Unique New York
Roleplaying Log: Unique New York
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

Clint and Trish come save Starfish from the untoward actions of a drunk man.

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: August 29, 2019
IC Location: New York CIty
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 30 Aug 2019 22:04
Rating & Warnings: 18A for some adult language and content
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

Following lunch with the only man in the city who is called by his first name, the teen with the talent for pulling quarters out of ears and other assorted strange things begins another journey of discovery and wonder, as her lunch friend had business to deal with. As a businessman. Something about Wall Street. She mulls this over in her head, checking the cloth that dangles in front to ensure it's in proper position, then the one at her rear. As she walks, heads turn. It's atypical to see a pink-haired young woman, let alone with gold streaks, but her hair is really a secondary feature to attract the eyes. Her outfit, like some Egyptian princess cosplayer, is showing a lot of skin, and it looks as though she has misplaced her shoes.
Attention garnering, the young woman is used to it. She aims for the outlandish. She may have gone too far, as she is followed for a full block before she takes notice, and she only takes notice because she is quick to pick up on abnormalities. Like the way she is being stared at by the follower. She walks more quickly. This does not deter. She turns down an alley at what she hopes is just the right moment, running as she reaches the mouth, ducking behind a dumpster.
"Hey girl, you all by yourself?" He sounds like this delights him. Even more when he hears her respond.
"N…no!" Starfish replies. Stupid, she thinks. Maybe intimidation… she concentrates and…nothing happens. "Uh…" She looks around, noticing someone watching from a window above, also looking right at her but more in the bemused way. Dumpster has no casters… flat against wall. Maybe the scary guy just wants to be friends…

* * *

"Look, no. I'm telling you, sell those stocks and invest them in the other business I told you about. Just…please. Thank you. Let's meet for lunch soon." The blonde celebrity known as Trish Walker stops at the entrance of the alley. She slips her cell phone into her purse and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She's wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a blue jacket, along with sneakers.

She glances briefly into the alley and the man catches her attention first. He seems to be talking to…someone. Though she can't see who just yet. But the way he's talking and walking has her feeling like something just isn't right.

Approaching him from behind, she taps on his shoulder. "Excuse me, sir? You got the time?" Yes, she knows what Jessica said, but she's hoping she'll catch him off guard.

* * *

Clint Barton, SHIELD member, is out here because…..honestly….he was making his way back to the Roosevelt Island area. Or he would be if he wasn't stuck in traffic. In a cab. With a driver that was grumbling about 'just get the hell out'. So Clint did. Pounding the pavement, he's seen the two in the alley and he's got this feeling something, something is wrong. He slips into the alley.

This ain't good. Maybe they are having a drug deal going down? No, no. Wrong feel. Maybe the guy's got out of hospital and is confused?

No, no. He jogs in. He's bringing his bowstave with him for SHIELD to check over. He's got into the habit of always carrying it with him Okay, there's no quiver, but he can hit people with it. Or punch them. Still, he leans on the wall of the mouth of the alley, "Hey!" he calls. "Are you alright?"

That's aimed at the other two, and he's stepping closer to them too. He's got one hand in his jacket for his bowstaff, the other within striking distance of his phone. He can easily bring that hand up if it's needed. Oh if only he brought his arrows with him…

* * *

Foiled! By Witnesses! Just like Starfish is foiled by witnesses, but for /entirely/ different reasons. "Ah get lost lady…" the scruffy looking man who smells of alcohol but is dressed for his blue collar job tells Trish. "I aint got the time. Unless you wanna join… then I got all day." He walks more into the alley, "Come on out!"
"No, go away please…" the young sounding voice responds. Then Clint's voice echoes in, and the scruffy one turns to look. "F!@#ing damnit… go away! Nothing here's you business. I ain't into dudes…lady can stay."

* * *

Suddenly there's another voice! Trish looks behind her, looks back at the guy in his suit, and then does a double take. Does this new guy…yes, he has a bow! That's new. "Oh…whew…" She waves a hand in front of her nose. "It's a little early in the day to be doing that much drinking. Maybe you should walk back the way you came. Maybe find a church with AA going on? Before you do something you come to regret?"

She sighs when she hears the younger voice. "Now, I'm definitely going to have to ask you to leave.

In a quick, speedy move, she comes up within reaching distance of the man and grabs his arm. Her grasp is stronger and tighter than one might expect from her. She has quite the lock on him. "You're going leave the girl alone and go somewhere else where you won't bother anyone. Got it?" She tugs him back toward her and the entrance of the alley.

* * *

Clint moves, signing with a hand. He's signing something highly insulting in ASL, hoping to bait the scruffy guy. Then he adds a simple one finger salute, too, jabbing it and waving it around at the scruffy guy before 'accdentally' brushing near them. He's hoping the scruffy guy bites and starts a fight. There's no way SHIELD will back him if he picks a fight with somebody who is unarmed. Though he's got a sense things are /really/ wrong. He spins on a heel and uses his acrobatics to pivot and pretend to stumble. He has the stave in both hands held out horizontally at chest height…and he's hoping at as he stumbles, it'll connect withh the scruffy guy or at least….cause a breeze.

Clint isn't happy. This guy's sketchy. Clint needs to open a file on him…

* * *

"Get your…let go of me!" The moderately drunky scruffy man demands, trying to get himself unheld by Trish but not quite expecting her to be as grabby as she is. Firm, strong, he's not up to fighting a meta. Then Clint helpfully informs him that he is definitely not up to fighting anyone, as he is sent sprawling, balance undone, "Augh! Fine! Jeez just trying to have fun you a**" *burp*
Starfish has her eye on what's happening, unsure if she should come out while the now much less scary man is still there. All that's visible is her hair, half of her face, her forearm and some of her leg, all of which aren't covered by clothing, and the eye is still pretty wide. As the drunk is roughed up, sent on his way to his next choice in activity in the wrong direction, Starfish emerges from her dumpster of protection that wasn't very effective in the short run and possibly would have been much more problematic in the long run. Wrapped up in a loose fitting length of silk is her upper body above the midriff, and it does not look like anything is worn beneath that. Similar, the lengths of cloth that hang in back and front from her waist, nothing under those for sure. Everything else, bare. She approaches with a distinct sense of awkwardness, "Um…thanks… hi Clint." She starts shedding tears, to her own astonishment. "…why am I crying…"

* * *

Offering a little smile to the man coming up next to her, with his staff in hand, Trish nods to him. "Go Team Good Guys?" At least the drunk jerk isn't going to be causing any more problems for a bit. At least not in this alley. "Miss?" She asks of the person the drunk guy was initially after. When Starfish stands up, she looks the younger woman over. Definitely not what she was expecting. It's a most unusual look.

"Are you okay?" She asks of Starfish, voice gentle. She glances between Starfish and Clint. "You two know each other?" But then the girl starts crying. Tentatively, she reaches out a hand and places it softly upon Starfish's shoulder. "It's okay to cry. That was scary. He was mean." She nods in the direction the drunk guy left.

* * *

Clint gives the drunk guy a death glare. "Yeah he won't be back if he knows what's good for him. Go Team Good Guys" Clint echoes with a nod, then he looks gently to Starfish. "She….um….latched onto me. I'm fine with it. Just got to figure out where she's gonna stay. I was looking at the ruins" Clint says meaning the former tower ruins. He watches Starfish for a moment the nods to Trish. "You are?" he asks not offering a hand. When he does, there's the hint of a badge or a wallet revealed.

* * *

There is a moment of stillness about Starfish as she seems to just stare without moving, then a hand wipes away tears, which seem to intensify, face changing to express a mixture of confusion and relief, only one hand held over her face as though to try hiding it, the other just resting at her side. Silent sobs, with only the shaking of her body to give away what's happening. She has spent /years/ keeping others from seeing anything true about herself. This refuses to be hidden. Her face contorts in a wash of anger and shame. Outrage. That look of wanting very much to do harm on a young woman who refuses to let other people see the truth.
Starfish's jaw trembles, wordlessly.

* * *

"I'm Trish Walker." She introduces herself to Clint. "And you are?" Trish reaches out a hand to Clint instinctively, holding it out a little too long before he reaches out his hand. He may recognize he from Trish Talk or from It's Patsy, or even her one hit wonder I Want Your Cray Cray. She takes a deep breath a and offers a tiny smile. She glances downward briefly as a shiny bit of something catches her attention.

"Oh, oh, Miss." Voice full of sympathy toward Starfish. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with the bad man. That must have been absolutely terrible."

* * *

Clint nods. "Clint" he says and doesn't give his last name. Instead he shakes the hand. "The, /the/ Trish?" he asks quietly and looks amused

* * *

Clint nods. "Clint" he says and doesn't give his last name. Instead he shakes the hand. "The, /the/ Trish?" he asks quietly and looks amused for a momentt, though when he sees Starfish crying, Clint looks over to her. He'll explain this one later on, as sirens are heard going past outside. Looking from Trish to Starfish, Clint nods and steps back looking concerned.

* * *

Starfish stops suddenly showing any of her grief and rage, staring again more downward. She backs away, back into the alley, stumbling as her bare foot catches the edge of a discarded beer bottle and she falls backward, curling up to cover herself. "…I'm fine," she says immediately. "just fell… you..don't have to stay…"

* * *

"Nice to meet you, Clint." Trish smiles a little. She nods. "Yes, The Trish." Because she assumes he means her as the Trish. She turns back to Starfish as she falls. She sighs, faster than normal feet get her to Starfish's side as she kneels beside the girl.

"Are you okay?!" Is her first comment. She's genuinely concerned. "I want to stay. I'm Trish." She says softly. "I want to help if I can." Her voice is calm and kind. "I've been through some scary times too. They're not easy to go through sometimes."

* * *

"I'm fine," the teen says again, ensuring her outfit is at last correctly arranged before a loud sniff comes from her, "…physically…" She looks really at Trish for the first time, her expression moving to one of more hope than stoic mask of strength. "Um… Starfish…me, I mean." She slowly moves to pick herself up, ensuring no obstacles are present to make her less upright again. "well…now I look homeless and crazy…" she muses aloud, having heard Clint's words about her.

* * *

"It's not just the physical I'm worried about." Trish frowns. "Starfish." She smiles. "It's nice to meet you, Starfish." She just wishes it was under better circumstances. "Is there anybody I can call for you? Somewhere you're staying that I can help you get to?"

She takes her cell out of her purse as she talks. One way or another, she figures she's going to need the phone. "What can I do to help you?"

* * *

"I…" Starfish gets a look about her like something would be a very awful idea. "I…have a home," She does not want that home to be where she goes right now. She has that look to her. "But…um…maybe…other place?" She stumbles over the words, trying to work out the thoughts that are all rushing at once. "Oh. Call. Um…maybe…clean up and call and lie?" she asks hopefully.

* * *

"Is everything…" Maybe that's not a question to ask yet. Obviously this young woman is going through a lot. Trish nods a little bit. "Of course." She finally says. "You can come to my place, if you'd like. Get cleaned up and everything, and then you can decide what you want to do then. Does that sound okay?"

* * *

"It's…not like you think," Starfish assures. "…worse someways.." She looks thoughtful. "Um. Is it okay if I hold on to you? I…need to think…" She wipes her hands on the cloth hanging at front, making sure they are moderately clean. Not like her legs which have picked up a series of telltale marks from the alley's grime.

* * *

"Of course, hold on." Trish makes her a stable body next to Starfish. "Hold on." She holds her arm out slightly, not sure how much she needs help. "Let me call my car service." She says as Starfish holds onto her. "And we'll get to my place in no time. You can then clean up, we can call whoever you want…or we can not call anybody. Up to you." She smiles again. "How does that sound?"

* * *

Starfish bobs her head, just grasping Trish's forearm with both hands, not tightly, nor looseley enough that she would be in danger of suddenly releasing with a stiff breeze. "thanks. Um…just…yeah. I get lost easy…" She doesn't try to fathom what a car service might be, but she guesses it's related to transportation, and considers that it probably has distinction from taxi or uber or other strange things she does not use much. "Not call anybody," she finds appealing.

* * *

Trish Walker shakes her head. "We won't call anybody." Although that in and of itself does have her concerned as well. Why doesn't she want to call anybody? It sounds like she has somebody. But maybe they're not the friendliest of people either. Which Trish also understands.

Leading them out of the alley, she finds the closest address and calls for a car to pick them up and drive them to her building.

* * *

All the looks that once again point in the direction of the very oddly-dressed Starfish, all those looks she had grown so accustomed to, they start to make her realize she does not really like them now. But her options are go back into the disgusting alley, or wait for the car-based service. She waits, and when it arrives, she hesitates. "Um…I'm…filthy…"

* * *

"It's okay. You'll be fine." Trish's tone remains calm and kind. The driver comes out and opens the door to the vehicle for them. "After you, Starfish." She offers, letting the younger one get in first before her. Once they're both in, she'll give the driver her address and they'll be on their way.

"When we get to my place, you can clean up and wash your…your clothes. I may even have some other clothes for you to wear, if you'd like." She offers.

* * *

Assured, believing, Starfish makes herself take up only a little bit of room on the seat, trying to do as little damage as possible with the alley's grime, pulling the rear flap to cover her lap with the front one. "Sorry," she mumbles. "Just…stupid… boots held it all together… wouldn't have been like that with the boots… shoulda kept them on…"

* * *

Getting into the seat beside Starfish, Trish smiles softly and shakes her head. "Don't worry about it one bit." Of course, the car company will probably charge her a cleaning fee, but that's not a huge deal to her. "Let's just worry about one thing at a time, huh? We'll get you to my place and then take it from there."

The driver drops them off at a rather fancy looking building and lets them out. There's a doorman for the building who opens the door for them and greets Trish with a "Good day, Ms. Walker". They take the elevator up to the top level, and walk down a short hallway to her apartment. She unlocks the door and guides Starfish in.

* * *

With the quiet of the car inside, Starfish calms during the trip, only slightly uncomfortable seeming when she is led to the expensive looking building with the doorman who very professionally ignores Trish's unusually grimy catch. She looks kind of like she fell out of a stage production into some unseemly trash. "Um…" She's baffled by the interior, which is much more impressive to her than the exterior. "You um…live here…" she states, providing helpful insight regarding the obvious. "…alone?" That was the part she left off, took a few seconds but it made the journey. She is attentive where she walks, though most of the grime from the soles of her feet managed to come off on the way up. "It's…really nice," she compliments.

* * *

"Yes, I do." Trish chuckles softly. "All alone. And thank you. I do like it. Occasionally I'll have a guest. But it's usually just me." She look around for a moment before nodding firmly. "Okay. This way to the bathroom." She declares. "Shower, bathtub." She pulls a drawer from under the sink and pulls out a towel. "You can use this to try off." She points to the shower and bath combo. "There's soap, shampoo, and conditioner in there already. Ummm…" She opens up the another set of drawers and looks around. "Aaaannnndd…" She pulls out and opens a new hairbrush. "You can use this if you want…and…" She digs around some more. "Aha!" She holds up an unopened tooth brush. "You can use this as well. Do you want to borrow some clothes? What shoe size are you?"

* * *

"Uh…" Starfish nearly says something at the start, but lets Trish finish, attentive at each device, each offering, each direction. She marvels at the aethetics of the bathroom, its roominess, amenities, colouration and even the textures, venturing to get a feel for things "I um…don't know…" she responds, mainly about shes, partly about borrowing clothes. She glances at her bare feet with a look of doing math in her head. "…mmmsmall?" She unfastens the cloth belt and lets that fall to the floor, not looking at all shy about the resulting exposure. Then she realizes. "Uh..sorry. Kind of…normal for me." She leaves the top intact, taking a second or two to examine the faucet and learn its particular ways, operating it soon enough, running the water over her hand.

* * *

"Oh…right. Okay. Yes. You uh…you go and shower now." Trish clears her throat as Starfish does what she does. She looks away toward the rest of her apartment. "Enjoy your shower and I'll um…I'll be out there if you need me." She places the hair brush and tooth brush by the sink and closes the bathroom door behind her while she waits for Starfish.

* * *

Minutes, far fewer than one might expect later, Starfish is done, emerging with absolutely everything in order, wrapped at the waist by towel, the upper silk wrapping more firmly attached and a lot less artistic. She has ensured that there will not be a repeat incident. That towel looks like it was sewn into place, with how tight she got it to stay in place. Turns out under whatever she put in her hair, she's a redhead. Also her face shape is different. This could very well be an entirely different girl. She even looks very relaxed by comparison. "I'm done," she mentions. Even her voice seems different, but it isn't far off. "…I guess that seemed fast… I um… used to have a really strict schedule."

* * *

"Oh, there you are." Trish smiles softly. "I put together some clothes, I don't know if they'll fit or if you need them, but they're in that room just back there, on the bed." She points to said room. "And I found some…I think small shoes? See how they fit, and we can go from there." She's not used to helping people with clothing. It's a new experience for her.

* * *

"Not need, got the towel, the other piece is hanging up. Washed it in the shower. Cleaned up the tub. Relaxed a lot." Despite doing all of that at super-speed? "Once I get the boots back on, it won't matter what I wear. Walking on the pavement like that wasn't comfortable. So gross…" She nears Trish, no fear about her. Fear really isn't something she has shown at all. Not even during the incident. "So…calling. Um. If I tell my parents what happened, they're going to call my doctor. My doctor will recommend I go back into the psych ward. That's where they pump me full of some…really horrible things and pretend it's to help me. Like right now it would be claimed to help with my paranoia if it was overheard. And you can think I'm crazy if you want to. Lots of people do. I'd like it more if you didn't."

* * *

Listening intently, Trish nods along to what Starfish says. After a moment, she speaks up. "Look, far be it from me to tell you what to tell your parents, or anyone else, what happened." She doesn't say whether or not she believes her to be crazy or paranoid. "But if you do have somewhere you want to go or stay, I can call that car company again, and they can take you anywhere, as long as it's not too far away."

* * *

"I'm okay to go home," Starfish replies. "I just.. really really have to be normal. And yeah, no one's normal but that's not the line of discussion i have to face. Too many abnormalities, and I go back to what I can't prove to be an abusive and almost definitely illegal test lab. And it's fine if you don't believe me. You don't even have to pretend to. You've been unbeleivably kind to me, and..I don't think you're looking for repayment…" She pauses. "Are you? I'm..oh. That would put things in a weird context."

* * *

"No." Trish shakes her head. "I'm not looking for repayment. But…" She sighs. "I definitely want to believe you. Which is why, I mean, are you sure you want to go back to your parent's place? If they treat you like you say they do, perhaps you'd be better off living somewhere else?" Not that she'd know where.

* * *

"You're inferring," Starfish informs without a hint of frustration. "Parents want do do no harm but it's my word against some trusted mental health professionals. …maybe if they called the doctor I'd want to not be there… but I want to be there. I'd miss them again." She purses her lips. "…really opening up to you," she murmurs. "You uh…good terms with parents by any chance?" She exmaines the clothes Trish picked out, thoughtful.

* * *

"Maybe I am. And I apologize. It sounded…nevermind. More inferring." Trish agrees. "Sometimes, though, it's important for a parent to believe what you have to say." She shrugs. "But then, I'm not an expert. I'm no parent." She smiles again. "Nothing wrong with opening up to people, really. You could say I open up to people every day as a part of my job." She says softly. "I work in radio." She explains. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?" She asks as she walks toward her kitchen space.

* * *

By the time Trish looks back, Starfish has already changed. The clothes aren't quite complimentary to each other in colour but they fit perfectly somehow. The towel is being neatly folded into a drying state and set on the back of a chair, the silk wrapping being woven over her whole upper body and hips over the other articles, tied into a large bow over her shoulder. "You um.. easy to talk to, different approach from the doctor," Starfish mentions. "But..now I'm conscious of it so, maybe won't work as well." She ventures to kitchen, staying out of there but fascinated by how different it seems to the one she does know. "…just ate before the alley…" She raises her left arm, showing a blue mark made by some permanent type ink. "Definitely would be too much." She's rail thin without being very unhealthy. "Water. Please."

* * *

The time it took Starfish to change is abnormal.

* * *

Looking back, she blinks. "That…was really fast." Trish says. "But then, I guess I should be used to things that are different." She chuckles softly. "Nothing about my life has been 'normal' for a long time." She sighs lightly, smiling still. "No food, okay. I definitely have water." She grabs a cup from her cupboard and the filtered water from the fridge and fills up the cup with water, turning around to pass it over to Starfish. "And there you are."

* * *

"…I have um…quirks," Starfish mentions regarding the speed. "Thanks for not making fun of my name." She sips the water. "Or giving me a weird look about it. I guess…wasn't on your mind at the time. Mine either. Oh…" She gets a thoughtful expression. "Radio. That's like…broadcast. I didn't know that still happened." She sounds impressed instead of mocking. "Not…trying to make fun of that. It's kind of..neat."

* * *

Shaking her head, Trish waves a hand dismissively. "I wouldn't make fun of your name, or your quirks. I have my own quirks. So do a fair few people I know." She nods a little. "That's right. Broadcast. I work in radio broadcast. I have my own radio show." She explains. "And I fully support people who are different, and who have their own set of unique…quirks." She says, giving Starfish a little wink.

* * *

"So…people call in and say stuff live?" Starfish asks, going into puzzled territory. She really seems the type to have trouble with either of those things. "…do you have any um…footage? uh…" She pauses. "No, that's dumb. Recordings?"

* * *

"There is some calling in to my show, yes." Trish nods in confirmation. "However, it's more than that. I actually talk about a lot of different stuff. Sometimes I take callers and sometimes I don't. It depends on the subject and how much time we have, if we've allotted time for questions and comments, that sort of thing." The question of recordings catches her off guard. "Um…I think you can listen to some of my old shows on the radio station website." Going to where she dropped off her purse, she digs through it and pulls out a card and a pen. Turning the card over, she writes something down.

"Here," she says, passing the card to Starfish. "This has my name and contact info on it, if you need to get ahold of me again…if you need help with anything." She explains. "And on the back I've written down the website for the radio station and my radio show."

* * *

As Trish goes, Starfish follows, conscious of getting too close but just wanting to be near. As Trish turns, the girl has somehow managed to take on a new hairstyle, neatly arranged into a bob, and dyed it so rather than carrot top, she's gone crimson and white in a swirling pattern. She gazes at the card that is passed to her, "Um..do you like it? I mean…I can change it again…"

* * *

Looking over the new look intently for a few seconds, Trish nods. "I do. A lot." She smiles a little. "You're quite unique, you know that? But that's a good thing. It does no good to be the same all the time. People who try to be like everyone else tend to be the most boring people around, I think." Which is something she knows all too much about.

* * *

Starfish smiles. It's genuine and awkward for her. "Yeah… unique is a kind word. I…really want to share and you're like…friend. Um.. share secret with friend, I guess…" She moves /well/ out of sight from the outside of the window, becoming an exact copy of Trish, height, build, fashion, like looking into a live video feed. "…please don't scream," Trish's voice adds, as the copy looks very worried suddenly. "Just…demonstration. It's not what you think I think…" Voice same, mannerisms way off. She takes o the exact look she had prior to the incident, wearing combat boots. "See, the boots, big difference."

* * *

There's a blink. And then another blink. Trish doesn't scream, but this is definitely not something she expected, not in a million years. "Well." She pauses and thinks for a moment. "That's different." She speaks slowly, deliberately. "That's quite the ability you have, Starfish." Her tone is that of curiosity. "I wasn't…I didn't know…" She takes a moment and rubs her face with her hand. "So, you can look and sound like other people?"

* * *

"It's… more complicated than that," Starfish admits, her skin tone taking on the same pattern, apparent texture and colouration as Trish's purse. "Not…limited to copying." A shift to a white and blue candy striped pattern. She is showing quite a lot of skin and it covers all that shows, then seems to gradually shift back to the pale tone of before. "I…can't really explain. I just… do."

* * *

"Well, that's…it's…" Trish shakes her head. "That's definitely something unique. It's not anything I've ever seen before." Leaning on her counter, she looks at Starfish, and taking in the sight before her. "You truly are amazing." She murmurs. "You're just full of surprises it would seem. Not that that's a bad thing, mind you. Surprises can be good."

* * *

Starfish loses the boots. Just gone. "…so… outfit, is it … anything in particular that makes it so weird? I saw it in a movie once. Really old movie. Um. Mummy based. I love how it feels." From under the silk wrap's folds, she draws out the articles she had picked up earlier, folding them neatly. "And…now I don't know if I can go out with it on again…"

* * *

Starfish momentarily looks like an actress from the 1940-50s, black-and-white and everything.

* * *

"It's not so much weird as…" Okay, maybe it's a bit weird, but Trish doesn't know what all to say. "I'm amazed." She decides that's the right word. For now. "It's just, this isn't anything I've come across before." She explains. "The…the abilities I've heard of are like…super strength and telekinesis and…and super speed and telepathy and stuff like that. I never imagined someone with abilities like yours, I suppose." She explains.

* * *

Starfish looks like she is trying to figure out something. "Oh. Yeah, it is weird. But… outfit subject, not um… method… people staring. Why? Can I add something to make them stare less? …I'm really sure it's not from wearing something somewhere I shouldn't…"

* * *

"If something is out of place, or doesn't seem to fit in with what a person believes others should look or act like, they're going to stare." Trish says. "If you don't want people to stare, you need to notice how people are dressing and what people look like. If you look like everyone else, they'll stare less." She explains. "However, being like everyone else isn't always a good thing."

* * *

"Can't be…everyone else," Starfish muses. "Well, I mean… it's possible, but…boring. And not me." She thoughtfully touches the silk wrapping, "They stared with the boots on too, so…that's not it." She changes the entire look to …jungle queen, tiger-skin with fuzzy bracers and anklets. "Tigers are scary, right?"

* * *

"Honestly, people will probably stare at you more looking like that." Trish explains. "Just…nobody looks like that, I'm afraid. Not in the city." She sighs softly. "I'm not going to tell you to not be yourself. Just be safe. That's my best advice."

* * *

Starfish gets closer to Trish, hearing keywords. "Why?" she asks. "What makes them stare? at…this I mean. it's got to be different for every time I get the weird looks… the looks are different. I can't…place why."

* * *

"It's because…" Trish never thought she'd be trying to explain something like this to anyone. It's new for her. "How a person dresses, their appearance, it has an affect on how much people look at them. If you take what I'm wearing. If you wore this, people would probably look at you a bit less. Or stare less, anyway." She explains.

* * *

Starfish ajdusts the tiger pattern to match Trish's colours and textures, as best she can with the smaller coverage. "I like the other outfit more," she admits. "Just..really loose and all the contact was from top down. Other than the boots."

* * *

"The other outfit looked more fun, I'll admit." Trish smiles and nods. "It's society, unfortunately, that dictates what's 'normal' or 'ordinary'. I don't always agree with it, but I've learned how to play the game." She explains. "I've had to. I've been in the spotlight since I was young."

* * *

Starfish mentions, "I can um…make something for you that…is it but…won't stay for long. Like.. an hour? Maybe two." She scratches her head, seeming to pull from behind it a replica of the outfit, only /tiny/, laying it on the table. "…also larger." She draws one about double the size from beneath the wrapping, on a tiny hangar. "But…yeah. Vanishes."

* * *

"You can…make things out of thin air that eventually vanish. You are quite talented, it seems!" Trish whistles and clucks her tongue. "You're quite capable of doing a fair bit, aren't you?" She places a hand on her hip as she watches Starfish. "You know what? I am quite glad that I met you."

* * *

Stafish looks self-conscious. "Still learning…just what I can make." She murmurs. "but Starfish why don't you just show this to your parents, because then they might freak out and I don't want to be on anyone's gossip list…" She looks up at Trish. "sorry, conversation that played out a dozen times when I ask myself that."

* * *

"I can understand where you're coming from." Trish says quietly. "I've been the centre of a lot of gossip columns." She explains. "But one thing that I've learned? Gossip doesn't last as long as you think it will."

* * *

"I…think I want to not be famous," Starfish replies. "And…I would be. and that's the best possible scenario of word getting out. Also I have a name that no one forgets. Just..not for the right reason."

* * *

"Fame has it's ups and downs, that's for certain." Trish nods. "Starfish is definitely not a name people come across very often. It's a curious name. But I like it." She smiles widely. "I wonder how your parents came up with it?"

* * *

"Well, it's..easier to explain than you'd think," Starfish replies. "Fish. Stars. Poetic. JUst..wish they realized it was already a word…"

* * *

"Oh…well, there you go! That was pretty simple to explain." Trish nods. After a little while more of talking, Trish called for the car service again, as promised, to take Starfish where she wanted to go.


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