A/N: Hey, hi! welcome to something a little more lighthearted and sillier than what I usually do! I think that I should be allowed to write something silly from time to time, so here it is. (and contains the only direct references to the Slitheen experiencing the side-effects of their gas exchange that I will ever do) If you have any reviews, please feel free to leave them because I read all of them :)

It was a bright, warm Saturday morning, the perfect time for couples to take themselves on a day out, and for hopeful singles to meet the person of their dreams. One such hopeful was a young woman in her early twenties named Emily, who had been preparing and reapplying her makeup and perfume in the bathroom of the shopping centre that she and her date were meeting in. They had only spoken through a mobile dating app, but had gotten along so well that logically, this was the next step. Dreamily, she closed her eyes and thought of how nice he had been to her, how funny he was, just how quickly they had gotten to know each other. He was the perfect match.

And he was the perfect fit for her kin.

'Sorry, darling.' An apologetic voice spoke out of Emily's mouth to her reflection as she applied another coat of lipstick, tapping her lips together to cover them both, 'But, you were just the right size.' She twirled a long strand of brunette hair around her finger, playfully admiring herself. The woman standing before the mirror wasn't human, not anymore. She was a creature wearing the skin of one; a member of the Slitheen family, who was here on business of her own. Her true name was Azara, one of the family's scouts; someone to send down to gather information on potential targets, and, as was her current task, to find humans who were a suitable enough fit for a fellow Slitheen to take their place.

Azara stood at the mirror, regarding her new human form: an overweight young woman, full-figured, some might say, with a round, peach-hued face that was partially covered by a cascade of light brown hair that matched the colour of her eyes. Carefully, she placed a pair of black-rimmed glasses back onto her ears after the finishing touches of eyeliner. The lenses didn't do anything, but they helped to give her a look of innocence and bookishness that made her more endearing. Alongside it, she had decided to wear a simple pink dress that went down to her knees, light blue denim jeans, and a short white scarf around her neck. One that was purely for decoration considering the weather. While Azara straightened out her outfit, pulling at the hem of her dress, a quiet growl came from her stomach. The disguised Slitheen paid no attention to it, a common side-effect of the compression technology that she was very familiar with, as was she with the more notable one that all of the humans hated because it so heavily resembled their own flatulence, which they didn't like. Azara did not care how they felt, and would do whatever she pleased, whenever she pleased, thank you very much. She had no doubt that it would be keeping her on her toes for the rest of the day while she finished with her preparations.

Walking out of the room with a mobile phone in her hand, which she had been using to find and contact suitable candidates to turn into skin suits, she scrolled back through a week of text messages to a human she had made contact with. Instead of the old ways of tracking an individual down in person, in this age of modern human technology, she had turned to the wide selection of dating applications that were available instead. Quickly finding that they just gave herprey on a silver platter —as long as they matched her simple criteria of being physically large enough for one of her relatives to squeeze themselves inside. All she had to do was say what they wanted to hear, and they were in the palm of her hand. For example, her charming date for today had jumped at the chance to see her at a quaint little café in a corner of the building, out of the way enough that nobody would interrupt them.

Forced to push through swathes of unimportant people, she eventually got through to the café, in its own peaceful, coffee-scented atmosphere. Its large glass window displayed that it was already busy inside this early in the day, various sounds of chatter and laughter filled the air from every table, and she could be forgiven for not being able to find one. However, as her luck had it, a single table had been set aside for her as a favour from the manager that she had paid handsomely for. A business expense that she could recoup later, she assured herself. While she was waiting, she walked past the small queue in line for their drinks, and addressed one of the baristas directly, preferring not to spend any of her time standing in one with a bunch of humans that would only irritate her.

'Hi.' Azara began, dragging the last syllable for a few seconds, putting on a friendly face before giving the overworked staff member her order, whether the woman wanted to serve her or not, 'Can I get a large mocha with as much cream and chocolate as you're allowed to put in? Oh, and if you have them, can I have one of those little biscuits as well?'

'This isn't a bar; you'll have to wait like everybody else.' The exasperated employee gestured to the line, to which Azara's smile dropped to a poisonous look.

'Sweetheart, if I wanted to wait in line, I would.' She leaned on the counter, getting into the other woman's space, tapping her sharp, rose-painted nails on its polished surface, 'I wasn't asking you a question. I was telling you. Make me my coffee.'

'Listen, I can't do that. I can get my manager, and you can talk to him about making your drink if you want.' the barista explained, losing her patience. Azara was more than willing to argue with both of them but thought better of making a show of herself in public when she didn't need to.

'Fine.' she spat, taking herself to the back of the queue as demanded, which had lengthened in the time it had taken her to speak to the person at the counter. While forced to wait around, her stomach growled again, for the first time since the beginning of the day. Being surrounded by the scent of so many humans was making her feel hungry, more than she was now. At least the drink would tide her over until she dug her claws into something more substantial. Eventually, she sat herself back down at the reserved table with a large disposable cup of what was essentially cream-topped hot chocolate with a hint of coffee, which she began to drink with an unladylike speed, although being "ladylike" wasn't high up on her list of priorities to begin with.

In the middle of draining her cup dry, a timid-sounding voice caught her attention as a stranger's hand tapped her on the shoulder:

'You're Emily, right?'

Azara turned her head to see the man she had been waiting for, whose name escaped her. He had a large figure, in all the places that mattered for a Slitheen, with smart clothes that were pinching around his midsection. Azara could tell by his scent that he was feeling nervous and overwhelmed by their meeting, even beginning to perspire as he encountered her for the first time. He'd even come carrying a small, heart-shaped box of chocolates for her as a gift. Accepting the delicious present, that she honestly cared more about than him, she smiled sweetly, looking up at him from under her glasses, brushing back hair that had fallen over the side of her face.

'I am!' she replied, standing up to greet him properly, a head shorter in height than he was, 'It's so nice to finally meet you!' she exclaimed, putting on an act of being excited in front of every other human in the cafe, when she would rather cut straight to the part where she tore out his insides; looking him up and down, sizing him up for slaughter. Forced to suppress a tingling sensation of bloodlust, Azara gently took the chocolate box from him, letting him sit down across from her with it pushed to the side. What followed was meaningless small talk that did nothing except from making Azara wish she could break his neck then and there, seconds from reaching across and throttling him with her bare hands while he went on about the weather and his hobbies, and other facts that she couldn't be bothered to remember. There was no point, if he was going to die in the immediate future.

'This is all very interesting, really, but do you mind if we go for a walk? I need to stretch my legs a little bit.' Azara asked nicely, 'Not too far, just out there for a bit.' she gestured to the empty hallway outside, a quiet place for her to finish him off.

'Yeah, if you want.' the man replied, unsure of why she would want to go out in the middle of their date. Nevertheless, he followed her out, awkwardly wanting to ask more, but never getting his words out. Azara appreciated his compliance, leading him further down the corridor, out of sight of the café's large window and witnesses before revealing her full, monstrous form in all its splendour to him within the pooling shadows at the end of the hall. Emerald green skin glistening, she stepped from the human skin that lay under her feet. A crumpled visage of a human life that had been cruelly taken away.

'Are you surprised?' she growled menacingly, gesturing her claws at him. Too stunned to speak, the man stepped back, swallowing down a dry throat at the creature in front of him, who laughed in the face of his terror. Her vicious cackling echoing down the hall.

'Come now, there's no need to be so quiet.' she cooed, 'I like it when they scream.' An unnerving smile crossed Azara's face, and with each step she took closer to him, the man cowered more and more in fear; rooted to the spot under flickering white lights. Azara could practically taste the adrenaline that was rushing around his body, leering over him, caressing his cheek with her claws before savagely tearing his head into two.

Half an hour after they had met, Azara was sitting by herself again, her "date" nowhere to be seen, having been turned into a suit by her own hands. One of which was lazily plucking a chocolate from the box left for her while she absentmindedly stirred her cold cup of chocolate and cream with the other. Carelessly letting out a short burp that tainted the air around her with the stench of carrion and cocoa, she observed people come in and out of the café. Heaving a sigh of boredom, she was ready to give up for the day, when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that one of the humans was looking around, trying to spot the last empty space before it was taken. Azara made mental notes from her viewpoint, seeing if it would be worth her time to talk to him. Blue eyes, blond hair scraped back into the most pathetic spiked ponytail that she had ever seen, red-and-black tartan shirt. Nothing too extraordinary about him, a normal sized human, and while he wasn't thin by any means, having a visible paunch beneath his shirt, it would hardly be enough for any of her family members to be comfortable.

'Still…' Azara thought, practically staring at him, 'He is cute. Might be fun to hear him scream while I chase him through the woods.' she giggled to herself about the thought of being able to get out of her restrictive skin suit and chase after the human man she liked so much. Too distracted by her fantasies to notice that he had strolled up to her table until he opened his mouth to speak.

While Azara had been getting herself ready, on the other side of the building, a young man named Lucas pulled himself up from the floor of an identically mirrored bathroom, pushing himself up and off of the sink; greeting his reflection in the watermarked mirror with a sharp-toothed grin while he caught his breath. He had a wholly average build, with dark blond hair that he had pulled back into a short and spiky ponytail to attempt to make it more manageable, dark blue eyes lined with thin streaks of black, and warm white skin. Hanging out over black jeans, a red-and-black tartan patterned shirt clung to his torso, the flesh of his belly poking out from underneath.

Lucas was also in the centre to spend a day with a potential romantic partner: a woman named Rebecca that he had started speaking with over a month ago, exchanging texts and romantic gestures, and who had agreed to meet him here in person. Although his preparation wasn't going as well as he would have liked.

'That wasn't so hard now, was it?' he asked himself, mildly exhausted, rolling back his shoulders and twisting his neck while a loud, uncomfortable churning sound emanated from his gut. 'Why does it always have to be so tight?' he grumbled to himself, tugging at his shirt's collar, undoing the bottom button, trying to loosen its suffocating grip before a sudden expulsion of gas cut through the ambient silence, 'God, I needed that.' He said with a relieved groan, leaning up close to the mirror and running a hand through his hair, continuing to fuss with his outfit as if the outburst was normal, occasionally wiping away a bead or two of sweat that had formed on his forehead with the palm of his hand, catching the edge of the silver zip embedded in it, 'You might not have done much in life, but…' He took a deep breath and exhaled, 'You're serving me well in death, friend. I owe you one.'

He, like Azara, was a scout sent to Earth by the Slitheen family, now posing as a human after forcing himself into the skin of one. His real name was Eron, and his task was identical to hers: locate humans of an appropriate stature and hunt them down so that the family may have their hide. For his alleged date, and the foreseeable future, he had taken the form of an average but decently attractive man in the hopes that it would give him an easier time persuading the chosen woman of his dreams to open up to him even more than she had previously. Back when he was alive, Eron recalled, the human had no trouble bringing people back after a night out, to the chagrin of him and their fellow housemates who just wanted some peace and quiet. And it certainly wasn't because of his personality.

However, with average looks came an average-sized human body that the Slitheen had to wear, and Eron was struggling with how little room he had to work with, shifting on the spot to reach a semblance of comfort. The reason behind it was the compression device around his neck, only designed to fit him into the skins of overweight humans due to the height and bulk of his alien form, but for reasons not even he knew, he had only just managed to get himself into this one without it tearing to shreds the minute he pulled it up his monstrous frame. As a result, the gas exchange technology was being pushed to its limits, for better or for worse.

'I have to get myself something bigger.' he told himself, 'This thing is killing me already…' he continued pulling at it, trying to look presentable before he headed out to meet the woman lucky enough to have been chosen by him, hoping that the gas exchange wouldn't put her off before he had the chance to strike her down with his claws. If it did, then he would be back to square one again.

'Alright.' Eron took another deep breath in and out to focus himself, clearing his mind of distractions, 'Time to get to work.'

After making his way to the centre's food quarter, full of tables and vendors of all kinds, he leant back on a white painted pillar to get an overview of the place. Not much had changed since his last trek here; a couple of new places had opened up, replacing some old ones that he'd never been interested in but always wanted to try. Joyful sounds filled the cavernous space, adults talking, children laughing and screaming with happiness, music blasting through speakers high above in the ceiling, the same tunes he had heard playing on the radio a day before. An enjoyable atmosphere all round.

'It's almost time.' Eron said to himself, swiftly pulling a smartphone from his pocket and clicking its power button, checking its clock. One in the afternoon. She was cutting it close. Double checking he wasn't too early or late, or that Rebecca hadn't sent him any messages saying she had to cancel, he comprehensively went through every notification he'd had so far.

'Why isn't she here?' Eron flicked his head down the wide hallway that joined the food court to the rest of the building, watching, waiting for her to come down and say "Hello" to him. Reminding himself to be patient, he took in the aroma of sweet and savoury food that surrounded the area, although it was unavoidable with a sense of smell like his; welcoming spices of unhealthy, but always reliable fried food wafted past as if calling him closer, as did the sweeter sugared bread, fried too if the humans were in the mood for it. He certainly was, breaking away from the corridor to pick up a few pieces for himself whilst checking behind to ensure he hadn't missed her.

'Thanks. You can keep the change.' Eron waved off the vendor of fried bread, clutching a paper bag with a cinnamon-and-sugar encrusted pretzel in it, freshly made, tearing a fluffy piece of it off with his teeth. Crystals of sugar stuck to his lips and face, which he quickly brushed off in case the woman arrived, 'Mmm.' He voiced through a full mouth, holding a hand under his chin to catch any wayward crumbs, finding himself a short leather-covered stool to sit on in the meantime. One that faced the stream of people rushing around to get something to eat with not a sign of Rebecca to be seen.

'Hey, Rebecca.' He texted her, 'It's me, where are you? It's quarter past one.'

No reply came for at least ten minutes. By then, Eron had finished his pretzel and was cleaning the gritty leftovers from his hands when her reply came. A simple "Sorry" that was followed by nothing more. Any subsequent messages he sent were met with silence, but he waited for several minutes more with hopeful anticipation while watching people go by with their food and drink, sniffing the air out of curiosity. Nothing out of the ordinary could be sensed from any of them, other than heightened feelings of excitement. Mostly from all of the young children who were getting overwhelmed by all the stuff there was to see and buy.

'Good for them.' Eron said to himself, following the sight of one small child running into a shop only to be dragged back out by their parents, tears streaming down their face in frustration as they began a war cry; remembering that it was very close to how he used to be as a young hatchling. He wanted everything he could get his claws on, tugging at the hand of whichever grandparent that had taken him out to the Galactic Market that day because he saw something new. Always too expensive, but countless promises were made, and on the rare occasion fulfilled.

Taking another quick look around, there was still no sign of Rebecca being there, or any reply on his phone from her, solidifying his overall mission of "kill a human and take their skin" as a failure. Not the first on his record, and not the last.

'Seriously…?' Eron rolled his eyes, 'The nerve of these people.' he grumbled, unsatisfied with his day. To make himself feel better, he bought another, much larger bag, this time of breaded and fried meat that covered his hand in grease while he tore into the tender, cooked flesh like the beast he pretended not to be with its juices running down his hand and wrist; licking it off in a manner that turned people's heads. Cleaning each finger with the same meticulousness as he would the bones of a human corpse as the sound of their chatter filtered out of his head while he dreamed of that rare delicacy he was missing out on. Although if it came to it, he theorised that he could devour the human housemates he involuntarily lived with once he had fattened them up enough to be useful. Imagining what it would be like to cook their marbled meat, to hear it simmer in an oiled pan alongside freshly picked vegetables. And the smell, he thought, would be just heavenly. His parents called him a glutton for it, a word that he resented because it implied that he had no self-restraint. Hypocrites, he named them in return, happy enough to gorge themselves on raw meat and blood but shunned him when he wanted to add some variety to their carnivorous diet.

While he fantasised about his future meal, mouth beginning to water at the idea of cooking the rarest cuts he could get his claws on, a deep feeling like hunger shot through him. While his appetite had been satiated, his thirst had not yet been quenched. He could pick something up from another shop nearby, but his preferred drink of choice couldn't be found in the food hall, not the way he liked it. Instead, half an hour later, he grasped a medium-sized cardboard cup in his hands that was full of vanilla syrup-infused coffee while standing in the middle of his usual, tucked-away-in-the-corner café hideaway for when work was over and done with. Or in this case, when work had been unsuccessful. Due to the unforeseen circumstances of the woman he had intended to meet changing her mind at the last second, and refusing to reply to any of his messages asking if they could possibly rearrange it, he had to find someone else. Which was a difficult task in itself. On a first survey, all the humans in the cafe were either too slim, or they had peers around them that would tell him to leave their friends and colleagues alone if he started pestering them. Irritating roadblocks to his overall plan.

'I wish you would make this easier for me,' Eron said spitefully under his breath, 'How is it so hard to find people that look like that?' Frowning at his fruitless search, he took another quick look, darting his eyes around, pretending that he was trying to find a place to sit down to make sure he hadn't missed anyone. Anyone, for instance, like the woman in the corner booth that was looking in his general direction. He watched her meet his gaze and sharply turn her head away to pretend she hadn't been focused on him, but he had already noticed her peeking.

Managing to catch enough of a glimpse of her, the woman was beautiful, for a human, and fit his requirements perfectly. She was a plump sort, her long, light brown hair blocked him from seeing her face properly, only able to discern its rounded shape, noticing the reflection of the café lights from her charcoal black glasses that sat underneath it.

'Well, she is rather…' he commented to himself, too busy turning the gears in his head about how he was going to approach her to finish his train of thought. Even if he did, it wasn't worth anything if he couldn't convince her to spend time alone with him.

Him.

A complete stranger.

There was nothing to do but try.

'Sorry to bother you,' the tartan-shirted man said to Azara, as she looked up from an empty box of chocolates, 'But do you mind if I sit here? There's not that many—'

'Sure.' Azara cut him off, shifting her attention to him as he sat down across from her with an awkward look on his face that suggested he wanted to apologise to her several times over for just existing. A waft of his perfume caught her nose, a strong smell of cedar wood and spices. Not enough to overwhelm her senses, but definitely distinct enough to cover whatever his natural scent was.

'Been in a meeting with someone or…?' he enquired about two cups still on the table, one half-empty. Attempting to start a conversation with her. She could sense that he was as out of his depth as the last guy, maybe even more, considering that this meeting wasn't intended to happen at all.

'On a date, as it happens.' she explained, 'He had to leave early though.' Azara shrugged, taking another, more measured sip of her drink, 'It's just me, now.'

'I was supposed to, but she didn't come.' the man sighed, 'And now,' He picked his phone up from the table, in demonstration, 'She isn't talking to me. We've been speaking for a month, and she just won't pick up, or reply, or anything.'

Azara almost felt sorry for him, she knew how disappointing it was when they had to cancel on you at the last minute, and it was always the good ones too, the ones that you needed the most. 'Maybe it's a good thing that she didn't show up.' she told him, softly.

'Why's that?' he laughed at her, surprised.

'Because then, you wouldn't have met me, would you?'

'Why? Are you someone special?'

'I might be.' Azara said to him, deciding that she would give him the honour of her time, 'I'm Emily.'

'Lucas.'

Giving the woman his human alias, Eron was surprised at how quickly she had gotten friendly with him. With everyone else, it had taken two days at least to get to this point and he couldn't help but feel excited about it. Fiddling nervously with his empty cup, he tried to learn more about her so that whoever was to take her place could emulate her better. He could smell the scent of floral perfume around her, roses and jasmine, easier on his nose than some of the other people he had met. Within the cloud of perfume and coffee around him, he could also sense an acrid tang of flesh and human meat hanging in the air that mingled with it, almost undetectable, except to him. One that he recalled belonging to dead creatures. Paying it no mind in the moment, worried that bringing it up might insult her, he attempted to get more information.

'So, what do you do for work?' he asked. Starting with a simple, inoffensive question that people were more than happy to share their answer to.

'Oh, just…a family business, you know?' Emily replied, 'We do a few different things, here and there.'

'What a coincidence, so do I!' Eron told her, technically not lying, 'What's it like?'

'I'm always busy. Somehow, they keep finding things for me to do and I just wish that I could have a little more time to myself. I can't escape it when I get home because I work with them!'

'Same.' Eron chuckled, feeling a bit of solidarity with her plight, especially when you were as close as he was with his own, 'Mine aren't that supportive of my hobbies either. They think it's a waste of time.' He said, continuing to listen intently as Emily continued to talk about the little issues she was having: being overwhelmed by duties, not having enough personal space, general grievances. Their conversation managed to stretch well over an hour before either of them realised it.

'...I know that the business is important, but I just wish that I could just find someone to spend time with because I don't want to be on my own forever.' Emily went on, quite heartfelt considering they had only just met, 'Sorry!' she apologised, 'I didn't mean to go on so much. I guess it's just something about you. You're just easy to talk to, I guess.' she glanced down at her tall, empty cup, 'You don't mind if I just go and get another drink, do you?'

'No, no. By all means.' Eron waved his hand, watching her get up from her seat and walk over to the counter, where the barista appeared to glare at her before supplying her, grudgingly, with a second large cup. He was both surprised and impressed that she was getting another one, considering how much those held, making a mental note of her preference for whoever needed her skin; further surprised by what he overheard her order.

Azara returned moments later with her fresh drink, which she had been closely watching to make sure that the wretch at the counter hadn't done something with her drink, like spitting in it. She dropped back down into her seat with a loud fart that caused half of the cafe's patrons to turn their heads and shoot her looks of varying degrees of disgust, with an exceptionally irritated one from the barista that she had designated as an annoyance, who was fully prepared to kick Azara out at the next possible disturbance. Azara, on the other hand, was curious enough to do it again just to see what would happen; coincidentallyrepositioning herself on the seat while letting out another that was distinctly more audible than the last. Despite making it abundantly clear that they disapproved of her behaviour, none of the café guests or staff approached the table to force her to leave. They had, however, continued their comments that were quite insulting to hear. Which was most likely the point.

'So, you're all cowards then.' She whispered under her breath at the fact, disappointed that they were all talk and no action. Curiously, however, Lucas didn't say anything about it even though he was the closest to it, which threw her slightly. He was human, therefore he should have said or done something in response, but...nothing. No reaction whatsoever aside from looking up from his phone to register that she had come back. While she thought about it, beginning her second drink, Azara noticed that his aura of wood and spice was starting to fade; something else rising to the surface. A different scent. His own, buried underneath that had a note of something oddly familiar about it. An important enough aspect that he'd tried his hardest to cover up. She wore perfume because it was what humans expected of her, but that floral bouquet was barely a drop compared to how much he'd layered on.

'That's strange.' she mused, covertly sniffing the air. Made clearer as the woody perfume began to dissipate was a scent that she knew well, one that made her feel more at ease, somehow coming from this man that she had only known for an hour. The unmistakable odour of calcium decay.

'What is?' Lucas enquired, suddenly having acquired another drink that looked suspiciously like hers, but they had actually given him a biscuit this time, unlike when she had requested it. Which she assumed was on purpose because the barista was smirking at her from the counter. Before Lucas had a chance to react, Azara snatched the tiny, caramelised biscuit from his side of the table, taking a bite while she came to her conclusion.

'Hey! Get your own!' he complained, trying his new drink.

'I know you're not human.' Azara said, casually telling him a piece of information that should have been taken far more seriously by herself, 'You can drop the act now, sweetheart.'

'What do you mean?' Lucas, or as Azara now presumed, "Lucas" questioned, with the look of a deer caught in headlights, 'Wait, is the perfume gone—?' he asked, reaching down for a bag that he had shoved under the table, hitting the back of his head on it when he brought himself back up.

'Ow, fuck.' he hissed to himself, not quiet enough that Azara couldn't hear him, rubbing the back of his head while internally shouting at himself for doing so.

'So he's cute and he's an idiot!' Azara laughed at him, to which a faint smile appeared on his face, 'What's your name? Your real one, I mean. Since I've figured you out.'

'I'm not cute—' he spluttered, trying not to blush at the sudden compliment, a rare thing to happen to him on a good day, never mind an abysmal one, 'I'm Eron Fen Fey Sharlaveer-Slam Slitheen. And you are?'

'Azara Fel Fotch Passameer-Day Slitheen.' She replied, with a distinct lack of self-importance. Eron's eyes lit up in recognition of her clan's name.

'You! You're—!' Eron exclaimed with excitement, with Azara immediately signalling him to be quiet before he told everyone in the room, 'You're famous!' he lowered his voice, starstruck, 'Well, your branch of the family is. I don't really know what to say.' He added, getting flustered about it.

'First of all, calm down.' Azara reached across the table to place a concerned hand over his own, 'They might be famous but I'm not.' she said, giving him a curt smile while he composed himself. She had to admit that he looked adorable getting ruffled like that but kept it to herself for the time being.

'What made you realise that I wasn't human?' Eron enquired for his own benefit once he had worked himself down, tapping the side of his empty cup, his face tinted a light red.

'Well, you didn't say anything about me just farting in front of you like it was normal!' Azara immediately responded with an incredulous laugh.

'I thought it wasa normal human thing!' Eron told her, seriously, 'Nobody says anything to me about "being rude" or whatever they shout at you for.' He took a moment to place a hand on his suddenly growling stomach in an attempt to soothe its incessant noises that had only gotten worse throughout the day. He'd never thought that willing the technology not to work would have consequences, but here they were.

'You're a man. They expect you to be like that.' Azara explained with a bitterness to her voice, 'I, on the other hand, get nothing but grief and for what?' she loudly complained, huffing at the standards humanity held her to.

'But you do it anyway, so it doesn't matter.' Eron said with a cocky tone, before groaning in discomfort and abruptly belching over the voices around them, thumping his chest with his fist when it was over. As he gave a contented sigh, sinking back into his seat, it hadn't escaped him that the other half of the café's patrons were now shooting him glares of discontent too. The barista that had earned Azara's ire shouted over to them, leaning across the rounded corner of the counter as if she'd wanted to do it all day.

'Would the two of you leave? You're bothering our other customers.' she yelled at the pair, 'Get out.'

'We should probably get going, I don't want to cause any more problems.' Eron consciously picked his bag up from the floor and slung it over his shoulder, while Azara took more of a nudge before she was convinced to leave.

'No.' She said, firmly staying where she was, 'If you want me to leave, you'll have to try harder than that.'

'If you do not leave in the next five minutes, I'm calling security to drag you out of here, and I will personally ban both of you from coming in here again.' The barista threatened, a condition that Eron's eyes pleaded not to happen. The sight of which softened Azara's stance, melting away at her. She was willing to stand her ground, but he just looked so pitiable.

'Fine then.' Azara conceded against her better judgement, standing up with Eron, making a point of neatening her dress in the slowest way possible while directing one last dagger-filled glare at the person that refused to make her drink.

Joining back with the streams of people outside was like stepping into an entirely different world, one that was bustling and filled with the sound of a hundred different conversations happening at once, and now that she was in pleasantcompany, Azara had more of a spring in her step. Keeping closely to Eron's side, she bounced along beside him, her hair and dress moving with her while they navigated around the human beings in their way, both releasing the odd stray fart while they walked, since the crowd was less likely to complain.

'Sorry about almost getting us kicked out.' Eron apologised to Azara, keeping his head down, 'It's just, this is very tight on me, and it does whatever it wants.' he gestured at his human form.

'It's fine! Happens to me all the time. I was going to ask about that, though. How did you manage to get yourself in there?' Azara gestured to his human self, 'I could never, he's so small.'

'I'm just very dedicated, that's all.' Eron admitted, 'But between you and me, if I take this off, it will not go back on.' He laughed nervously, 'It was the best I could do at short notice.'

'Oh? Why's that? Couldn't find anyone else before today?' Azara purred, 'Or did you just forget?'

'A bit of both. He was there when I needed him, so…' Eron drew his thumb across his throat, 'Luckily, I have a few humans to hand, if the need arises. They're still a bit too small right now which is why this happened, but I'm working on it.' Eron smiled at her with pride, allowing her to guess what he was up to, rather than say anything more.

'That's cruel!' Azara exclaimed after several seconds of connecting dots, 'I love you for it though.' She grasped his hand, intertwining their fingers together, swinging her arm while they pressed on to nowhere in particular except for the labyrinth of tiled hallways that made up the centre.

'You know,' Azara started, 'I've thought about it, I really have, and I want to kill that pissy little barista. I have plenty of sisters who could replace her. And the rest of them, the ones that didn't appreciate us being there.' She quickly turned to Eron with inspiration firing through her mind, 'Actually we should do that, then they won't stare at us, and we can have our drinks in peace.'

'Well, I'm sure that can be arranged. At some point.' Eron chuckled at her, admiring the immediate jump to violence, secretly looking forward to seeing her in action, 'But could we maybe do it in a bit because I've not had that much to eat today, and it would be nice.'

'If we kill her, you can eat her corpse.' Azara replied in a sing-song voice.

'Or, we get something now, and then eat her corpse after.'

'I'd rather just kill her now. Then I don't have to see her face the next time we go in.'

Eron gave a defeated sigh, 'Fair enough. But…' he looked around at the large number of people still around, 'How are you gonna do that while all these witnesses are here?' he gave a wide-armed gesture towards the people passing them by, before folding his arms when he realised that those same people were staring at him like he was mad. Azara looked up at him for a moment, before reaching a conclusion that disappointed her.

'...At night, when they're gone.' She frowned, throwing her head up with over-the-top exasperation, 'I hate you so much, you adorable man.'

Eron simply grinned at her, being proven right, 'You'll get to enact whatever revenge you have planned later, but right now, we have some time to kill instead.'