Get in loser. We're going shopping. (Fer)

[Greg Mackenzie]

The hallmark of any new move, in Greg’s eyes, would be the time when he’s finally added clothes purchased locally in his closet. And as fate would have it, he was given the perfect reason to finally shop: he’d been invited to a house party – by a girl he’s met in his German class, who he thinks has a crush on him too; poor girl – that’s happening on Valentine’s Day weekend. (He’s still not sure how he’d get a pass that’ll let him off for the weekend, but that can be arranged easy, he hoped). It’s his first party in Pilot Ridge, so might as well wear some new clothes. (And he has this irrational thought that maybe, just maybe, his clothes ‘reek’ of his ex, and that’s why he’s not getting any lately).

While the clothes stores he’s used to in Banff weren’t exactly present in Pilot Ridge, thankfully there were a number of stores that had Greg’s aesthetic. They got his style down to a tee that, well, he didn’t know which to choose. He needed help.

“Umm, excuse me,” he said awkwardly, smiling wildly as he tapped a familiar face on the shoulder, “This’ll be a little bit weird and awkward, but you’re Fer right? From that blog, umm, ‘fuck’ was it?” A compliment ought to break the ice right? “I’m torn between this shirt and this. Which do you think is better for a party that can say ‘I’m available, interesting, slutty-if-the-situation-needs-be, totes top bitch Regina George, so come talk to me’?” He gave the other boy an unsure smile. “Or are they both just downright bad?”

That wasn’t too much information, wasn’t it?

[Fer Reyes]

The best thing about having the power to replicate objects for Fer was the free clothes. He would go to a store, pass his hands through every single item and just go back home and replicate them so he can analyze properly what he likes and what he doesn't, post about them to his fashion blog and just keep whatever he liked for himself. Granted, these free clothing items couldn't last forever, but at least for long enough before his visit to another clothing store, which as per the Brazilian's love of them, it was a thing he did every two or three days.

Now, he wasn't a lover of Pilot Ridge's stores, but he was curious unto how the fashion landscape of the small town had changed over the winter break he had spent back home. Suffice to say, it didn't change, which was clear enough by the face of disgust he had permanently burnt while he browsed the shop. He was, in fact, about to leave when a boy approached him from behind the rags, almost making him jump in surprise.

His eyebrow was raised to when his fashion blog was mention. "A fan?" he asked, and even though he acted as normal as possible, as it were not a huge deal, it in fact was. It was the first time he had met anyone who read his blog, and besides those other fashionistas, he didn't think anyone even knew about it. In his head, he was jumping and clapping to himself in joy. In reality, his face was serious and his chin high, if he was celebrity, he was going to act the part. "Darling, there isn't a shirt that says top bitch Regina George because the word top does not go with dear Saint George." Hand in his chin, and lips curved, he analyzed the two pieces of clothing. It didn't take him more than three seconds to arrive at very good conclusions. "The black one says you are a thirsty bottom little monster and the pink one is one size too large for you, which says I'm curvy and I don't like it, because well, nobody does. Then again, if it weren't a size too large, it'd say you're a wanna-be-jock that is attempting, and failing, to transition into the hipster type from the boy-next-door type. Vers and looking for dates, not sex."

He exhaled. He was happy with his conclusions, it was a job well done.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Greg wasn’t exactly a fan. Or at least he’d say he wasn’t. True, he admired the Brazilian’s sense of fashion and even his work ethic (because come on, maintaining a blog was hard), but he didn’t stumble upon Fer’s blog because he was actively looking for it. More like his roommate had a few friends over and were making fun of the blog, and Greg being Greg, chastised them for it. It happened just a day or two back, so it’s still fresh in his mind.

But it worked right? A little too good for the telepath’s taste, but hey, it worked.

“Rude,” chuckled the brunette when Fer told him that ‘Regina George’ and ‘top’ were two words that just don’t go together. “There are always exceptions to the rule. I’m a devout follower of the Unholy (Semi)Virgin Mother and I’m a top,” he said proudly, complete with a grin so big it’s almost stupid. Sure he’s only had sex with one person – that was Richard, the dorky Korean boy who I now proudly call my ex – but they switched places. (Boredom was another thing Greg wouldn’t stand for). And he didn’t like it as much.

The analysis was impeccable. As expected. Not that he’d think laymen would come to such a conclusion outright – cause let’s be real here, such talent was already rare in gay men (or at least that’s what the telepath thinks), it appearing in their straight counterparts? Absurd – but hey, that’s why he asked Fer for help right. Subliminal messages. “Hey, I am a jock,” he said, flexing just a bit so his tight shirt just got a tad bit tighter, “So this sriracha shirt in a smaller size would work then?” He got a bit worried with the ‘dates, not sex’ part though. Sure he’d prefer a date over a simple hook-up, but hey, he’s in a new place now right. Maybe I should try it out. “Any other suggestions? Is there anything here that screams ‘vers and dates, but I could be down if you get me more than just two drinks’?”

Maybe I should really just get Grindr.

[Fer Reyes]

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!" Fer burst into laughter after the boy's claims. Who was he kidding? Clearly, this boy was just a beginner in a world in which Fer was master. "Oh darling, thank Britney you're pretty because..." the Brazilian boy gave a disapproving look and shook his head. "there's nothing going on in the other departments."

Whether or not the brunette was a jock was of non-interest to Fer, and still laughing from his previous claims, the replicator failed to notice the other boy's attempt to look the part. His following question sounded quite redundant in Fer's brain though, as he thought he had been clear in his assessment.

"It would, if you wanted to look like a fail-hipster," Fer repeated. "See, the graphic style is clearly hipster, but there's problem with content and execution: the emphasis on hot," he pointed at the word on the shirt. "and the cock, all in top of a non-solid pink... it may work on a hot sauce but in a shirt is a mix of innuendo, funny, non-caring and sensitive messages. It's clear-cut good marketing strategy to make a piece of clothing more commercial."

Saying that made him feel smart. Mainly, because he was. Fashion was what Fer lived for, and studying this stuff came naturally to him, even if he hadn't had any formal training yet. It wasn't the first time someone had tasked him of helping them send a message through clothing, it was known to the boy that such skill didn't came as easy for others as it came for him.

"So, easy but not slutty..." Fer nodded. "Of course, it's a classic, what you need is something like..." He reached into his manpurse (because he wasn't ashamed of calling it that), and used his power to replicate one of the shirts he had previously touched during his shopping spree that day. From the manpurse, a simple black t-shirt came out in his hand, which he offered the boy. "Doesn't have graphic which says you're into simple, straightforward, non-complicated stuff. If the guy likes you, he will translate it into not-difficult and therefore easy. It's also a size smaller which helps out, just don't wear skinny or colored jeans or it'll blow over to slut and/or bottom unless you accessorize it correctly, but for accessorizing lessons it would take us all afternoon. That's a real art."

[Greg Mackenzie]

The Brazilian’s over-the-top (at least in Greg’s eyes) laughter was certainly something that the telepath expected. And nope, it surely wasn’t wanted either. Thinking that they’ve suddenly become the centre of attention because of the said event was embarrassing enough; knowing that people actually did pay them heed and catching glimpses of their actual thoughts, well, Greg couldn’t help but wish that he’d just vanish in a hole right now.

But since he couldn’t, he simply pouted and turned red. (He insists it’s a light shade of pink but it’s actually more of a tomato side of red).

“Rude,” he blurted out, but it’s less of him taking offense to what Fer said and more to him not knowing what else to say because, boy, he’d never thought those words could be said of a single shirt, much less in quick succession, and he knew he should be offended but he’s actually in awe so he just settled on saying one word because more would probably just make things awkward and make him look stupid. Like actually legit stupid. Even if he insists he’s not.

Damn, that run-on sentence was intense. Lucky he didn’t actually project that onto the Brazilian’s head.

A simple black shirt? Why didn’t he think of that? “That’s cool. And you sure a simple shirt and not a v-neck would work? I mean, girls show their cleavage all the time, would it hurt if I show mine too?” Not that he’s saying he has a cleavage. And yes, he shaves his chest.

Then Fer had to mention skinny jeans. Damn. “I don’t have anything that isn’t skinny,” he said while biting his lip just slightly, “I mean, all my jeans are super skinny actually.” They’re tight, but they hug his thighs and legs in all the right places. And the brunette has a pet peeve with loose jeans.

“All afternoon? You don’t have any plans or anything, do you?” Greg gave Fer his best attempt at a puppy face. “I’ll buy you coffee. Or something. This is going to be my first party in Pilot Ridge that would include alcohol and I may or may not have recently broken up with a boyfriend so I need all the help I can get.” A little too much info to say to a stranger within minutes of meeting them, but he figured Fer’s harmless. Ish.

“I’m Greg by the way.”

[Fer Reyes]

"Everybody knows V-neck means slut," Fer blurted out immediately after the other boy mentioned them. He was ready to explain why, but the brunette's own words did it for him. "Exactly," Fer simply said and nodded.

The Brazilian boy's lips curved as they heard mention of the fact that the other boy had nothing but skinny jeans. Was he crazy? In Fer's mind, it was unfathomable to think of having only one style of clothing in one's closet. It was easy, yes, but it was lazy, and more importantly, it lacked style. It was something that only the mundane people could do, but the elite, fashion elite, that is, like Fer would never be caught dead with a monochromatic closet in the rainbow that fashion in reality is.

"Top, jock, skinny jeans..." the replicator recited softly. "Sure..."

When the brunette took Fer's words as an open door to throw an invitation, Fer almost raised an eyebrow. He kept his face straight, though, and heard all of his words... Fascinating. Not. He almost wished he was wearing sunglasses so he could lower them down his nose and give the boy a better look in a deprecating Miranda Priestly fashion. Oh wait, he didn't need to be wearing sunglasses, he only had to place his hand in his manpurse and pull out those huge Dior ones he touched earlier. So he did just that, and held the pose long enough to make sure his point was being carried across.

Following the theme, he then took them off in a similar fashion to that of his inspiration for the rather dramatic moment. "Well, Greg, you honestly look like a couple of weeks case," he said. "At the very least. I mean, it took me all my life to learn all I know, I can't possibly impart it in one afternoon. Specially to someone who only wears skinny jeans. I mean, two thousand and ten called, it's asking for the style back."

[Greg Mackenzie]

That wasn’t exactly how Greg envisioned Fer response to the v-neck idea would be.

Then again, the Brazilian’s overall response to him didn’t exactly go as expected either, so in hindsight the telepath should’ve seen that one a mile away.

At least Fer didn’t seem to catch the hopeful tone he used when speaking about v-necks. He hoped.

“See, exactly!” Greg answered when Fer took a dig at the plausibility of him being a top, a jock, and a devout follower in the cult of Saint George, “I’m a jock. How do you expect me to know what’s in and out in fashion?” That seemed like an impenetrable excuse, right? “I mean, at least I’m only four years late. Some guys in my basketball team still think that oversized jerseys are acceptable casual wear. And that sneakers can be worn outside the gym.” He couldn’t help but cringe slightly when he remembered how adamant they were that what they had were acceptable garb.

Straight men.

While Fer’s statement seemed generous, the Canadian couldn’t help but feel like the other boy’s still not fully convinced. And he needed the replicator to be on his side, and so he reasoned that desperate times called for desperate measures. I’ll just stop by the pharmacy after this and buy another pack of Advil.

“Awesome!” he beamed, “Thanks a lot Fer, you’re the best!” He grabbed Fer’s both of Fer’s hands and smiled as wide as he could.

He’s learned that digging for information was painful. But physical contact made the task easier and the pain slightly less.

For that brief two seconds that they were holding hands, Greg managed to grab quite the memories. Like that time the Brazilian signed up for a date auction and started a bidding war. Or that time he had a rather kinky roleplay sex as Tonto (the other guy was Lone Ranger from what the telepath could make do). Or that time he realized he could’ve hooked up with a guy named Julian from a swim team of a school that’s not Hammel.

So his memory grab wasn’t that accurate. Sue him. He’s still not a full-pledged telepath after all.

At least, he got what he wanted.

“Know what, I’m a little hungry right now though. Want to head out for a snack then shop again? My treat.” Greg was barely keeping it together; right now it was like a dozen raves were happening in his head all at the same time. He could feel his smile twitch just slightly. “I saw a fancy cupcake place on my way here. They sell weird savoury cupcakes, like buffalo wing-flavoured ones. Have you tried them before?”

It’ll all be worth it in the end. He’ll have the perfect outfit – not just for the party, but for his stay in Hammel in general – so he’d have to live this through. No pain no gain right?

[Fer Reyes]

"Ugh!" Fer exclaimed in disgust. "Straight men are such an underdeveloped species."

One of the things Fer was most proud of, was being gay, up to the point of seriously believing that straight men had serious mental issues not to understand the beauty of the male body over the female's. Even if straight relationships were needed for the human race to continue, the Brazilian had little care for the future of the race's existence, if it were for him, the world would be better off if everyone would be gay. Well, except women, because at least for Fer, the only thing dumber than being a straight guy, is being a gay woman.

"What? I didn't say yes..." Fer pointed out just before his hands were grabbed. It didn't last long though, as he immediately pulled them back, having felt a rather uncomfortable sensation. "What was that?" he quickly asked.

Now, in normal situations having gotten a rather direct invitation for a date from a good-looking guy, Fer would immediately yes and he would pretty much start dilating right away. But this was not a normal situation. It was his first (known) fan, and Fer felt a necessity to act out the part of the famous star he always he knew he would eventually become.

"I don't know, I'm kind of busy," he said. "So many things to do you have no idea." The mention of cupcakes made him bite his tongue to avoid screaming a "yes". "Eww, cupcakes? Cupcakes are for fatties, I don't eat carbs." Or in other words, he already had a cupcake a couple of hours ago. "I'm trying to lose three pounds."