It sounded like a group of disoriented drunks, their footsteps uncoordinated and fickle in certainty. There was a clambering at the front door, as if someone had fallen into it, and then it finally opened.

The Bluehead had been lazing on the couch with a book in her face for the last hour, but she sat up quickly as she listened to the commotion taking place just across the room. She looked towards the small foyer to see that the three males had returned, and they were looking worse for wear.

Vegeta was standing by the doorway, that typical spoiled pout planted on his face. He was watching Gohan and Piccolo as the two got situated, which didn't seem as if it was proving to be an easy task. Piccolo had nearly tripped over himself as he stepped inside, still holding Gohan in his arms. The boy was looking rather dazed, and he was sitting in his mentor's hold like a frightened dog.

"What happened to you?" The Bluehead asked, setting her book aside. "You all look like someone beat you up."

"Put him on the couch next to her." Vegeta ordered to Piccolo, ignoring Bulma's question. She sat up straighter when she got a better look at Gohan as he was carried over. "What on-?"

"Ah!" Gohan hissed as he was set on the couch. He threw his head back, biting on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

"I know, kid." Piccolo gruned. "But trust me. It's better to be like this than it is to be dead."

"What-?" Bulma tried again. She turned towards Vegeta, only to see that he was no longer standing in the doorway. Instead he was heading towards the hall, leaving her alone in the living room with their two guests. She was still upset with the saiyan, but she felt more comfortable asking him for information than she did Piccolo. "Hey!"

She jumped off the side of the couch, breaking into a run as she went after him. She caught up to him, stopping in the doorway of the bathroom to watch Vegeta at work. He was mumbling under his breath, pulling drawers open and searching through them, obviously unable to find whatever it was he was looking for.

"Vegeta..." She said. It was still sinking in that something had gone terribly wrong, and her voice was softening as the worry deepened. "What happened?"

"Where's that damned healing ointment?" The saiyan barked, slamming another drawer in frustration.

"It's in that cabinet – the one under the sink."

"Oh. That's right, isn't it?" He found it in the exact spot that Bulma had always kept it in. Yanking it from the cabinet as if it had insulted him, he turned on his heel to make for the door.

Bulma, who was standing in the entryway of the bathroom, was blocking his exit. Her eyes widened when she saw his face as he approached, not having gotten a decent look at it until this point. He stopped just in front of her to wait for her to move out of the way, but the Bluehead only stepped closer to him instead.

"Your face..." She sighed. "Veggie..."

He was staring at the doorframe behind the Bluehead, refusing to look at her as she advanced on him. Half of his face was completely unscathed, but the other half was sporting a red bruise that was swelling under his eye. When he heard the concern in her voice he grit his teeth, glaring at the door with even more determination. "I need to go." He growled, clutching the ointment tighter.

"Did those teenagers find you guys?" She breathed.

He didn't answer.

It was then that she raised a hand, carefully brushing his soft fingertips against the outer edge of his bruise. "Did they...?"

The saiyan's hand flew up to catch her wrist, restraining the Bluehead from rubbing him anymore. Bulma's breath caught in her throat, but she didn't resist his hold. Instead she stood frozen in place, watching Vegeta carefully for any hint of an answer that might be hidden on his face. The saiyan had finally turned to look the Bluehead in the eyes, glaring at her as he breathed. His fingers, gripping her so tightly, still managed to feel careful as he sslowly pushed her hand back from his head.

They stared at one another wordlessly, the Bluehead's lips slightly parted as she fight to keep her composure. His pupils trailed across her face, taking in her features, and his own expression softened. Then, all too abruptly, he stepped back. "Ask me later." He grunted, swiftly moving around her frame and disappearing back into the living room.

… The sounds that quickly followed kept Bulma from leaving the bathroom. Instead she sat on the floor with her back against the counter, cringing as she listened to the scene unfolding on the other side of the wall…

"What is that?" Piccolo asked when he saw Vegeta return with that purple tube in his hand.

"Healing ointment." The saiyan replied shortly as he approached the couch. As soon as he reached Gohan he dropped to his knees in order to be level with the boy.

It was then that he got to work.

In one swift movement Vegeta grabbed Gohan's pants and ripped them open at the location of the fractured bone. He could see the injury site, a large welt that was protruding out from underneath the unbroken skin.

Without a word of warning he grabbed the leg on both sides of the wound, tugging forcefully in a quick jerk.

"AHHH!" Gohan screamed, his body convulsing out from the couch cushions he was sitting on. Piccolo was quick to restrain him, holding him in place as the saiyan worked.

"The bone needed to be set." Vegeta growled in explanation. Even as Gohan continued to pant and fight against his mentor's hold, the saiyan narrowed his eyes in concentration as he focused on the bruising skin. Carefully he raised an index finger to point it at the flesh…

… The sound of Gohan's screams were loud enough to leave the windows rattling, nearby birds taken off in the sky outside.

It was enough to instantly trigger sympathetic tears in Bulma's eyes as she continued to sit on the bathroom floor. Kami, she couldn't bear to hear the boy in such pain. She hid her face in her knees, counting backwards from twenty to distract herself, hoping that this would all be over as soon as possible.

Gohan's ki was rising as he screamed, furiously clawing at Piccolo's arms in desperation. The scratches were enough to draw blood, but Piccolo didn't relent in restricting the boy. "Let me go! Let me go!" Gohan barked, sweat pouring down his temples as he yelled. Vegeta was actively slicing the flesh of his leg open with the beam that was shooting from his finger, a pain more excruciating than the child ever imagined he'd encounter

Blood was bubbling out of his wound as the beam penetrated the muscle, separating the tissue into a long opening that ran down his thigh, deep enough to reveal the bone.

"Stop moving!" Vegeta growled, biting the lid of the tube off before quickly pouring all of the remaining ointment into the wound as the child continued to thrash. Gohan body was fast in absorbing the goo as it drained into his leg, and it was only a couple of seconds before the boy's screamed had faded into raspy pants. He stopped struggling against Piccolo's hold, his limbs going limp as he gasped.

"This ointment is healing, but only to open wounds." Vegeta explained, in a way that came off as if he were lecturing the two. "It wouldn't penetrate deep enough to reach the bone on its own, and that's why I had to make an incision into the skin. Your bones are healing as I speak. You'll be fine after you sleep on it."

Piccolo let go of Gohan then, stepping back to see with more clarity what had been done. The boy's bleeding had already clotted to a halt, and he looked to Vegeta as he straightened his posture on the couch. "You could have warned me!" He croaked, his voice cracking from its high pitch.

"Warned you? So that you would be more prepared to fight Piccolo off? So that you would understand what was happening and be afflicted with the mental anguish of it? I did you a favor in not warning you, and it's over now, boy."

Gohan looked down to his leg shyly, as if he were frightened of what he would see. The room fell silent as he studied his own injury. Vegeta rose to his feet and walked to the kitchen in order to discard the empty ointment tube, and when he returned Gohan was still studying himself in shock.

"Veggie..." A soft voice said then, breaking the quiet.

Everyone turned to see Bulma standing at the end of the hall, her head poking into the room shyly. She watched the three with trepidation, feeling as if there was no point in trying to ask what had happened for the hundredth time.

The look on her face was so timid, and she looked more like a frightened girl in that moment than she did a grown woman. She was staring right at the saiyan sadly, her blue orbs shimmering as light reflected from them.

The saiyan was taken by how vulnerable she appeared, and he found himself wanting to comfort her in spite of himself. "Bulma…" Vegeta said slowly, and he licked his lips dryly. Without thinking about it, the sides of his eyes had crinkled into a smirk that he meant to be reassuring. "Perhaps you'll cook something large so we can all eat. We wouldn't want our guests to go hungry, now, would we?"

"Is everything..." The Bluehead took his tone as affirmation that whatever had been going on was resolved, and she carefully stepped into the room. "Is everything alright?" She was biting her lower lip now.

"Of course. We can talk about this later, but right now it's getting late. Will you make us some food?" He widened his smirk then, nodding at her as he continued staring into her glossing irises. "Will you do that for us? Bulma…"

He'd said her name with meaning, and hearing his tone seemed to work in calming her nerves. Her eyes softened to a much less fearful state, and her posture straightened to something far more confident and fitting of her character. "I don't know how much we have for groceries." She said. "We'll probably run out."

"That's okay. You're clever." The saiyan replied. "I know you'll come up with something good."

Bulma nodded, her lips pursed into a smile as she speed-walked through the room.

.

To say the first half of the evening meal was silent would have been an understatement. Gohan sat across from Bulma, staring down at his plate with another dazed look on his face as he picked at it. Piccolo, who had almost always been by Gohan's side up until this point, had chosen to plant himself at the far end of the table so he could calmly eat his meal with as much privacy as possible. And Vegeta, who smelled strongly of soap and shampoo from the shower he'd taken while Bulma cooked, was seated right by her side as he viciously wolfed down a countless number of plates with lightning speed.

That was the only sound at all as the four ate together - the noise of ravenous chewing and clicking of dishes as Vegeta expertly sped through his food. This was how he always ate, and the Bluehead had grown used to it by now. He always treated each meals as if he might never eat again.

Finally, after a pile of dirty dishes had accumulated at the saiyan's side, he pushed himself back from the table to signify that he was done. This was the first time that he actually looked up to see Gohan and his lack of enthusiasm for his food. "Eat, boy." He commanded the child. "You won't heal as quickly if you don't fill your stomach."

Gohan sighed, looking to Vegeta with distrustful eyes. "I'm not hungry."

"Gohan," Bulma said. "You've lost a lot of blood today. Vegeta is right, you need to eat."

"I can't..." He muttered. "I really don't feel hungry, Miss Bulma."

"Kid..." Piccolo croaked from the opposite end of the table.

Gohan looked to his mentor, shooting him an expression that said 'come on, can't you side with me on this?'

"Even if you aren't hungry, you need to heal so we can train tomorrow." Piccolo said, ignoring the boy's pleading face.

With a scowl and a groan, Gohan finally plopped a piece of chicken into his mouth. That single taste seemed to set off a trigger within, for only a moment later he was desperately shoveling food into his face just as fast as Vegeta had.

"See?" Bulma smiled, trying her hardest to sound comforting. She stood so she could go prepare another plate, anticipating that he'd want more. "You're just like your father was. He could never turn down cooked food."

"Just like his father..." Vegeta echoed with a growl. And once Bulma had disappeared into the kitchen, he turned on the child. "Tell me, boy. Did your father ever change form the way you can?"

"Change?" Gohan asked, crumbs of food flying from his mouth as he pondered.

"Swallow before you speak, boy! How barbaric!" The saiyan prince grouched, as if he hadn't just spent the last fifteen minutes gulping down his plate quicker than he was able to chew.

"What do you MEAN change?" Gohan said after gulping down a mouthful of rice.

"Don't play stupid with me! I'm talking about what you pulled back there during our match!" The saiyan snapped. He was still bitter that this kid was able to do such a thing, and his anger was reawakening.

"I don't know..." Gohan froze, temporarily forgetting about his meal. He had already sworn to Mister Piccolo countless times that he never could remember what happened when he got to such a state. All he knew was that he felt as if his mind was being torn to shreds as he remembered the image of his mother being killed. And, as if jumping through a time warp, the next thing he would register was how out of breath he felt as he recovered from some inconceivable event that had just unfolded. All he could depend on during those times was Piccolo's account of what happened. And the stories he'd heard never sounded like anything he'd ever actually do…

Piccolo had told him that he'd attacked the two that had killed his mother. He'd tried to kill them in retaliation. But Gohan couldn't believe it. He'd never do something like that… He just couldn't fathom trying to actually hurt someone.

Not even them…

"Vegeta..." Bulma's voice announced, interrupting the tension that was quickly building in the room. Gohan looked up to see the Bluehead walking to him with another plate of food. She placed it down beside the one he was still working on before returning to her seat. She turned to the saiyan then, muttering under her breath. "Let him finish eating…"

"This doesn't concern you!" The saiyan hissed in exasperation.

"Yes it does! He is the son of my best friend, and I'm saying to let him eat!" She hissed back.

With a huff, the saiyan crossed his arms over his chest and turned to squint at the boy. He watched closely as the child resumed the act of stuffing his face. Trying to piece together how such a thing was possible, trying desperately to find a way for it all to make sense. This was the half-breed child of a low class warrior that had abandoned his mission long ago. And with all the evidence he had, Vegeta could tell that this boy had been given no prior experience to anything even remotely physical.

How could he be the one to achieve something that the saiyan race had presumed to be mere legend? How could this child be the one to make the change?

.

The aftermath of dinner was… well, awkward.

It took nearly two hours of scrubbing in order to clean all of the dirty dishes accumulated by the four, during which Piccolo and Vegeta had disappeared. After finishing with her work and seeing the time, Bulma decided it would be appropriate to retreat to her room for the night. As she crossed the house it took careful footwork in order to silently pass by Gohan, who had fallen asleep on the couch long before.

When the Bluehead stepped into the bedroom and carefully palmed the door shut behind her, she was hardly surprised to see that Vegeta was already sitting on her bed and looking as if he'd been waiting for her.

With Gohan lounging on the couch and Piccolo sleeping in a nearby tree outside, where else did the saiyan have to go?

He was watching her intently, his arms folded across his chest as he scowled. They hadn't been on good terms for a week. In fact, the two had hardly even spoken for four days. If anything would prove to be an icebreaker, though, it certainly was all that had occurred that evening. The Bluehead, who had been silently resenting the saiyan during their time apart, was actually feeling captivated by the soft way in which he'd spoken to her earlier…

Conflicted and confused, she broke her eyes away from the saiyan to look to the floor. Silently she went for the dresser so she could retrieve a set of thin sleepwear, running her hands over the fabric before she turned back to Vegeta. "Can I have some privacy?" She asked calmly, trying to keep her voice down so as to not wake the slumbering child that was resting just a few walls away.

"For what?" The saiyan replied.

"So I can change."

"You need privacy for that?" He scoffed. "As if I haven't seen everything already."

"That was different." Bulma pursed her lips. "And you know it."

Vegeta sat back, making a large show out of putting his hands over his eyes and clearing his throat. "Your modesty is so random, but it does amuse me."

"Yes, well I'm sure you aren't used to it where you come from." Bulma huffed, pulling her shirt off over her head.

… A few moments later she had pulled on her sleepwear, a small cotton shirt to match an even smaller pair of fitting shorts. "I'm done." She announced as she scooped her dirty clothes into her arms and carried them to a hamper that was in a corner.

"What was that supposed to mean, anyway?" Vegeta spoke for the first time since covering his eyes. He brought his hands down so he could look at her, eying Bulma's figure up and down as he took in her new outfit.

"What was what supposed to mean?" She asked back. She was now standing at her dressing table, running a brush through her shoulder length locks as she admired herself in the mirror.

"That comment of yours. You said I'm not used to modesty where I come from."

"Oh." She raised her eyebrows, not missing a beat as she continuing to brush her blue mane. "You know what I meant. The girls you're used to must not have cared if you watched them change. That would explain why you thought me wanting privacy was random."

"Girls?" He smirked again. Vegeta raised a coy eyebrow at her observation, though she didn't see because her back was still turned. "And how many girls do you think I've bedded, Woman?"

"There's no telling, is there?" Bulma sighed. She was pulling open the top drawer of the dressing table, dropping her brush into it carefully. "I just assumed you've had your share of conquests. Going to all stretches of the universe, meeting countless women during your missions. You seriously didn't think I wouldn't be ignorant enough to not conclude that, did you?"

The mattress creaked as the saiyan rose, and he moved so fast that Bulma didn't have time to even face him. One moment she was shutting her drawer, and the next she was being thrown on the bed. Her body consequently bounced as her back hit the mattress, and she let out a small "oomf!".

The saiyan was crawling over her in the next instant, his body sinking into hers as he held himself up off her torso. "And what makes you assume that?" He questioned, his mouth pulled into a half-smile. His hips were pressing into her own, and the Bluehead gasped at the sensation, despite herself.

Feeling indignant, she put a hand to his shoulder. The Bluehead made an attempt to push him off of her, but his frame didn't budge at all. "Vegeta…" She whispered, still trying to keep from waking Gohan. "Stop it."

"Imagine it. I, the prince of all saiyans, carrying out missions and pillaging countless planets throughout my life. In the midst of it all I'd take any woman that I see fit. Is that what you think of me?" He was growling through his teeth. He still had that annoying grin on his face, still staring into her eyes as he pressed himself deeper against her body.

"Vegeta..." She whispered again, this time more firmly. The fact that he seemed to be getting amusement from this was nothing but frustrating. She slapped a hand on his arm as an attempt to make her point. "This isn't funny. Stop it."

"No." He replied, raising an eyebrow again. "Tell me what else you presume about me. What other scenarios do you imagine? What is it that you keep tucked away in the privacy of your mind? I want to know."

"You think this is a joke." Bulma scowled. She tried to push him off again, but with no more success than her previous attempt. "Stop it!"

"How long has it been since our last time together? A full week?" He was still smirking, but he now buried his face in the crook of her neck. One of his palms lowered to massage the back of her thigh, his lips grazing her skin. "It's interesting that you say I've been with so many women..." He continued. "Tell me... Do you want me to take you the same way you think I've done it to the others? Do you assume I took them by force? Ripped their legs apart? Had my way with them exactly as I pleased? Did anything I wanted? Is that what you want? Do continue with your theories, they're quite riveting..."

"I don't know!" Bulma hissed, jolting at his touch. She was quickly losing her ability to keep her voice down, her words having broken into a slight moan as he nipped her jawline. He was teasing her - messing with her! Making her body writhe, whether she meant for it to or not! That in of itself was pissing her off! The Bluehead flailed her leg out from under the saiyan and wrapped it around his frame, landing a kick to the back of his hips. "If it's anything like how we met, then I imagine you forced them all!" She snapped. "I told you to stop! This isn't funny!"

That was it.

Bulma didn't understand why, especially since he was the one who had decided to play this twisted game and had been trying to egg her on. But what she said seemed to set something off inside of him. The smile quickly dropped from his face, and Vegeta pulled away from her neck so he could look at her. He whipped his hand away from the back of her thigh, returning it to a more respectful position. The saiyan stared down at her, and the Bluehead couldn't tell if he was angry or just deep in thought as she glared back and caught her breath.

"I didn't have my way with you by force." He said firmly.

"No, you didn't. But you still took me by force! Away from Goku's house! Against my will!"

He watched her for a few seconds more before speaking again. "And yet you still claim to trust me, and you were so receptive to my physical advances… You admit that you gave yourself to me."

"Yes." She glared. "I know."

"Why?" He scowled. "You confess this so readily, and yet it makes no sense. Why would you be so willing with someone who has done such things?"

"Because I'm not normal!" She hissed back. "Now get off me! This stupid game of yours has already backfired, and I'm starting to get claustrophobic!"

Vegeta rolled off the Bluehead then, pushing himself back to the foot of the bed. Bulma sat up against the headboard. She was running a hand through her hair, which was already a mess after having just brushed it. "Why?" He repeated. "You are fully aware of the conditions in which we met, and yet you're so accepting of it. For someone as logical as you, that is absolutely idiotic. I can't make sense of you, Woman..."

"I already told you that I'm not normal." She huffed. Bulma was now realizing that his question wasn't just hypothetical. He really did want to know why she was so accepting of him, and it was making her cheeks flush. "I can't help it."

"You shouldn't have to even try. You should automatically be able to hate me."

"I know." She replied. "And yet I don't. I don't even dislike you..."

Judging by every time they'd had a similar conversation so far, the Bluehead expected her words to send Vegeta into a rage. She thought he'd surely go on another one of his rants about how cruel everyone could be, how much pain would come from trusting others, and how idiotic she was to be so naïve in such a brutal universe. She thought he might storm off to isolate himself in the gravity room for the rest of the night, to tell her to think about what she'd just said and consider the insanity of her instincts.

She imagined some type of harsh reaction from the saiyan... But as Bulma watched the man across from her, all she saw was his face twist into a telling expression of realization. As if, out of all the times she'd confessed such a thing, this was the first time he was actually hearing what she said. It was enough to spur her to continue…

"… I know you're only here because you want the dragon balls, and you want to find a way to defeat Frieza…" Bulma said carefully. "… I know there's so many things about you that I'll never learn, and I know that once you accomplish your goals I'll never see you again. I know you'll leave and never come back, and you'll move on to the next planet and forget about your time here... You'll find some new girl, you'll have a new goal, and your life will just… go on. Maybe that's why I'm so willing to be around you now. Because, despite all of that… And as stupid as it sounds, I still find you fascinating. This is going to be the only chance I'll ever have to be with you, and I'm perfectly aware of that. I'm selfish enough to set myself up for loss… Because being with you temporarily is still better than never having known you at all."

The saiyan's frown deepened as she spoke, and his eyes began to trail over her body again. To be truthful, he looked as if he'd just been slapped in the face by something big enough to actually inflict damage. Vegeta blinked, his chiseled jaw tightening as he continued to watch the woman in front of him.

Finally, when the two had been staring at each other for so long that Bulma's head had started feeling heavy with fatigue, Vegeta spoke. "I see."

"Yeah." She replied awkwardly, wishing she could think of something to say to change the subject.

"It's getting late." He muttered, pushing himself up from the bed. "Get some rest."

"Where are you going?" Bulma asked.

"Right here." He shut the light off, and the Bluehead listened as he found a spot on the floor at the other end of the room. "I will not be sleeping on the couch with that boy."

Considering the circumstances with their guests, Bulma thought that Vegeta had actually been planning to share the bed with her.

He'd never shared a bed with her, but she'd thought tonight he actually would.

Even during the nights they had spent on better terms, whenever she had fallen asleep as they lay together Vegeta had always excused himself from the room to lay on the couch. Never did he stick around long enough to fall asleep. Never had she woken to see him laying beside her, to feel his assuring presence beside her after having a bad dream.

They hadn't been on good terms all week, and Bulma now realized how much she'd been missing him. When they had been standing close to one another in the bathroom after he'd grabbed the ointment, she'd felt a welt in her stomach. All she'd wanted in that moment was to pull the saiyan down to the tiled floor of the bathroom and ask him to tell her another one of his amazing stories.

The Bluehead had hoped for a night in which they could sit up in bed and speak to each other, just like they used to, until all hostility from the week had been cleared from the air. She'd hoped that they might have been able to make up, or that she'd at least get more of an understanding about why he'd been acting so harsh in recent days…

Bulma frowned through the darkness, wondering why she was so surprised that tonight hadn't gone like that at all. "Okay, Vegeta. Goodnight."

He didn't respond, and she curled into fetal position underneath her large comforter.

They both lay in silence for quite some time, and as Bulma felt her mind being pulled further to sleep, she realized she had forgotten to ask him something that had been bothering her for hours. "Hey, Vegeta?"

"What?" His voice was raspy, and it sounded as if he were already asleep.

"What happened to you guys today? That bruise under your eye? And Gohan's leg? Was it those teenagers? Did they do that to you?"

She couldn't imagine any other scenario. It obviously hadn't been Piccolo, or Vegeta wouldn't have been so accommodating as to actually offer him a meal. It didn't make sense for it to have been anyone else other than the ones who had been on a rampage all over the world.

"No." He grumbled, and she heard the rustle of his body as he rolled over to his side. "It wasn't them. It was the kid that did it."

"What?"

"The kid. Gohan. It was him."

What in the world did that mean? Bulma felt even more confused than she had in the first place. Absolutely perplexed, she was still trying to make sense of what Vegeta had said when she finally fell asleep…

.

... A stern nudging was what ended up waking the Bluehead. Unlike her usual manner of trying to wave Vegeta away and telling him to give her one more hour of rest, Bulma was quick to open her eyes and sit up.

"We're going out." The saiyan said. He was standing over her at the side of the bed, and he looked as if he'd already gotten dressed before waking her.

"Where?" She yawned, arching her back as she eased into an early morning stretch.

"Into town. You said we are out of groceries, so we need to stock up."

She didn't have to be told twice. Excited at the prospect of a change of scenery, Bulma threw her blanket off and rushed to get dressed.

"I suppose you'll be wanting your precious privacy again. Meet me outside." Vegeta said. She was pulling clothes out of her dresser as he walked towards the bedroom door. "I'll be waiting."

It only took five minutes for Bulma to throw on an outfit and brush her teeth. She tiptoed across the dimly lit living room, noting that Gohan was still fast asleep on the couch. And when she stepped outside she saw that the sun was still rising in the sky, and she wondered how early it must have been. Surely it wasn't any later than 8?

Just as he said he would be, Vegeta was waiting for her a few meters from the doorstep. He didn't say a word to her at all as she threw the capsule containing her car out into the grass. The two of them loaded into the vehicle, revved up the engine, and set off.

"How cool that we get to go explore first thing in the morning!" Bulma smiled once the two were in the air.

Vegeta was staring out the window, not bothering to look away from his view. "All we're doing is buying as much food as possible so we can have plenty on reserve. Don't get too excited. You know I don't like you being in that town." He grunted.

"If you don't like me being there, then why-"

"You are coming with because you have a better understanding of which items to collect, and what all we'll need. If I knew anything about food I would have done it all myself, Woman. I assure you that."

"Right." She muttered, biting the inside of her cheek. Despite Vegeta's intensity, her cheerful mood refused to sour. To Bulma, shopping was shopping. It didn't matter if the saiyan was determined to make the trip as straightforward as possible. It didn't matter that she would only be buying food. She was still getting out of the house, wasn't she? She was still going to get to browse through aisles and stretch her legs!

In fact, the Bluehead was so excited that the smile didn't leave her face throughout the entire flight. It wasn't until she was closing in on the town and getting ready to park her car that Vegeta spoke up again. "Don't park over here. I'd rather us start our errands on the other side of side of town."

"What?" She looked to the saiyan. Now, instead of scowling out the window, Vegeta was glaring at her.

"That other side of town. Over there!" He waved his hand out in an attempt to give direction. "I want to go over there first!"

Vegeta was usually much more articulate than this. Why was he was being so vague with his instructions? Bulma had an idea of what his ulterior motive was, and her smile widened. "Where?" She asked.

"Over there, dammit!" He growled. "Let's start on that side of town!"

"Okay, you aren't making much sense." She said, even though she fully understood where he wanted her to go. "I thought we were supposed to just run into the grocery store really fast. Why would I need to park my car so far away from it?"

"It's obviously because I want to make one quick stop before you go into the store!" The saiyan shot.

"I understand that, but where are we stopping that so important?"

"The vendors." He mumbled.

"The what?"

"The vendors! VENDORS, dammit! The vendors!" He was barking now. Vegeta was being so overly defensive, and Bulma was having a hard time trying not to laugh as the saiyan yelled at her. "The ones selling all the cooked food! I want to eat! Do you understand yet?!"

"No, I still don't." She was cringing to keep the cackles retained. "You said we only have time to buy groceries, so-"

"Yes, and if I eat now instead of when we get back home, then our supplies will be rationed for even longer, won't they!"

"Ahh," She nodded. Her struggle to keep from bursting into laughter had left her body trembling as she nodded violently. "I see now. Okay, we'll go to that street that had all the food stalls."

"Finally!" He grunted, easing back into his seat and folding his arms over his chest.

The car hummed as it advanced over the town, Bulma turning the wheel to correct her route. "Hey, Vegeta?"

"What is it now?"

"You sure that part of the reason for this outing wasn't because you were hungry for those kabobs this morning? I mean, I know we need the groceries, but you should admit that you really loved those kabobs."

"SHUT UP!"

.

An hour later Vegeta had stuffed his stomach to full capacity, and he now stood on the sidewalk in front of the grocery store. Looking up and down the street for any sign that danger might be looming, he was counting down the seconds until the Bluehead finished with her errand so they could finally head back.

Bulma had filled her shopping trolley to its brink with various slabs of meat, bags of vegetables, spices, and oils. A lot of what she grabbed had been items that she didn't quite recognize, not having grown up near this region. She'd gone through nearly every aisle in the store, shoveling anything that she felt even remotely confident she'd be able to cook properly into her cart.

It took nearly ten minutes to check out as the cashier calculated her quantities and the total cost. She paid the employee, loaded her arms with the countless number bags that now needed to be hauled, and turned away from the counter.

She was nearing the exit of the store when a woman stepped out from one of the aisles and blocked her path. Bulma had to stop in her tracks to keep from walking into this stranger, some of the bags nearly spilling out from her arms as she did so.

Standing in front of her was a petite lady of about the same height, with straight blonde hair that was cut just above her shoulders. She looked as if she couldn't have been any older than 19, and she was wearing a shirt that was covered in rips and stains. Her blue eyes were narrow as she looked at Bulma, and her expression was so blank that the Bluehead had a hard time guessing what this sudden interruption could have possibly been about. "Hey." The stranger said slowly. Her voice was so… cool sounding, despite her abruptness… It was odd, to be sure, but the Bluehead wasn't in any mood for conversation.

Who was this lady? Couldn't she see that Bulma's arms were full? The Bluehead was in a big hurry to get everything outside so she could capsulate it before it all went spilling out of her grip onto the store's floor! Wouldn't that have been obvious enough just by watching? Why would this stranger choose now to decide to start a conversation?!

"I like your jacket." The lady said, not waiting to hear Bulma's reply. Her face was still so unnaturally neutral, her words quiet yet blunt. She didn't even blink as she stared into the Bluehead's eyes. "Give it to me."

"Excuse me?" Bulma squawked. The heat was already flushing to her cheeks as she stepped back. What did that lady just ask her?!

"I said I want your jacket. I need new clothes, and I like yours. Hand it over." Once again, this girl had spoken so calmly that she sounded nearly robotic. She reached up to push a strand of her yellow hair behind her ear as she spoke. Even though she was clearly trying to be hostile, her voice was rather monotone. It matched the emotionless expression on her face perfectly well, though the fact that she hadn't yet blinked was starting to strike Bulma as disturbing. Almost as if she could read the Bluehead's mind, this blonde woman furrowed her eyebrows and continued to speak. "I've never bothered with warnings before, but I like your style, so I was feeling generous. Now, I will tell you one more time. Give. Me. Your jacket."

"You have some nerve!" Bulma spat, stepping to the side so she could bypass this rude civilian. "Can't you see my arms are full? Just so you know, my jacket is a custom made representation of my family's business! I'm not going to just give it to you!"

And, with that, Bulma stormed out the door.

The blonde woman calmly followed the Bluehead's trail, walking to one of the store's windows. She watched as Bulma set her groceries down on the sidewalk outside and threw something at them to make her items disappear. She watched as the Bluehead approached Vegeta, her mouth running as she obviously ranted to him about what had just occurred.

"Hey... He looks kind of familiar." She muttered, wrapping a strand of hair around her finger now.

She and her brother had arrived to this podunk little town just that morning. Seventeen had wanted to just blow it all away from the sky, not thinking it was worth the time of even landing. It had taken Eighteen nearly twenty minutes to convince him to hold off. She'd been wanting a new outfit for days, and if he blew up the city then he'd just destroy any good clothes that might be laying around. She didn't want to ruin any potential finds before she had a chance to even look...

… This town's clothing stores were disgusting, and Eighteen hadn't found a single thing that caught her eye. She had wandered into the grocery store as one last effort of finding something decent before just giving up and going ahead with the rampage. It had been disappointing to see that the store only carried food - something that was absolutely useless to her. She was about to take her frustrations out on the store-owner, but that was when she saw the Bluehead walk in.

It would have been easy enough to just kill her and rip the jacket off Bulma's torso, but Eighteen restrained from doing such a thing. If she did that, then there was a chance the fabric would get scuffed. So instead she had decided to wait it out, to stalk her prey until the time was right.

Eighteen thought she had been reasonable with her. She'd let the woman finish her shopping. And she had asked for the jacket nicely instead of just punching her out, hadn't she? Surely that might have worked in getting her to safely hand it over without ruining the material, but that Bluehead had just been too stubborn.

Eighteen stepped back from the window and rolled her eyes, turning for the door. She'd given peaceful negotiations a chance, but that hadn't worked at all. Now she'd just have to do things her way, and her precious new jacket was going to likely get stained in the process.

"That does it..." She muttered, putting her hand against the door. "…I warned her."

AN: I've been trying to get back into the swing of updating this story on a regular basis, so I hope you enjoyed these last three chapters. The next one shouldn't take too long (I don't plan on going on another month long hiatus again) but it might take a week or two. I still have a few things to figure out about how I want some of the scenes to play out. Thanks for reading and letting me know what you think! It motivates me to keep going!