Clementine enjoyed the winter season greatly. She hated the cold and snow, but the shorter daylight hours meant she had more time to shop. She had arrived at the mall just past sundown, and had been here for hours. There were only about two hours left till closing time, and Clem exited her last stop, the craft store. She had acquired a vast selection of bags. Several were from the fabric shop downstairs, but she also had one from the shoe store, another from the pet store, three from the thrift shop and two from the craft shop.

She was wearing jeans again, it being too bitterly cold outside to run around in skirts. This time they were new, a dark wash, but she balanced out the modern-ness of them by wearing a black head-hugging cloche hat. Her jacket was a soft white material, but she had unbuttoned it in the climate-controlled atmosphere of the mall. Underneath there was the flash of red, and two very long strands of pearls looped around her neck.

After leaving the craft shop she found an empty bench and lowered herself onto it. She was tired, being up all day and night lately. With Harrison on a winning streak, she could save any extra money, so she worked like a fiend. She had only decided to come out tonight when she found Bruiser was out of dog food, and from there it had snowballed. Setting her bags beside her, she began to poke through some of them to tough again the fabrics she had bought earlier.

She had stayed out of the Ace for dozens of nights, because of her work. She hadn’t heard from Colton, but then she hadn’t really expected to, either.

Colton hated the winter. Despised the rain and the bitter cold that only soaked clothes knew how to offer. Snow was worse. Snow stuck with you wherever you went, melting slowly as you warmed up to it. It crept into your shoes and your pockets, sifted through your hair and got caught on whatever stage of a beard you had growing on your chin.

It was snowing.

Colt entered the mall and shook once, very dog-like in behaviour, sending snowflakes flying free from his hair and jacket. It was one of those days that realizations began piling up, the most urgent of which was the fact that Colton was perfectly fine wearing flannel pyjama pants and cotton tees everywhere he went, but people generally though you were deranged if you did so. Today, the realization was that he had no normal clothes.

Colton was looking rather English this evening, wearing a black car coat that his mother had given him for Christmas and a plaid scarf. He was casually overdressed; it hadn't been snowing when he started towards the mall just a mere fifteen minutes ago. Now it was a picturesque evening in Demaitre, light snow coating the sidewalks and streets, melting almost as quickly as it touched the ground.

Today: Pants. He was all right in the shirts department, but as for pants, he had come across one pair of jeans--the pair he had on--and an old pile of clothes that didn't fit right anymore. He was taller than he had been when he purchased the remainder of his clothes. Now, at six feet tall, Colton's ankles would be forced to bear the brunt of the bitter cold if he didn't supply himself with more pants. This pair would probably only remain clean for a few days, and he'd rather brave the mall than the laundry mat every few days.

As Colton entered the mall and shook the snow off himself a gust of wind accompanied him from outside and blew down towards the benches near the door. Clementine, sitting on one of those benches, shivered suddenly as the wind moved past her. She pulled her hands from her bags and held her jacket closed, burying her chin in the faux fur interior.

As she did so, she moved her head to find the cause of the coldness. She turned in time to see Colton, looking as if he faced a very unpleasant task before him. She paused for a moment and bit her lower lip as she considered his appearance. Letting go of her jacket, she gathered up her bags and began to walk towards the door.

She could greet him on her way out; it was the polite thing to do.

Colton glanced around lathargically, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. People poured in behind him, some giggling and shrieking about the snow. Oh, such unexpected weather! It's winter, why on earth would it be snowing? Colton heaved a sigh and pushed past them.

If it hadn't been obvious before, Colton is incredibly closed in. He kept his head down and his shoulders slumped forward, making himself narrower and shorter. Smaller. More compact. The mall was a place he could be seen. Recognized. He had done a damn good job of becoming invisible to all the people he had known at college, and he was fairly certain they'd never notice him again.

He wasn't expecting Clementine to be there.

She stuck out, what with the arrangement of coloured, bulky bags. Colton paused in front of her before breaking into a small smile. The smile hid the quick panic. He had forgotten to call her. She probably thought he was avoiding her. He was avoiding her, but that was none of her business to know.

"Hey, Clementine," he said lightly. Maybe if he looked pathetic enough she'd forgive him? Joyous enough? Acted extremely happy and grateful to see her? "How are... Hey, do you need help with those?" Colton offered, eyes still fixated on her bags and not on her face.

“Hi, Daddy!” She said brightly. She seemed happy and normal as he greeted her, but she stopped smiling when he refused to look her in the eye. “I think we’re going in different directions.” She added, far more subdued than her enthusiastic greeting. “I think I’m pretty much done for the night and you look like you’re just starting. Why do you look like you’re facing a firing squad? How’s Celeste? Did you put her in dance lessons after?”

She asked questions one after the other, in a bright, bubbly manner. It was an old habit she never could, or wanted to, break. Ask a million questions and the other person had to talk, and you didn’t have to. Colton would probably hate it, but the way he acted around Clementine – awkward and nervous – made her feel bad. She sacrificed his comfort so she’d have less chance to leave a negative impression.

Colton's awkward and nervous around everyone. At least with Clementine he was making an effort to smile and appear to be relaxed. Usually he didn't try that hard.

"Oh, yea... Guess we are... Um. It's snowing," he commented idly, pointing behind him with his thumb. He glanced up carefully for a few short seconds, then back to the bags. To her face, to the bags. Face, bags, face, bags. He was consistently inconsistent about a focal point.

"I hate the mall," he said honestly, taking a quick minute to glance around the shops and crowds. His expression was one of a subtle bewilderence, mostly timid, a little despairing. The people were everywhere. Any one of them could try and talk to him.

Colton met her gaze as she asked about Celeste and the dance lessons, and he nodded lightly. "Oh, she's fine..." he said, glancing back to the floor. Suddenly, he looked back up to Clementine, grinnng. "Oh, before I forget, I had something to tell you." There was energy in him now. He had a subject to talk about. "Celeste had this white dress and she got out her markers and coloured it all rainbow. She says it's her new dancing dress." He grinned again and looked back to the floor.

“Aww!” Clementine said with a laugh. “That’s so cute! She’s sweet…” His anecdote made her less nervous. “So, if you hate the mall so much why are you here?” She asked another question. This time it wasn’t to deflect attention off her, but to continue the conversation.

She kept looking straight at him as he shifted from the bags to her face. It wasn’t a confrontational look, just a steady gaze that didn’t show anything was wrong. “What do you need so bad that you’d brave the snow?” She was almost teasing him, but she was still smiling.

Colton nodded his head in agreement, his grin lasting much longer than one should expect of him. "She really liked your dress," he said, his voice sounding almost shy. It wasn't even his compliment, though he had to admit, Clementine did have a knack for dressing up well. And down well. But he wasn't thinking about that.

"I need new jeans," he said, his grin fading and his voice sounding somewhat ashamed. He was here for nothing more than pants. How... Plain. He kept a smile as she teased him, glancing up and meeting her gaze again. "It's an emergency; nothing else would make me come out here," he said with more honesty than she'd know.

“Jeans? You’re lookin’ so unhappy over jeans?” Clementine laughed again. “Oh, Daddy… There’s a men’s store right over there, it’s not so bad.” As a shopaholic, Clem couldn’t understand why anyone would hate it.

“Trust me, that’s my favourite men’s store. I buy Harrison’s things there all the time.” Harrison was probably the best-dressed gambling addict in town. Clementine constantly bought him clothing, mended what he wore out, and fixed outfits out of surplus fabric for him. It was one of the ways she took care of him, and probably the easiest for her.

“Do you want any help?” She offered, all teasing aside.

Colton followed her finger, staring off in the direction she pointed. Last time he had bought clothing was when Jake had still been alive; needless to say, Jake had the best taste in clothing, so Colton had never really had to struggle with deciding what pair of jeans he liked best. He rather enjoyed being a dress up dummy. It was easy.

Maybe that was his problem. People had been there to help him his entire life, and now that they were all gone, he was struggling with even the most basic of tasks. Conversations, clothing, keeping himself entertained. So simple, yet for Colton, so painfully difficult.

"Oh, thanks," he said, eyes straying back to her. "I'd never get that far..." he said with a nervous chuckle, eyes going back to the floor. He'd have wandered for a few hours. Her offer to help caught him off guard, and he glanced back up to her quickly, slightly shocked. He opened his mouth as if to speak, shut it, stammered slightly, and spoke quickly. "No, no, you're leaving. I won't bother you."

Denied help even when he desperately needed it.

“I’m only leaving because I’m done my shopping. I don’t really have anything else to do tonight.” That was a lie. She had a stack of orders as thick as her finger to work on. “Besides, Daddy, do you really think I need an excuse to shop some more?” She asked with a giggle.

She shifted her bags about to free one of her hands, and linked her free arm around one of Colton’s. She led him this way from the doors of the mall to the entrance of the clothing store. She slipped her arm away from his, then, and stepped inside eagerly. “Is it just jeans you’re looking for?” She asked over her shoulder as she set some bags at her feet to touch a pair of dress pants being modeled by a store mannequin.

As Orson Scott Card once said, "when both parties are lying and they both know the other party's lying, it comes powerful close to being the same as telling the truth." Least they were almost truthful with one another.

Colton smiled softly and shrugged. "Well, all right, I guess..." he said, loud enough for her to hear before dropping his voice and bowing his head. "I could use your help." He could, but he was afraid to admit it. Perhaps he was conceeding a point by saying he needed her help? Perhaps.

Colton followed her to the store without complaint. He didn't even seem to mind that she was initiating some sort of contact.

Colton glanced around the store quickly. "Um, yea... Just jeans," he said, watching someone nearby pick out a pair of dress pants. "I already have dress pants." He hovered close to her, like a lost five year old huddling close to his mother. "I just have nothing casual."

“All right, just jeans then…” She said, almost regretfully, letting the material of the dress pants slip through her fingers. She bent down to pick up her bags again, and moved to the section of the store that contained the jeans. Rows upon rows proclaimed a large variety of fits, washes, and sizes. Perhaps it was best that Colton had conceded that point; Clem looked like she knew what she was doing.

As she rummaged about on a table, a sales person left the counter and ambled over towards them. “Ah, Miss Jones. How delightful to see you here again. Shopping for jeans again all ready?” Evidently, Clementine hadn’t been lying when she said she shopped here often. She was on a first-name basis with the staff.

“Hiya, John! Yeah, jeans… But they’re not for Harrison, for my friend, here.” She turned to look down the wall at the stacks of jeans. “I wanna see the vintage washes, please.” She said to John, as she turned to Colton. “They’re the most casual. Or did you want a darker wash that you could dress up or down?”

“I’ll get both,” John said quickly. “What size?” He asked over his shoulder as he hurried off.

“Size?” Clem asked Colton, smiling slightly. She felt like an interpreter.

Colton stared in wonder as Clementine informally met John. She really did get around with her shopping. He was a cross between shocked and amazed; how could she tolerate the mall for longer than 20 minutes? How could she tolerate being around the mall long enough to learn names?

Colton looked as she mentioned faded jeans and nodded slowly. "I need more than one pair..." he said, looking back to her for approval. "Maybe... Um, one of each?"

Colton made a face as she asked for a size. "I don't know... Um. Something that fits..." He grinned nervously, and glanced around the store. "Don't they have a fitting room? I... Just go for long..."

“Of course they have a fitting room, Colton, but what are you going to do, try on every size until you find one that fits? John, we’re not sure what size.” She called back.

John, however, had all ready pulled several different sizes and washes from the racks and was starting a dressing room for Colton. “Here you are, you’re in number three… I think the medium long will fit you, you’re rather tall.” He said, looking Colton up and down.

Clem turned to Colton and shrugged. “Just make sure they fit in the length and you can have the waist tailored to fit better.” She moved towards the dressing rooms and sat down on a bench placed outside them. “I’ll wait here.” She said, arranging her bags about her feet.

Colton shrugged lightly. "Guess that's why I hate shopping," he said with a small smile. "I'm usually here for hours." He watched John as he placed the jeans in a room. Colton timidy shuffled in at Clem's startment. The negatives of having people help you with shopping were that they all stood around and watched and waited.

Over the door, Colton continued muttering things to Clementine. "I've never had to have anything tailored before... Is that bad? And, I hate it when these things don't have mirrors..." He may not have been completely style savvy, but he at least liked to look himself over. He didn't really like the dark jeans, regardless. They didn't fit right, or something. And they were dark. Made him feel... Well, too dark.

About ten minutes later, Colton emerged with a pair of jeans on and a smile. "Ok, I've found the size. I... Just don't like the colour," he said, glancing down that the pants. Way too faded out, in his opinion. He had removed his scarf and jacket in the dressing room, and was standing casually in an old school tee shirt, made to look old and faded out.

Clem sat staring at her shoes as Colton changed, and played with the pearls she wore around her neck. “Tailoring things isn’t bad, Daddy. I can do it for you, if you need it done.” She lifted the pearls to her mouth and bit one between her front teeth.

When he opened the door and stepped out she stood up and walked towards him. “So you don’t like the dark and you don’t like the faded?” She asked, the pearls falling from her mouth as she spoke. “Don’t freak out… ” She warned him as she reached out and lifted his tee shirt so she could see the waist of the jeans. “Are you sure they’re long enough? And not too big?” She hooked a finger in one of the belt loops and tugged on it lightly, the way a mother checks the fit of her child’s pants.

“Ah, so the 48 long fit?” John answered, sneaking up behind them.

“Yeah, but can we see some different washes, please? Nothing as dark or as faded. In between, I guess?” Clementine asked over her shoulder as she released Colton and stepped back. “They look nice.” She finally proclaimed, satisfied.

The warning was very much appreciated, and Colton didn't flip as she lifted the hem of his tee to inspect the pants. Maybe that was going to be how it worked for Colton. If everyone gave him a fair warning, he could deal. He feared unexpected things.

"They're long enough," he said, glancing down to his socks. "And they're a little big, but nothing a belt can't fix." He was confident in his belt selection. One thing about jeans was that you had an excuse to wear belts with cool buckles and look like a cowboy or a model, not some sort of freak or extremely gay.

Colton watched John leave with a frown. He felt like he was being waited on, and he disliked the feeling. "Wait, wait," he said, stepping back into the dressing room and grabbing a pair of jeans. "I like this colour... Or, wash, whatever. This is good," he said, hoping to make John's job easier.

“A belt shouldn’t need to fix that much give, Colton.” She said. “Besides,” She reached up and held his shoulder, pushing him gently into turning a circle. “They’re big in the back. I’ll just take them in, Colton; if they fit right they’ll last longer and keep you out of the mall longer.” She teased him again, poking him in the side as she did.

She rolled her eyes as Colton grabbed a pair of jeans, shaking her head slightly. “Daddy, don’t worry about it. It’s his job.” She took the jeans he held from him and rubbed them between her fingers. “Are you sure you like this or are you just trying to get out of here faster?” She asked him, even as she stepped away from him. She caught John’s eye and gestured to the jeans she held, nodding when he picked up another pair similar.

Colton shook his head gently. "I'm sure you have hundreds of other things to do, Clem..." he muttered, unconsciously shortening her name. "Really, I don't mind them having some give." He didn't think there was enough give to complain about, anyway.

Colton was learning. He didn't flinch or shy away from her as she twirled him around and poked him playfully. He gently shoved her back for that little jab at his ribs. Very gently, as if he was afraid of some unhidden strenght he might possess and unintentionally release on her.

"No, no! I do like it," he stammered defensively. "And, and I also like the kind... You know." Colton glanced around, trying to find an object to help explain. after a few quick glances about and no luck, he pointed to his own leg. "Ok, so, like, here--" he said, pointing at the area around the hemline on the outside of the pantleg. "--here it's dark, but it fades here." He had a finger pointing directly in the center of his thigh. "You know... They look worn and not so new. I like those, too," he finished, letting his hands fall back to his sides.

Clementine giggled as he shoved her, she stepped back a pace at the force of it, but she moved back closer to him as he pointed to his thigh and explained. “Uh-huh…” She said, moving the wisps of hair which brushed against her chin away from her mouth as she spoke. She tried to tuck them behind her ears, but couldn’t because of the tightness of the hat she wore.

“So medium vintage.” She said to John as he came up, more jeans in his hands. She took them from him and sent him off again, then showed these new jeans to Colton. “See any you like? And seriously, Colton, I’m going to take them in. I might adjust the length, too, if they drag on the floor too much they’ll wear out faster. It’ll take about five minutes a pair, I can do it tonight and then you’ll never need to think about jeans again for years.”

Poor John had brought them dozens of jeans by now, and Clementine started to briskly go through them, picking out the pairs that had the ‘worn and not so new’ look to them Colton desired. She handed them to Colton as she did so, until he was holding several pair of jeans and she sent John away with the other pairs.

If there was one thing this woman was efficient at, it was shopping.

"Uh, sure," he said, shrugging and nodding. "Medium vintage." His expression was one of bewilderment, but trust. He could put his trust in her, for she was Woman. She knew how to shop and she knew what she was talking about. He watched John rush off again, feeling more and more pity for the man. What a job. Wait on lousy shoppers like Colton.

"They won't drag," he said, looking back over at his heels again. "I'll be in shoes most the time, and these only barely touch the floor... And, besides, I'd rather have them long like this," he said with more confidence in his decision.

The lack of confidence came in when he had to actually choose the ones he liked best. "Um... Uh..." He picked up the first pair and studied it for a second, visually pairing it with shirts he had at home. Was this shade wearable? "Um, this one's good... And... And that one..." he added, almost hesitantly. From her seven pairs, Colton finally narrowed it down to four. Four good pairs of jeans, which meant about 100 different outfits and a good three to four years of avoiding the mall.

Sweet.

Colton folded the four he chose and started on a couple other pairs that John had yet to come back and take away. He'd try and make the man's life a bit easier and clean up his own mess by folding his own pants.

“I like that pair.” Clem said approvingly as she glanced down at the first pair Colton chose. She could tell how hard this was for him, and while it amused her, she tried to give the poor boy a boost of confidence. “See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” She said happily, quickly folding up the rest of the jeans.

She handed them in a giant stack to John as he came back one last time. “Once again, you’ve been a dream, Johnny… Thanks, babe!” She said brightly.

“Anytime, Miss Jones. And we’ll see you and Mr. Collins in again soon?” He said, taking the jeans from her. “We’re getting a few shipment in Friday and markdowns start on Thursday.” He told her, trying to tempt her.

“I don’t think so, not for awhile anyway.” Clem said sounding disappointed, looking pointedly down at all her bags. When she realized the number of them, she perked up again. “But never mind! We’ll be back! Is there anything else you wanted, Colt?” She turned, shortening his name the same way he shortened hers.

OOC| You totally missed it! Lol… If Clem had to tailor his jeans he would have had to go over to her house… |

Surprisingly, the boost of confidence seemed to be all Colton needed. "Really? Ok, good," he said firmly. Four pairs. He nodded more confidently now as she declared this to be an easy task. He did it. Colton was filled with a bit of childish pride. Look at him; he had gone shopping and bought pants! How grown up he was!

Before John got back, Colton slipped back into the dressing room and changed out of the pants he was in back into the clothing he had worn into the mall. When he stepped out again, he was tucking his scarf back into his jacket. Shopping was down. His only future trouble was the snow.

John and Clementine had been discussing shopping, and Colton took a moment to stand hesitantly around before idly picking up Clementine's bags. She may have been fine without help before, but in some old-fashioned corner of his mind, he owed it to her to help her out. Besides. She was the sole reason this entire experience had gone so smoothly.

"No," he said softly, shaking his head furiously. No more shopping. As painless as this had been, there was no telling when it'd start to hurt. "That's all I came for."

Colton stared at the pile of jeans left--his pile. His four jeans. "Where should I pay?" he asked, glancing around for a cash register. They hid those damn things in the furthest corners of the stores so you'd be forced to shop more. Colton wanted out.

((OOC: Heh, she's still going to take them in a bit, though, right? He still has to follow her home. And, besides, he's got her bags.))

Clem started to giggle when Colton shook his head so hard. John suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, and motioned to the back of the store with his head. “Down here, sir. I’ll get you checked in and you can be on your way.”

Clem started to button her jacket, too, adjusting the fake fur rim to cover more of her neck. She reached out and took some of her bags from Colton, peering down into their depths as if to make sure she still had everything she needed.

She waited quietly in the background as Colton was checked in a paid for his purchase. She swung her bags gently, carried away by the music the store was piping into the room. She started humming as Colton came back to her, and she just smiled and kept on humming. It was U2, In a Little While. She started singing quietly as they walked out of the store, “In a little while surely you’ll be mine. In a little while I’ll be there…” She started giggling again – the girl had a terrible habit of giggling – and shook her head. “Sorry... I like that song.” She stopped when they exited the store, and turned to walk towards the exit.

OOC| Oh.. I thought he didn't want that, either, because he kept saying no.. |

Colton felt like a confident shopper as he left the store. He had one bag of jeans, and a couple other bags of miscellaneous Clementine purchases that made him look more accomplished than he really was. He smiled down at Clementine as she explained herself, though Colton hadn't really been listening. Nope, too busy being an accomplished shopper.

Besides. He hummed along to songs he knew as well. Nothing he wouldn't be caught guilty of sooner or later. Josh knew first hand that Colton was the worst dancer in the world by barging into his boss's office at some pretty embarrassing fake-disco dance moments.

"That's all right," he said softly. He was walking beside her, but a step behind. He was following her in a very inconspicuous way. She knew where she was going, and he didn't have the slightest idea.

When they stepped outside on the sidewalk, the scene became silent. Most people had saught shelter by then, as the snow had picked up ever so slightly, falling down in hazy curtains of flakes, swirled by a light, icy wind. Colton shivered once, the mentality of being cold setting in. He didn't like the snow.


((OOC: Colton says no to everything. He probably only means no two or three times a week.))