Thread Roulette: Threat (Bill, Honor, Eva)

[Event !]

This won’t end well.

[Honor Sayers]

Honor had always been careful with her clothes. The reason being, she hated going through the hassle of buying new clothes. Especially going alone. Which was why she avoided the mall like the plague. All that place held were nasty smells, nastier screaming kids and teenagers who smelled of ghastly hormones making them utter baboons around the waterhole. She didn't need to see to know what a sorry state the mall was.

But there she was, clutching the paper bag that held her favourite pair of jeans that had a rip from when it got stuck in the washing machine. Honor pushed her tinted glasses up her nose before letting her stick guide her through the mess of people she knew were walking away from her at the sight of the stick.

The mall was foreign to her so with much pride swallowing, she finally stopped someone to ask for directions to information counter. Without much fuss, the younger girl told her and she made her way over to the counter to ask where the tailor was. Honor was pleasant but it was all mostly for show.

Thing about not recognising places was that Honor had no way of knowing what she could potentially hit which was how she heard a yelp when her stick made contact with something. It sounded distinctly male and Honor stopped walking. "I apologise." She said gruffly, her voice that of someone who didn't use it too often.

[Bill Collins]

He didn't like shopping. He didn't like American clothes. He didn't like American malls. He certainly didn't like the youth of America either. They all needed a swift smack upside the head, as far as the loud chattering teens in front of him were concerned.

They were speaking too quickly for him to really understand, so he tried to just focus on trying to find a men's clothing store because Disco had decided to eat his nicest shirts--the ones he wore to work--so he had to go get more before school the next week. He'd been having a hard time navigating the mall even if it was 'like, really small' (he had stopped to ask/complain to a kiosk vendor), and was fed up with ending up at the food court again.

So he had simply stopped walking, and frowned. He should have had a vision this morning about where he had went to get his clothes, but he had no memories of this mall whatsoever (well besides him showing up and making his way around). He was completely taken unawares when someone smacked into his leg with something hard. His temper flared instantly and he turned to shout at the person responsible. Recognition tickled before his voice escaped so he cut back his angry remark. He worked with this woman. He just hadn't met her yet.

"Oi, it's alright. My fault fer stoppin' right in the way," his anger had faded before he had started speaking so his words came out as an acceptance to her apology though it was his fault. She had to use a walking stick, the hell was she supposed to know there was a lost man in her way. "You work at Hammel, don't yeh?" He couldn't help but ask because he wanted to be sure.

[Anastasia van Drakke]

Anastasia was, of course, not going to buy clothes in a mall. The very idea of the polyester against her skin make her shudder. Still, there was no denying that her kitchen, at the moment, was very bare. And while Ivan was taking care of the online ordering as he did, she had been sent to get the basics to last them the few days the order would take. There was a list, written in the slashes of Ivan’s handwriting, in her purse because they both knew she had no idea what the staples were, or even where to look for them.

He had not looked so much surprised as unhappy when he pulled open their refrigerator and found nothing but butter and a few jars of preserves. The recycle bin clattered with it’s load of glass bottles and Ivan managed to do what no one else could and make her feel guilty about the mostly liquid diet she’d been on since he’d left. Because, he explained, just because a martini had olives it was not a meal.

The lights were harsh, and the crowds were deafening, and even behind overlarge sunglasses her eyes were darting as the flashes of emotion in her skull made her brain ache. This would not be over quickly, she would not enjoy this.

Still, even in the din, there were some words that just rang right in the heiress’s ears.

Hammel

They had said they would back out, because some things were more important even then meta supremacy but Anastasia was not a forgiving woman. That school had made her life interesting in the unpleasant way, and she was not about to just miss an opportunity just because she’d washed her hands of the MSAD. With ease she melted into the throng and got close enough to hear, and feel.

Was that woman blind?

Well, that would just make it easier.

[Honor Sayers]

The man's voice sounded reassuring, apologetic...things Honor was used to getting when people realise she's blind. It was grating but it wasn't even their faults. Honor always had that problem, blaming people who didn't know any better. She didn't like the condescension and patronising ways people reverted to when they see her walking stick. But Honor was not the type to mull over people's guilty conscience. She didnt even mull over her non-existent one, why bother with other people's?

"Hammel...yes." Honor stopped her sneer even before it worked its way on to her lips. Now she knew why he sounded vaguely familiar. He was one of the few Europeans in the school with a very distinct accent. Wasn't he Bill? The trainer? As much as she couldn't bother with remembering names, Honor liked keeping tabs on her colleagues. That way, she can either avoid them effortlessly or bother them until they avoid her. This Bill character. He had a past. His voice held that tone not everyone could pick up had they not been taught...or had heightened senses like Honor did.

"Pleasure to meet you," she carved a smile on her face, not meaning it entirely. People full of emotions were easy to manipulate. Who knows, Honor might need him for something and if Bill was receptive towards her, she wouldn't even need to use her powers on him.

After years of relying on her intuition, Honor knew when people were looking at her and right then, the skin on her arm tingled at the sensation and because she couldn't see, she got a little worried. People didn't look at her often. They usually tend to look away in discomfort when they saw the glasses and the walking stick, which she didn't mind in the least. Let them be uncomfortable around her. Then she didn't need to interact with them.

Her hand was raised as she tried to grasp at Bill's. "Awfully sorry to impose on you but do you see anyone around who might be looking in our general direction?" She asked, her voice was made soft with a hint of worry. Men liked the damsel in distress act, didn't they? Made them feel like their hidden white knight complex had justifiable reasons to come out.

[Event !]

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