My Mistake [Gidget/WR]

The sight of a certain snarky short stack in a public space such as the market was a rare one, especially in the middle of a weekday when people were aimlessly wandering about their everyday lives. Their general disdain for crowds was usually enough to deter from social interaction unless absolutely necessary - which, aside from "work", was rarely the case. Most days, they could go by without uttering a single word, allowing their body to do most of the talking. In the Underground, there was a mutual understanding of basic needs; clothes for warmth; shelter from weather; money for food; and of course, jobs to obtain said money. If you were lucky enough, your acceptance of the right job & involvement with the right people could earn you a more luxurious life, but truthfully anything was more luxurious than surviving off of necessity alone.

Today, each of those necessities was met... except for one: What the fuck were they going to eat? They glanced down at their stomach as it growled from neglect, lightly resting a hand over it as their eyes darted from shop to shop. They were clad in mostly black: black shoes, ripped black pants, ripped black t-shirt with some random band logo strewn across the front... and then there was the tattered brown jacket they donned with pride, which absolutely gave away the unfortunate circumstances of their lifestyle if nothing else did & was absolutely way too big for them. They stuck out like a sore thumb, at least in the more uptown areas of Telluride. The marketplace had a rather generous melting pot of circumstance; you could find anyone from anywhere either running a small niche business or browsing everything the famous city had to offer... so really, it was a fair game of chance.

WR was far from rich, but between savings from "touring" with Morei Skies & compensation from involvement in the Underground, especially as a street artist, they had more money than they ever knew what to do with, & what did they spend it on? Absolutely fuck all nothing. Money had always been such a secondary necessity to them that now that they had it, they didn't know what to do with it. In fact, Gremlin was the only reason they had even considered venturing out to the market. Normally they would just satiate their hunger with instant ramen or a shitty sandwich, but having been exposed to a decent meal for once... they wanted to indulge in this newfound commodity. 

And so, they skulked their way to the heart of the market & wound up in a cute little grocery store that specialized in mostly fresh meat & produce. They idly grabbed a few things that would keep for a couple of days to save them a trip next week & shoved past the small crowd that had since gathered in the store. They had claimed a spot in line & began to (im)patiently tap their foot on the faded tile when they suddenly made out the uttering of a familiar voice - ironically, it was Gremlin. Their ears perked & their eyes shifted to the scene. Almost instinctively, they began to shove their way to the front of the line to see what the problem was.

Between the frantic motions of the purple hooded troll & the annoyed glare from the cashier, they were able to quickly put two & two together. They slipped a hand into one of their deep, fleece pockets & pulled out a bill at random, slamming it on the counter along with the few things they had gathered. 

"Keep the change," they said with a low growl rumbling in the back of their throat. Their gaze was sharp, alight with fire, & their arm subconsciously wrapped around Gremlin, as if protecting her from the cruel, sheer evil that was public, social interaction.