"When the sun came up, we were sleeping in..." The words floated from Rasmus' lips in a soft tune, and he eyed some shoes that looked particularly nice. He needed a new pair of shoes, honestly, but the real reason he actually lingered in here was because he knew this song quite well.

"Sunk inside our blankets, sprawled across the bed..." he sung on, the sweet tune almost perfectly in sync with the lead singer of Straylight Run's, as he continued to search through shoes, picking them up and checking sizes. A Nike sneaker shop, in case one happened to miss the big sign above the shop.

"And we were dreaming..."

Rasmus wasn't one for malls, or terribly public places at all, but his mother wanted him to go, and his friends also urged him to. They said they'd meet up with him later, and wandered off somewhere in the mall.

Well, according to his watch, that read 6:15, it was later. Later than it had been fifteen minutes ago, honestly.

It wasn't that he was mad at them for wandering off without him, it was just... okay, so he was mad at them for wandering off without him. But it wasn't his fault, really. He was terrified of people now, and ever since he'd met Verkur, anyone could be out to get him. Anyone at all, with their magical powers that Rasmus didn't have. Rasmus was merely a mortal boy, wanting nothing more than to fit in and get on with life.

And now, he was... rather terrified with life. Knowing that any time, anywhere, some other sort of... dead thing, as Verkur had said he was, could be wandering around, out to get him. But, honestly, when you think of the world that way, it is rather scary.

"There are moments when I know it, and the world revolves around us. And we're keeping it... keeping it all going..."

His wine red hair hangs in his face, at about chin-length, and he doesn't bother to push it out of his face. But if he did, you could really see his baby-like looking face, and the freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose, and slightly around his cheeks, contrasting against pale skin.

"This delicate balance... vulnerable... all knowing..."

A pendant hung on a plastic-y like band, having the sign for male, but a rather pitiful excuse for a necklace.

A long-sleeved black and white shirt hung loose against Rasmus' body, appearing a tad baggy for the boy, and having the words 'Guns don't kill people, I kill people' spewed across the front of it in messy, white, skewed text. It looked new, but it was fairly old, it was just the fact that Rasmus took good care of his clothes.

"Sing like you think no one's listening... you would kill for this..."

Rasmus continued to look around at the shoes, taking a step over here, and a step back there, casting occasional glances in the direction of the door.

For pants, he had incredibly baggy black pants, with a nice black belt tight around his waist, and had pockets 'o plenty. And speaking of pockets... Rasmus reached down into his pocket, feeling around to see what in hellfire was in it. It was a Vitamin C drop wrapper. Oh. He kept the oddest things in his pockets, especially when there wasn't a trash nearby.

His silver eyes, shielded by thin-rimmed, silver glasses, found a pair of shoes he reeeeeaaallly actually liked. Which was awesome... until his eyes also found the price tag. A hundred dollars. Money that Rasmus didn't have.

It was kind of ironic, really. The words echoed the feeling Rasmus had. Not being able to afford things was the worst, especially when you needed them.

"You would kill for this..."

((Ish Thorn on Emmy's Name. Hi Arc)

Enter stage left.

“Kill for this…”

His own words echoed the song as he entered the shoe store. He didn’t truly know the song. Only bits and pieces.

Kill for….yeah. I’ll kill him alright.

It was a fleeting thought only triggered by the words of the random song playing over the speaker, nearly drowned down by the constant persistant buzzing of the main corridor in the mall. The crowds had driven Jehovah into the shoe store, not to mention that he’d nearly ruined his only pair of running shoes this morning. Well, if it’s old, put it out of it’s misery and find a replacement right?

Jehovah was a tall man with a well built body and finely toned ‘pecks’ that tapered down to a thin waist and long legs wrapped with tendon. He wore a white button down shirt stretched tightly over his chest and a mid-thigh terry-cloth black jacket that looked just casual enough not to be titled ‘dressy.’ His navy blue slacks were loose and trim and though he’d bought them after the style fell out of trend, they still looked stylish. His tie matched his slacks in color and were it not for his hair, he’d be every bit a business man.

Jehovah’s hair reached to the middle of his back and had been dyed black as coal with bloody red streaks run trough it. It was pony-tailed at the base of his neck and about twelve inches too long to be with-in standards of a BPD officer. Nevertheless, he was. His eyes were tinted black by color coated contacts, though beneath them, they perfectly matched those of his half-brother’s, green.

He was hansom in his own rebellious out of style wearing way. He briefly scanned the labels over the shelves of shoes until he found the tac that marked his size and head over to it, finding himself standing near a slightly younger man. He found his gaze wandering down the young man’s body briefly, taking in details that men shouldn’t notice about other men, and then turned to look over the selection of shoes.

Something else that set Jehovah apart from his fellow Bayfield Policemen, aside from getting away with the long hair, was that he was the only openly gay detective…or the only openly gay officer in the division.

(THORN! I missed you! AND AND AND *Tackleclinglove.*)

Rasmus hardly noticed Jehovah at all, too busy picking up shoes and singing to the harmless song. He checked his watch again. It read 6:17. Two minutes more that Rasmus' friends had left him to fend for himself in a crowded mall. Two minutes more tha anyone could reach out and grab him. Two minutes more that he wasted, looking at shoes.

Rasmus, startled by the man who was now standing next to him, and he didn't notice before, took quite a few steps back. The man didn't look quite so intimidating, but for all he knew, he could be just as ill-wishing as that demon had been.

As if not to look afraid, Rasmus slowly inched away from the man, looking instead in anothe aisle, away from Jehovah. He was just being paranoid, he told himself. And was just startled that he hadn't paid enough attention to what was going on around him.

Rasmus let out a shaky, uneasy breath, then picked up another shoe, studying it.

((Me missing you to Arc. I feel like such an old woman. :aww: ))

Jehovah smiled to himself as the other moved further away. Was this...intimidation? He grabbed a random jogging shoe from the shelf, checked his appearance quickly, loosened his tie and set off confidently after the young man.

The cute man.

The new prey.

eehhem

he cleared his throat, touched his tie with his fingertips lightly, held the white and black running shoe about waist high, infront of the black leather belt, and smiled. Such a beautiful smile. That smile betrayed and covered the evil that could lurk beneath that nicely tanned surface.

"Excuse me."

He had a deep barriton voice with a hint of scratchy tone around the edge, like someone who'd yelled half of the day and ran his voice horse. But it was pleasant.

(Awe. You're not old. :P I'd love you just the same even if you were. ^_^)

Rasmus looked up into the man's black eyes, offering a forced, polite, uneasy half-smile, that sported no teeth. It was more of a tight-lipped, nervous smile, though the boy was hoping it didn't reflect even half of what his general uneasy feeling was.

"Oh, uhm, sorry," Rasmus sputtered out quickly, his voice tenor, unlike Jehovah's, with a rich Swedish accent.

He shied away further from the man, and picked up a shoe (ugly thing that it was) on clearance, pondering whether or not he should purchase this or nothing.

((yess...but my body makes me feel old.))

He smiled again.

This would be fun.

"Sorry to bother you, sir."

This just wasn't right.

Another flash of white teeth. "But could you help me?"

Oh, this is mean.

"Do you carry this in a thirteen?"

Jehovah knew very well that the young man did not work here. But that did not matter to the man. If he wanted someones attintion he'd find a way to get it.

Rasmus looked very surprised to be asked that question. Maybe the man was just confused?

"I'm sorry, I can't help you. I don't work here." He put the shoe he was studying down, and slunk further away from Jehovah. Sure, he might've meant no harm, but he just didn't want to be bothered.

"You can... ask the guy over there," he pointed to a man at a desk.