Why Can't We Be Friends?

Recorded: April 13, 2014
Characters: Mike, Kevin, Pietro
Location: Upper East Side - High-End Clothing Store
Summary: Kevin pranks Pietro while retrieving some intel. Mike escapes groupies.


"I still don't see the issue with this attire. It is nondescript and made of Earth tones. It should blend in with a crowd pretty effectively." Pietro harshly protests, shoving the door to the store open and slipping through ahead of Kevin. No attempt is made to hold it open. "I also question the clientele. They all appear as if they desire attention." He remarks, scanning each patron coldly.

"Trust me, the people who stand out the most are the ones who wear 'nondescript' and 'earth tones.' If you really want to blend in, you should look more cheerful and middle-class." Kevin bumps into the door since it was so rudely closed in his face, but pushes past it to catch up to Pietro. He shops often, though never buys anything. Just commits a lot of the latest fashions to memory for future us. Right now he's shaped in his usual Caucasian male disguise and wearing a pink, button-down t-shirt that drapes untucked over a pair of egg creme colored slacks. He looks like he shops here often, and the store attendants eye his fashion sense with admiration. "Someone! Anyone! I need some help for my friend here. He seems to have gone colorblind in his young age."

"Trust is a funny thing." Pietro murmurs, wincing as Kevin calls for assistance. "Kevin. You are being insane. My vision is perfectly fine which is why this is hard to swallow." He explains with a sneer, flicking through a rack of shirts. "These all have far too many patterns on them. You've only seen me dressed for a mission but, when I am not, I tend to use solid patterns."

His lips thin into a mild frown. "This is a hawaiian pattern. Where are we?"

"You're in Flavoure Country," an effeminate clerk declares as he steps up to the two. His powder blue suit screams as loudly as the clothes on the racks but he looks just as proud to wear it as he is to sell what he's selling. "You are so right, Kevin, your friend could use a little spring in his step. Come with me, dear. Let me help you."

The omnimorph pushes Pietro by the shoulders, inching him into the attendant's eager grasp. "Go. Be taken care of. Learn what it is to stay in by standing out." His grin spreads broadly as he picks a few random shirts off the nearest rack and throws them over Pietro's shoulder. "Try these! See if you can find some matching socks to go with these! I just bought him a new pair of sandals and these would look great in them."

Well, after a certain Asgardian crashed at his apartment last night, having been introduced to the concept of movies and popcorn with the help of of the musician friends, Mike found it upon himself to make sure Loki got back to the mansion without incident. And it worked. The incident didn't happen until AFTER Loki was safely situated within the building. Several factors contributed. One, Mike went to church before taking Loki back. Two, Mike's church clothes are a much better quality than his usual blending in clothes. Three, slightly better clothing makes it a bit easier to associate the man walking down the street with an on stage persona.Four. TOURISTS.

"OH MY GOD! NICK!"

Oh LORD.

"flavoure country?" Pietro echoes with uncertainty. "I don't know what flavoure country is but I'm not sure it would suit me." He offers in sharp protest, turning a heated glare to burn at Kevin's face. "White socks are fine. They match everything."

A high-pitched scoff rebuttals Pietro's assumption that white socks go with everything. While he's forced into a dressing room with piles of colorful garments to try on, the omnimorph makes himself comfortable by chatting up one of the female attendants behind the counter. The male attendant waits patiently outside of Pietro's dressing room for him to step out in one combination of new duds.

The street outside the store seems so peaceful, which is why a guy in a rather well tailored black suit and pale blue dress shirt cutting around the corner at a quick rate seems a little odd if any were to see it. After skipping a few shop entrances, he turns and pops into one in particular. The chime of the door hasn't even quite finished ringing before Mike is already halfway down the length of the store, bee-lining towards the back of the store, grabbing a different colored shirt, a pair of jeans, and a ballcap (which is likely no better than the ones than what you get at the generic stores but it's got a brand name logo stitched into it so it's marked up to hell) on the way.

A few clicks later, a laughably impossible horde of girls goes running by the shop.

Clothing shuffles behind the curtain of the dressing room followed by a long moment of uneasy quiet. "I'm not coming out in this." Pietro declares, studying his reflection in the mirror with a fair quantity of suspicion. "Why did I fall for this?"

"Don't be shy, honey. We're here to nurture that sickly fashion sense of yours into something healthy and vibrant." The male attendant looks briefly to Mike with a thoughtful chinrub. "I'm sorry, sir, but if you're going with that hat, you shouldn't wear that shirt alone. Go with the sleeveless vest right there." He points at a rack of overpriced sweater vests designed to make you look like a golfer at all hours of the day.

Mike halts as the attendant calls out to him, glancing to the hat, and then towards the sweater vests. Geez. He continues walking over to the dressing room area, surrendering over the hat. "Then I guess I lose hat. I prefer to keep it simple." Flashing one of his more charming smiles meant more for sucking up to rich donors, the well dressed rocker turns, heading towards one of the unoccupied dressing rooms.

The dressing room shuffles once more before Pietro emerges in a white button up shirt over a pair of slacks. Bland. Safe. "None of those tops or shirts are suitable for what I need. Nor were those pants. They were too…tight." He explains to the attendant, turning his attention towards the new shopper. "Oh. That's a good look, Casper. Decided to stray from bohemian hobo, have you?"

The attendant shakes his head in disappointment at Pietro. "Too much white. Try again."

Kevin's already leaning near the dressing room by the time Pietro's emerged and mimicks the smug facial expression of the attendant. "Come on, dear. I know you hate to coordinate, but it's your sister's luncheon, and I want to embarrass the hell out of that bitch for what she said behind our backs." That comment gains the attendant's full attention, who suddenly stands up from his seat and says, "Wait right here. I've got just the thing for the both of you." He's off in a hurry to find whatever matching monstrosity he has in mind. Meanwhile, Kevin leans against the doorframe of Pietro's dressing room and glances casually at Mike. "Oh stop it. I think he looks nice."

As he hears Pietro, Mike stops in his walk to the dressing room to glance back towards Pietro. He doesn't say anything in response but glances to Morph afterwards. With the two's presence somewhat acknowledged, the musician turns and steps into the dressing room. The door slams shut.

Satisfaction is reflected in the smirk that tugs at Pietro's lip. "No need. I don't think I'll be attending any luncheon." He states, turning back to regard Kevin. "But you could use some work. Isn't summer just around the corner? You intend to wear that for it?"

Kevin continues to regard Pietro with a casual admiration, running his finger up and down the doorframe as if he had nothing better to do than drink in his friend's profile. "We'll see what the nice attendant comes up with. I'm sure he has something positively charming in mind… Speaking of which, I spoke to the cashier and got our next play date." His fingers glide to a breast pocket that wasn't previously on his button-down shirt, and he retrieves a calling card with the FoH logo clearly printed on one side. "Are you up for a boy scout meeting?"

Sounds of shuffling come from Mike's dressing room. Despite the commentary from before, he opts to continue with trying on the clothes.

The door to the store chimes open again as a couple college age girls start looking around.

Any sign of playfulness drains from Pietro's face at the card. "Turns out we may have something to do instead." He calls blandly over his shoulder. It doesn't matter if the attendant hears.

Kevin is given an uncertain look before Pietro casts his eyes towards the dressing room. "Hey, Casper? We've got some work to do. If that fancy trick you have is tied to specific gene, you should probably come too."

Kevin rolls his eyes and tucks the card back in his breast pocket, which disappears as quickly as it formed. "Are you randomly inviting people to our luncheon again? Because that is so not cool. It's not even today, so quit being so anxious." He brushes at Pietro's shirt playfully, then straightens up when the attendant returns.

"I think this will show your sister that you mean business," the man proudly declares as he holds up matching pastel dress suits. "With the jacket, without the jacket, I have found Bri-zay's line of suits to be just the statement for my everyday declarations."

"Oh, I LOOOOVE them," Kevin declares as he reaches for the suits and moves to push Pietro back into the dressing room. "Come on! Come on! Let's try them on!"

There's the zip of pants and after a few moments, the unzipping of them. "The only special genes around here are the ones I grabbed off the rack. Who the fuck came up with these sizes?" There's a grumble and the jeans are flung over the top of the dressing room door. There's another shuffle as it appears the ill made jeans did not stop him from trying on the shirt.

"Nick?" One of the college girls ask as they look around, being bold enough to peek into the dressing area, "Oh Niiiick."

"Get the hell out of here." Pietro snarls at the girls, throwing a finger towards the door and swinging a glare back to the attendant. "No thanks. We're done here." It seems his leisurely mood has run out.

He strides towards the door to gently herd the women away. "We're going to go deal with some anti-mutant extremists. If that matters to you and you won't slow us down you should come."

The attendant seems surprised by Pietro's declaration. Kevin, on the other hand, simply rolls his eyes and sighs in disappointment. "Not only do you need to learn how to dress, man, you need to learn how to relax. Especially if you're going to be hanging with me." He holds up his hands and calls out to the store, "My friend's just kidding, people! I'm going to take him back to his special place now. Sorry for disturbing you." He shoves the clothes in the attendant's direction, then reaches out to grab Pietro and start pulling him out the store.

The girl who peeked in steps back, letting out a slight eep. She turns to look to her friend, frowning, "He's not here." As they start getting herded, the other girl looks around, "Maybe he ducked into another one?" Deprived of their quarry, the two girls leave the store.

The shuffling within Mike's dressing room stops after a few moments. The door opens and he exits, suit jacket draped on the arm with his old shirt tucked inside and the hair set into an inverted pony tail to give the illusion of a shorter hairstyle. He moves over towards the attendant, pulling out enough cash to cover the cost of the shirt. "I'll take the shirt. He pauses, glancing around, "You have a back exit to this place I can use?"

Pietro snorts derisively then shoves his way out the door, bowling over the lingering students in the process. "Leave him to his anonymity. We've got work to do, Kevin."

Kevin huffs as he marches out of the store. "Y'know, Pietro, some days I ask myself why can't we be friends, and other days you answer that question for me." He turns to walk off with his hands shoved in his pants as his whole outfit changes from frilly to a toned down look: Jeans and a hoodie.

The attendant manages to find a hand to grab Mike's money in between reshuffling the clothes that were so rudely shoved in his face by Pietro and Kevin. "No back entrance, I'm afraid," he states in a sing-song voice as he heads to the register. "If you'll come with me, I'll ring you up."

Oh you've got to be kidding. Mike sighs, following the attendant. But still, this is still probably faster than just taking the shirt off again. Talk about shitty timing with the invite.

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