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Demon Marcus, Thursday

By the time Ada made it to work today, she was partially clothed in obnoxious shamrocks. Obnoxious because she'd liked that top, dammit, and buying new bras was always a pain in the butt.

Of course that meant that she was going to take advantage of people's misfortune. If she had to suffer, so did everyone else:

Not feeling lucky? Turn in your shamrocks for 10% off your purchase today.

Demon Marcus was open, and your shop assistant is using today as an excuse to pick out new summer clothes.

[OOC: OCD FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE}]

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"The island took my shirt," Dante said, wandering into Demon Marcus with a cup of coffee in one hand and a container of take-out in the other. "Is that a thing?"

He was still wearing pants, but not much else. Despite anything coming out of his mouth, he didn't particularly seem to be aware of it, so much.

"You too?" Ada appeared a moment later, wearing a sports-bra with a bunch of women's tops in her hands. "'M tryin' to find something the damn thing can't steal... those sticky shamrocks hurt when you peel 'em off!"

Dante shrugged one shoulder. "You cold?" he said. "'Cause I think you can rock the shamrock look just fine."

"The shamrock look ain't got no frontal support," she said dryly. "Makes walkin' around town a mite uncomfortable."

Plus, yes, she was cold. The wind made it feel chillier than it really was, at least for her.

"You need a new shirt? Or just wanna borrow my shamrocks?"

Not Dirty.

"Nah, I'll just pick one up when I get back home," Dante said.

Amounts of shits he gave about being shirtless: zero.

"Big shirt? Locking yourself in the toilet?"

Yes, well, not everyone was as impervious to cold or looked as ridiculously good shirtless as you, Dante.

"I was thinking something ridiculously complicated with laces or buttons or something, actually," she confessed. "Make the wind work for it, if it really wants my top."

Dante thought about it. "Seems like a good shot at getting the island to break your arm," he said.

Ada made a face. "'M doomed," she sighed. "Break 'm arm, or..." she gestured to the scales on her collarbone very prominently on display without a shirt (or glitter) to hide them. "Flash the whole dang town."

It was one thing to let people she trusted see them, or to play hide-in-plain sight with all her glitter, but Ada was still intensely private at heart.

"Maybe I can make a big shamrock shield to get me back 't the dorms? A shell of 'em, like a turtle?"

"Right."

Dante hadn't even thought about the damn scales. Fuck.

He winced a little. "Maybe hole out back until it gets dark?" he said. "Grab a blanket or something."

"Well, I made it here without gettin' arrested for indecent exposure," she joked, picking a nice, soft, green flannel shirt out of her pile and sliding it on; scales vanishing under the fabric as she buttoned it up. "Though I just about had a heart-attack when wind stole my shirt an' bra!"

"I'll just stay in here, nice an' cozy, until dark, and then use your blanket idea. Or lots a layers," she decided. "I'll be wearing so many blankets, I'll look like a burrito!"

"Cosy burrito," Dante mused. "You can always turn back into a sexy burrito afterwards."

That made sense somewhere.

"Is there such thing as a sexy burrito?" Ada laughed, "Like, is it a food? So good it's orgasmic? Or is 'sexy burrito' code for wearing a tiny towel or blanket and nothing else?"

Dante thought about it. He really did. Put his entire mind to it.

"Sexy burrito is when you still have the wrappings, but they're open just far enough to show some sideboob."

"Still too cold for sideboob, Dante, you're gonna have to wait for sexy burrito until the island remembers how to be warm," she informed him, shaking her head. "Maybe in, like, June."

She'd be the first to ditch the layers the second it stayed warm for more than five seconds. Seriously. Ada was of the 'less clothes the better' mindset.

"I'll be pining, but I guess I'll survive until then," Dante said, leaning against the counter. "Just be a safe burrito."

"I will be the safest burrito I can be," she promised, hopping up on the counter to sit next him. "Risk-adverse Ada-burrito, that's me."

Ada, you'd stolen a car last week while he watched. You weren't exactly the best at staying out of trouble.

She eyed his take-out container with interest. "You bring me lunch, or just decide to stop by and tease me?"

Yeah, pretty much nothing about last Wednesday had been even remotely risk-averse, Miller.

"I was gonna take my lunch up to my room," Dante said, giving a little shrug. "Then the shirt-snatcher struck. Figured I'd go make sure I wasn't losing it."

It was a casual statement about a notion he wasn't actually casual about at all, but he wasn't going to admit that part; he was going to put his container full of fried noodles and beef up on the counter. "You can snag a little."

"If you're losing it, I'm losing it, but we both actually lost our shirts, unless 'm hallucinatin' right now," Ada decided, grabbing at his take-out like the little opportunistic scavenger she was.

She put it back on the counter a second later. "Forever surrounded by carnivores," she sighed, shaking her head. "While I appreciate the offer," and she did, she knows you and your love-affair with food, Dante, "--it's all yours."

Dante wouldn't have even given her the box if he'd thought she'd eat the beef, but he guessed his noodles were staying his, too. "Your loss," he decided, taking the box back. "I'll grab something and you can have all the vegetables, next time."

The noodles were tempting, but then she'd still be able to taste the beef and then she'd want meat even more than she usually did, and that was a dangerously slippery cliff for her. One that ended in spreading scales and eating poor innocent shellfish alive.

"Y'know, eatin' a vegetable every so often ain't gonna kill you," she said, amused. "It'd be good for a growing boy like you."

"I eat tomatoes and shit," Dante promised her.

Tomato sauce didn't count, honey.

"Tomato's a fruit," she replied, amused. "'An shit ain't a vegetable!"

You walked right into that one, Dante.

"You always gotta be so precise with your language, Ades?" Dante asked, sighing.

"Well, yeah," she said, shrugging. "'M a barker. I convince people to do stuff they wouldn't normally do with my words. Play a game they know is rigged, get a ticket to the dancing girls...I don't use my words right, we don't get enough Townies buying in to get past the gate or paying extra for a ticket to the Biological Impossibilities, that's money we ain't got for groceries."

Ada gave him a crooked grin. "Bein' this pretty only gets a girl so far. Rest I gotta use words for."

Dante digested that.

"So does that mean you're trying to bark me into some vegetables?" he teased.

"Yup. Wanna see if it's possible for you to get any taller," she shot back, grinning. "If you get too big for that coat of yours, then I can steal it."

She wouldn't, but it was fun to tease.

"Nah, nobody's getting near my coat," Dante said. "So you might as well give up on that plan."

"Can't blame a girl for trying, it's a fantastic coat," she pointed out, unrepentant. "Oh well, guess that means all your veggies are mine all mine."

"That's a much better trade," Dante decided, idly picking at the take-out box. "I got limits on what I shove in my mouth, too."

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Demon Marcus, Thursday

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