, I don't know. That's a tough question. It's probably a toss-up between 'Benny & Joon', and 'The Goonies'... and 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off'. How about you? What's your favorite?"

"I like...Blade Runner. And, um...War of the Worlds. The old one."
He shuffled through small packets of incense, sniffing at the seals to see how they smelled.
"I never get anything but sandalwood, but I always think I'm going to find something better."

"I've never heard of those movies," she shook her head, with a sheepish grin. "...Sandalwood's good. But the incense really doesn't smell anything like the real thing, whether it's all-natural or not." Lizbeth meandered over to a row of colored candles, picking them up and giving each a sniff. Absentmindedly, she began stacking them into a little tower.

"I've never smelled the real thing."
He picked up a packet, idly tilting it back and forth between two fingers as he watched Lizbeth's growing candle tower.
"War of the Worlds is pretty famous. Anyway, I've never heard of Benny and Joon."