primadonna | open, exploring

[GABRIEL]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: auto; font-size: 9.2pt; font-family:arial; line-height: 125%; text-align:justify; width: 490px"]The sudden shattering of a pane of glass had caught his immediate attention, and the boy had found himself on the boardwalk heading over to where Cat and Mike were. Gabriel then found that they were addressing one of the newer members, who had apparently broken the store door to access the inside. A part of him was tempted to ask why the place would have to be boarded up in the first place. Was keeping the town nice and presentable really a top priority for the leader? Considering they weren't afraid to get their hands dirty, that would have been surprising to hear. The buildings were aleady worn and torn in the first place, so he didn't understand why Catalyst would care whether the doors were shattered or not. Maybe it was a safety issue or something, though he wasn't sure.

The teenager slightly pursed his lips and fixed his attention onto the store itself. It looked pristine and perfectly in its place, fitting for an establishment that had survived the recklessness and vandalisms of the new era. It was something that Gabriel had hardly seen in the city, so he was naturally intrigued and found himself stepped into the store. "Wow..." He breathed. Wide, blue eyes scanned the racks and shelves until he came across a collection of baseball caps. They came in a variety of colors and designs. He chose one with a simple embroidery of a mountain range on its front and observed it in his hands. Huh, he supposed he never really wore hats before as a stylistic choice. He liked the way these looked, though. Perhaps Gabe would just have to take a few of these with him before the doors were boarded up.

[OLLIE.]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth; width: 500px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; line-height: 14px; font-size: 9.5pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]Angel is a misandrist, plain and simple. her distrust and overall distaste towards men was deep-rooted in her daddy issues, being raised solely around women. the men she was around were criminals, creeps, made no effort to protect anyone other than themselves. The women in their life? They were bitches, property. She'd even been less than fortunate to stumble across those who sold off women from sex and abuse. Now, maybe it was a bit close-minded, but she didn't mind staying in a bubble in which she was familiar with. She'd done pretty good at avoiding them, having minimal conversations. Peers, bastards she worked with, but definitely not friends. That is until Michael makes his grand appearance. She thinks she saw him around, though she doesn't remember, doesn't care.

"Was vandalism," She corrects, rolling her eyes. "What's it to you anyway, short stop?" She obviously didn't know what the 'insult' meant, was too distracted to care. Since Michael was the only one here, at least at that moment, she needed input. She holds up the hoodie that sports the city name in bold letters. It wasn't the Badlands, that was for sure. Exposed. "What do you think? Too much?" She sighs, placing the hoodie back on the rack, but to face her just in case. "Everything's the same around here. Where's the Hollisters? The Forever21s?" She'd assume he'd be old enough to know what that is, right? Her generation didn't care too much about upholding their appearance, only rotating their outfits once a year. People around Michael's age, though, they'd get it, right? Except for him. He seemed a little more than rough around the edges. She could tell he's seen some things, hopefully the nearest mall if that were possible.

Cat. It seems as anywhere she is, they seem to turn up. She doubts it's by accident, that even though they try to keep their expression indifferent they are drawn towards her presence. If they realize it now, they would soon enough. "You could call it that," her lips pull upwards in a wry smile, the mood killed by their demands. "Get one of your creepy men to do it. I have things to do" What those things were would be open to interpretation. She'd hope whatever she'd have to do would include Cat. Maybe they could board up the window together, and she could find out a way to dismantle their relationship with Gav. It'll take some work, but she's patient.

Gabe shows up. Again, she thinks she's seen him around. She's a little softer on the boys of her generation and Gabe is doe eyed and enthralled in the world around him. "You should keep it," she suggests as finally, she decides on the hoodie she was first looking at. It's better than what she sports now. With no forethought of the crowd before her, she lifts the hoodie she wears now over her head throwing it aside. It at least makes revelation to a tattered cami top rather than a bra, and she's quick to throw her new attire over her head It's still loose; but not as loose as the one she wore earlier. "How's it look?" She asks the other three, though her hope in approval lies with Cat.

[gavril l.]

[align=center]

Immigrants,
we get the job done. 

[B][I]Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?

Enter the foreigner. The sight of the more...expected beach attire, touristy or not, caused him to scrunch up his nose. He stood near Cat and hadn't really made himself known but he clearly had an opinion. After another glance around the shop, he spoke to nobody in particular [b]"People wear this stuff?" Gav's attire was simple: when it's cold he wears sweatshirt, jacket, jeans and in the summer shorts and maybe a shirt. None of these things caught his eye, maybe a hat but it was unlikely.

His usual choice in hat, if he wore one, was a beanie. However he walked over to stand near Gabe, a cap catching his attention. The Romanian grabbed a slightly purple red cap, pushing his hair back as he put it on so his bangs weren't in his eyes. It had a design on it down near the visor, but he didn't care. His gaze went to Angel when she asked for opinions on the sweatshirt she put on and shrugs "Other one looked better" he answered, though he had already made his opinion on the clothing.

"[i]Iubițel" he was talking to Cat - the word was Romanian - he was trying to get their attention. He slid a lighter or two that he noticed in his back pocket just for...personal cautious measures. Once gaining Cat's attention, a tiny grin appeared on his face "Does it look okay?"

[color=transparent]thes code

[CATALYST]

[align=center][table]

[MICHAEL.]

[align=center]

[div style="borderwidth; width: 400px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; color: #4B3E2D; line-height: 14px; font-size: 11pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, profanity, violence, religion

Mike shot Cat a rather disagreeable look, knowing exactly what the leader was referring to, though not really wanting to explain it to anyone. The tension between the two was probably not the greatest thing, and he wasn't all that happy that Cat was in this space with him, honestly leaving seemed like a decent option, though it would be rude, and a bit pointless to do that now.

At least someone else was going to board it up, not him. He'd spent quite a lot of time fixing shit up, and he was thoroughly tired by it. Then again, everything he did was exhausting these days, especially with no weapons (not that he actually needed them, but that wasn't the point.) Dark eyes followed the movements of the people, flickering to Gabe as he arrived on the scene looking like a star struck puppy.

Honestly, Gabe was a decent kid, didn't really belong in the Badlands, but for that mattered did Mike? He was currently in deep shit for being too violent, so... some could argue that he didn't belong here either. Though where else he fucking belonged was beyond him. As Angel spoke Mike coughed, trying, oh so hard to stifle the chuckle that wanted to burst from his lips, unsuccessfully.

His dower face turned from a glower to a bit of a grin, her insult wasn't well placed, but the effort was appreciated. "More of a second baseman myself." Was Michael's response. It would be lost on the younger generation who probably had not followed baseball before the blackout, or actually been alive before the blackout either.

"Seems to me that you're busy vandalizing." He shot back, though his grim demeanor was a lot less intimidating, his arms were still crossed, but he was no longer stiff and annoyed, more relaxed and amused. It was a change in his appearance, but a good one, most would argue, though he didn't know if he liked his laid back self all that much.

Mike looked away as she changed, a force of habit, and only looked back when she asked what Cat thought, he was sure it wasn't his opinion that she wanted, but eh, he'd give it anyways. "It's decent." He shrugged, honestly, fashion didn't matter all that much to him, he preferred practicality, and it seemed like the hoodie was a better fit for her, and if that was something she liked, well, why not?

Gav, asking Cat their opinion on a hat, no, no, it was not a look, well not in Mike's mind. He wasn't a fan of hats anyways, they usually seemed pointless, then again, who was he to judge? He wasn't some connoisseur of fashion. The man quirked an eyebrow, and half a thought sprung to his mind as his eyes caught on something tucked behind a number of items, definitely miscategorized.

Grabbing the mildly distressed jean camo jacket quickly, his eyes moved to another rack of clothing, and with a furrowed brow he glanced at Angel for a moment trying to gauge her size. Pulling a tank top off the rack, he paired them together and nodded to himself. He held the two items out to Angel, "Try this," He offered, now if only he could find a good pair of shoes...

God he sounded like his wife, subconsciously he crossed himself with his free hand.

[OLLIE.]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth; width: 500px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; line-height: 14px; font-size: 9.5pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]Angel's old habits associated her with the wrong people, nearly got her killed, and yet, the first chance she gets to snoop around the old souveiner shops she takes it.

It's not as if she's without protection. Once Cat is positive that she could handle her own, they allow her the opportunity she wield her weapons of choice, her favorite being the pistol that was once her mother's, the mace secretly secured in her boot if bullets were to run short or someone managed to take away her first option during a scuffle. She'd also had a taser, a pretty and pink accommodation and last alternative say if the mace hadn't effect, but someone Kimberly Bennett, was the someone she assumed took it from her.

She needed a new taser, if plausible, and some clothes anything to get her out of these sweatpants two sizes big for her and this hoodie that smells as if it came from the deepest depths of an old thrift shop, and the most disappointing part of all is that it wasn't Cat's because instead, they allowed their sus soldiers whose eyes were on her chest more than her eyes to offer her clothes that she didn't care because well— it didn't smell like them. If it wasn't obvious, she was enthralled in Cat's beauty because who wouldn't be? She wasn't stupid, they obviously didn’t pay her any more mind than they did any newcomer however she was determined to revise that. Angelica was a self-insert when she wanted to be, burrowing herself in the lives of others like some disastrous flu. Already she was beginning to befriend Molly, that was a start; and if they had a boyfriend, so what? Angel was more drawn towards a challenge, driven towards Cat's prestige and she had the patience where it was needed.

Souvenir shops lined the boardwalk, some far more polished than others. For Kimberly and some of the other girls, that would have been a turn off, but for her? You could never be too sure. She sifts from souvenir shop to souvenir shop mostly stumbling upon the same things— gum? yes. a lighter? that might come handy in the future. key chains with her name, cool but no. a broken watch with the ocean behind its glass frame? maybe— the things that she thinks she might want, she stuffs in her book bag as she walks upon the next one much more polished than the first four she'd entered and it makes sense as to why. She approaches the door and yanks at it to no avail, the lock resisting its force.

"Figures." Stifling a sigh, her eyes sift towards the ground, scanning the pebbles that litter the ground until it lands on a misshaped yet sturdy rock. She plucks it off the ground, placing distance between herself and the shop as she rolls the rock between her hands and once there is distance, she chucks it, the shattering over glass rippling through the air. She's not concerned, though; just another trouble in paradise, right? No one would be concerned. She reaches her hand in to unlock the door, strolling right into her newfound treasures unaware that someone else was disturbed by the noise; instead her eyes are focused on the hoodie on the rack.

[MICHAEL.]

[align=center]

[div style="borderwidth; width: 400px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; color: #4B3E2D; line-height: 14px; font-size: 11pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, profanity, violence, religion

The man had been around the group for a while, he knew where to find most things, including extra clothing, though most people seemed to give him quite the wide berth these days, then again, he didn't really blame them, he'd been a bit of a loose cannon the past few months, unpredictable and violent. The man had heard the sound of glass breaking, and while he didn't really want to go out of his way, it was something that should be investigated.

He had walked slowly over to the storefronts, and arrived in time to see Angel enter, she was not the most familiar of face, though he'd been gone for two months, he didn't know any of the new people. Sighing softly he strode towards the door, leaning his large body against the frame and effectively blocking the exit. "You know, that's considered vandalism, and breaking and entering... trespassing too."

The former soldier wasn't sure if he should be putting himself in a position where he could easily lose his temper, but it was a chance to test his temper, see if all the work he'd been doing these past days to keep himself calm was paying off. He also didn't really feel like someone breaking a good piece of glass was all that great, glass wasn't the easiest thing to come by these days, and it still had a lot of uses.

He observed the girl curiously, doing a once-over of her oversized clothing, and overall appearance, before letting his eyes lazily look around as though he was not scrutinizing anything. He looked pretty relaxed, and while he had no weapons on him (part of Cat's stipulation for letting Mike go out and about), he was able to defend himself pretty well, the navy was good for something after all.

He wore a slightly fitted black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, the knees worn out a bit, but other than that good looking. And a pair of combat boots, his jeans pulled over the cuffs.

[CATALYST]

[align=center][table]