Guess I am continuing. Sorry if it's not that great, I kind of rushed. Thanks for the review Mandje002! (:
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Cameron was, to put it lightly, an arrogant bitch. Well, not entirely. Warren tried to see the best in people, he really did. He seldom judged on appearance (seeing how he probably looked shady for wearing trench coats all the time) and withheld judgment until he really knew a person. And right now, it was easy to tell what kind of person Cameron was.
On the outside, she looked like any other teenager; faded highlights in her knotted hair, hooker-esque boots, a miniskirt that would put Supergirl to shame, and an assortment of neon bracelets and fake silver rings (none of which, Warren was relieved to know, scratched his face when she punched him in the jaw). She was pretty looking, if Warren had to say, with full lips and long lashes, the remaining smudges of makeup subtle. But, there was a permanent expression of some sort of egoism, such that the mutant felt uneasy just by looking her in the eye. He didn't trust Cameron. No, he really didn't.
As they walked through multitudes of narrow streets, climbing rusty fences that blocked their path, she joked throughout, mostly about mutants. There were scathing remarks and stories, meant to be humorous and taken lightly, but instead, somehow irked Warren. He should be use to it, mutant-hate was national, but every time Cameron opened her mouth to give another "Three mutants walk into a bar", Warren wanted to shout.
"This guy was shooting lasers from his eyes, all stocky and shit. Not that I was afraid or anything. I kick ass in a fight, and-"
"How old are you?" blurted out Warren. He hadn't meant to ask her that (Well, he was kind of wondering. He didn't want people, if they saw him, to think he was some kind of pedophile too. Imagine that on the news.) Cameron stopped walking, and Warren almost stepped into her, expecting her to completely ignore his question. She turned to look at him, raising a thin eyebrow.
"How old are you?"she retorted, bringing her pink painted nails to rest on her hips, jutting them out and leaning slightly, accenting her chest. She even stood like a hooker. For an entirely too long second, Warren wondered if she actually was a hooker. He tried to scrub away those thoughts, focusing on his age. Now was not the time to be thinking about hookers.
"Twenty-one," he answered truthfully, a slight movement of his shoulders. Cameron nodded appreciatively, some stringy hair getting into her vision, prompting her to brush them back behind her pierced ear.
"Cool. You can buy me a drink one day," she remarked, turning and strutting away, a slight bounce in her step. Flabbergasted, Warren marched after her, falling in step beside the human.
"What about you?"he pressed. God, he hoped she wasn't underage and wandering around dressed like that. That would raise too many questions he didn't really care for but knew his guilty conscience would force him to find answers to.
"Eighteen," was the flippant response. Warren let out an inward sigh of relief. At least he didn't look like a pedophile now, not that that really mattered in the current situation. He furrowed his eyebrows. Why was it so hard for him to stay on track with one thought? Must be the anxiety, he reasoned.
"You go to school? College?" questioned Warren, more so to make conversation than anything else. He highly doubted she of all people would be interested in education.
"Nope," responded Cameron, looking straight ahead as they walked down an empty, thin street, every pile of black trashbags they came across almost screaming biohazard
"I'm a free girl. Material possessions slow one down," she said, her voice growing wistful as she tried to sound philosophical. Warren resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Says the girl that is trying to weasel $400 out of him.
"Heard there's a pretty nifty school in New York for muties though. You go there?"added Cameron, not really sounding interested at all.
"No," responded Warren, but he filed away this little tidbit for the future. A school for mutants? That sounded…campy. And it was coming from Cameron's mouth, so only God knows how true it is.
"Where are we going?"asked Warren, now aware that Cameron was leading him to more and more shambled streets and alleys, none of which looked like the best place to even be walking. A fine layer of mud caked the pavement and every few feet someone had dropped a paper cup or takeout bag, all pressed into the ground in response to so many feet stepping upon them.
"I know a place. Low security. Get in, get out," stated Cameron, smirking ahead. Unsure of what she meant, Warren opened his mouth to raise another question but all of a sudden Cameron stopped, and jutted her arm out to impede him as well. He felt the tips of her thin fingers press against his abs, her hand oddly cold despite the warm weather. They were at a T section, an alley on both their right and left. Cameron was looking both ways as if checking for traffic, twisting her head in both directions suspiciously.
"I believe it's-" She paused, stretching the last word out. "Right." With that, she turned and walked past him, her absent fingers leaving his skin feeling almost prickly.
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"Okay," asserted Cameron, taking full command as she stood in front of the glass door to a shop with an unreadable sign on top; it was just barely hanging on by the nails which looked to be rusted and overall sloppy since they were screwed in at an angle. They were out in broad daylight, something that made Warren flinch every time a car passed by or a person shambled along on the other side of the street. No one seemed to notice him, thankfully because they were too preoccupied with themselves and if Warren had to guess, it was only 10 AM. Adding that they weren't on any main road (he assumed), he was practically invisible. This did nothing to ease his tension, as he attempted to pull the coat closer across his bare chest. He only managed to hear a couple of seams pop.
"We go in, follow me. Be cool, not all freaky birdboy mutant, 'kay?" Cameron ordered. Not waiting for his response, or lack thereof, she climbed the two step stoop and pushed the door open, a single bell chiming as they entered.
First, it smelled. Like a mix of scented candles and, Warren winced, piss. Augh. Cameron didn't seem to notice, ignoring not only the smell but the young cashier at the other side of the shop who sent her a cautious look, a Playboy magazine blatantly obvious in his gangly hands. She marched to the aisle at the back of the store. As he followed, Warren realized all the shelves were made of chipped wood that was in bad need of a glossing. The entire place looked musty, and everything was in natural tones, the lighting sucked, and Warren wondered where the hell he was. This couldn't be a drugstore. Hell no.
Upon reaching Cameron's location, Warren found her sifting through a set of clothing hanging against the wall, from patterned trousers to vintage skirts. And trench coats. Beautiful, long, trench coats. Cameron grabbed the lengthiest one, a beige color with odd subtle stains and frayed edges, and placed it up against his person with a critical eye.
"Looks like a fit. Let's get out of here," she said quietly, before she pulled her backpack around and unzipped it. Warren's blue eyes widened as he watched her begin to jam the coat into her bag while creeping to the end of the aisle. Knowing words wouldn't stop her, Warren reached forward to grab Cameron's upper arm, pulling her away from the aisle's edge.
"What are you doing?"he whispered, his anxiety that he tried so hard to quell growing as he searched her mossy eyes for any sense of guilt. She looked excited.
"What does it look like? This place is easy as hell. Now c'mon," she said, raising her eyebrows and grinning. She attempted to pull out of his grasp but he held tight.
"You can't steal," blurted Warren, trying to keep his voice down, aware that the cashier was only a couple of yards away in the cramped shop. Not only did his thoughts wander, but now he was saying things without thinking. He really was starting to lose it.
Cameron's amusement turned to mild annoyance. "What's your problem? I'm trying to help you, now let go." Warren shook his head. He wasn't going to stoop so low as to steal. It may be the easiest way out of his current predicament, but it was…immoral! It didn't feel right, and although Cameron would no doubt judge him for his decision, he just couldn't take something with a flick of his wrist. Maybe it was his upbringing, or social status, or pride, but it didn't feel right.
"I'm not letting you do this," he said steadily, pulling the trench coat out of her half zipped bag and holding it out behind him. "There are other ways."Cameron started pulling against his hold, eyes now on his hand that was firmly wrapped around her upper arm.
"Let me go," she hissed out, the aggravation now sounding more like…nervousness? Yes, Warren conceded, that had to be it, nervousness. She was afraid they would get caught.
"Is there a problem here?" Speak of the devil. The young cashier with greasy hair and oddly cut stubble was standing a few feet from the aisle's end, giving the two a hard look. It wasn't that intimidating, considering the cashier looked about 16.
"No, my sister and I were just leaving," responded Warren, forcing a smile on his face; his father had taught him a lot about putting on a face. Not waiting for Cameron's reaction, he stuffed the coat into the clothes rack (hearing it drop) and rushed past the cashier who was giving him a "yeah, you better run" glare. Cameron, to Warren's relief, stumbled after him, arm still in his hand as they stepped out of the store.
Pretty sure she wouldn't try anything he deemed inappropriate, Warren let go, and Cameron immediately jumped away, wrapping her free hand around the spot he was holding earlier. To his utter confusion, instead of spitting out obscenities or insulting him, Cameron looked – frightened. Stunned. She started to back away.
"You've got a good grip," she muttered humorlessly before turning and stalking away as fast as possible without running. Confused, Warren hurried after her, one part of his mind screaming he was way better off alone and another wondering why the cashier didn't notice his more than obvious wings trailing from under the jacket. He really needed to focus.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he called, quickly falling into step with her. She was still clutching the spot on her arm he had held her by. Her entire body looked diminutive, a start contrast to her earlier bravado through posture.
"Leave me alone," she bit out, not even looking at him, before turning into the alley they had previously passed through. Even more confused, and starting to reach the end of his patience, Warren strode past her until he blocked her path.
"What's wrong with you?" he scowled, furrowing his eyebrows. He didn't want to be harsh, or anything of that sort, but he had a few pressing problems to deal with and she wasn't exactly helping like she had promised. Cameron finally brought her eyes up to his, full of hostility and…hurt? Warren may have been good with putting on a façade but he wasn't very talented in reading people, no matter how much his father trained him.
"Get out of my damn way!"she barked, pushing past him, her hand now squeezing her upper arm. Following her with his eyes, Warren felt something hit him, realization dawning. Quickly, he jogged to catch up with her near-run stride and once again stepped to block her path, catching both her shoulders with his hands.
"Get off me!" This wasn't a bark. It was a cry. She tried to shake him off, but Warren needed to know what was going on.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked, leaning over to reach eye level with her, and using the softest voice he could manage at the moment. Okay, stupid question. Of course she wasn't okay, she just did a 180 on the mood wheel. Not that Warren really cared, he just felt it was the right thing to ask.
"I'm fine, now let go!"she wasn't looking at him, rather, her eyes were flitting right and left to his hands that he had placed on her shoulders to hold her in place. It all snapped into place.
"Someone hurt you," breathed Warren. It was not a question. His eyes flickered to where her hand gripped her arm.
"I hurt you," he stated, easing up so his hands were now simply resting on her shoulders. "I'm sorry." Sometimes, Warren didn't know his own strength, he really didn't. He had a suspicion that it all had to do with his mutant ability. Some days, he snapped a pencil in half while writing, other days, his glass would shatter if he just tightened his grip. He didn't like to dwell on it, especially when he had spent most of his life pretending he was just like everyone else.
"Leave me alone," hissed Cameron, now looking him in the eye with animosity, almost as if she was ready to lash out. Warren steeled his gaze. He didn't particularly like Cameron, but from her behavior he had to guess she had been abused or something to that effect. Her reaction was too strong. Once again his eyes drifted to her upper arm. He hoped he didn't bruise it. That would be another accident.
"I'm sorry. I don't know my own strength, it has to do with my mutation. Sometimes, sometimes things happen and I don't mean them to. Do you understand? I didn't mean to hurt you, that was never my intention," he explained, trying to show some sympathy. It wasn't that it was difficult, it was just not as easy as he expected. Those damn mutant jibes kept ringing about in his head, keeping his distrust of her fueled. Cameron shrugged out of his loose hold and backed away before turning around, her back facing him. There was a moment of silence which Warren found to be ridiculously long, adding to his long list of grievances at the moment. He took a deep breath. He needed to relax, it wasn't like he was on a schedule. Deal with the now, which was currently Cameron.
"You tried to steal my jacket from me. What makes that store any more different?" Warren blinked at her monotone.
"I planned to return it. I said I would borrow it," he asserted, knowing it sounded stupid to anyone but himself. Cameron let out a humorless chuckle and slowly turned to face him, hands at her side and one strap of her brown bag hanging off her shoulder.
"You're really weird, you know?" she said, giving him a grim smile. Warren just shrugged and offered her a forced lopsided smile, but not like his father taught him.
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Cameron is starting to look more and more like Jody...I don't own Jody (who Cameron is based on. She isn't actually Jody) or T:SCC, I swear! Heehee, please review, thanks.
