Oh God, You Again

[Stella Morozova]

The Lumen City Expo began!

Those dwelling in Estate District had a chance to feast their eyes on the latest revelations in the field of art, admiring unique holographic films, the newest photographic technology, or motion-controlled music programs. There was a lot to check out around the district, stands big and small, but the heart of this exhibition was undoubtedly set in the local museum. The big, old-fashioned building was bursting with life and colors, open for everyone and embellished just for that occasion. Inside the La Galleria various stalls welcomed and invited viewers, displaying their marvels and praising their technology. And there was a location in one of the wings dedicated solely to the art of fashion. A neat space with a short catwalk and scene, followed by a backstage separated by holographic curtains. Inside the isolated area was a busy scene - designers in pair with programmers were doing the last adjustments to their most recent fashion projects. That was, hangers full of the newest color-, shape-, style-changing outfits that were all the rage lately. Each model had at least two costumes that needed to be checked for their anodically coloring electrochromes, the diodes emitting hard light, microwires, and AI programming that was managing all that. The group started preparing long before crowds of people flooded the museum, making sure that everything was spotless, clothes were in perfect conditions and models were looking their best.

Stella was one of those models, dragged in early by the call from work. The task was easy, walk, pose, look good. Nothing she hasn't done before. Although there were better ideas and ways to utilize her free time, working on the Expo paid well... And Rosina was all too eager to drive her to La Galleria. Now, grandmother was having a tour around the museum with Pafumon, and Stella was stuck there, patiently waiting for her turn for characterization. Because of the small space models were switching between putting on makeup and costumes, and finally, it was time for miss Morozova.

She sat in front of the mirror, glancing to the side at the make-up artist who was displaying his work tools on a portable table. Pierre was a middle-aged man with a goatee, pastel flannel shirt, and flamboyance burning brighter than the newest hard light holographic disco ball. He loved his work and had great sympathy for Stella ever since she poured hot coffee over the crotch of a guy who tried to harass him at work. Also, they had a deal. For camouflaging her bruises and cuts she allowed him to use any kind of cosmetics he wanted on her face. That was a big sacrifice on her part... She did not like makeup for many reasons, but Pierre deeply grieved her firmly refusing to do his magic before the shoots. They had a middle ground now, so humming leisurely he started to apply eyeliner and mascara, while Stella sat still like a statue. She didn't like it, but she had to respect the deal.

"Voilà. Mmm... Head to the right, up. Perfect~!" Pierre purred with content and smiled, finishing the gentle line that was framing her eyes. Stella blinked slowly, watching in the mirror the dark blue streaks above her eyelashes. Part of her hair was already brushed to the side and styled, with two metallic pins covered with led light intelligent wires stuck behind her left ear.

"I don't need makeup," she murmured silently, tapping her watch. The holographic screen of the device showed nothing among the suspicious activity. Today might just be peaceful enough.

"I know~" the man giggled, reaching for the reactive eyeshadow that was meant to change its hue along with her outfit on the stage. "But I also know that from the ground people won't see details of your face, so I need to emphasize what's here. To make sure the cleaning service will have to swipe all those dropped jaws after closing." When Stella didn't answer, he took a step back and stroked his facial hair. "You seem to be in the bad mood." Pierre nodded to himself, getting back to applying vivid blue color on her eyelid.

"You're imagining things." Stella replied tepidly, barely moving her mouth. She knew better than to interrupt an artist during his work... But the man feeling gaze on them glanced to the side and saw a dark-haired figure staring. He whistled softly and lowered his head to sneer.

"Ohh, I know, is it because of the perfume advertisement? Someone's bitter about it~?" He whispered, discreetly looking to the side again, where other models were already putting on their first outfits. Monique, the boss's favorite model was adjusting a white skirt on her green skintight suit. "They'll get over it. This industry isn't for those who sulk like that." Pierre added with conviction and Stella only closed her eyes. He worked as a makeup artist longer than she was alive, how could she disagree? The soft brush stroked her cheeks.

"I don't care." she clicked her tongue with annoyance, but the man only giggled. They could stare, gossip or try to be petty however they liked it, she was above all that. The thought that wasn't leaving her mind was connected to the Pafumon and the number of Digimon around - and the danger that this implied. Hopefully, nothing would happen today... But just in case Stella brought the right equipment with her.

In the next five minutes, Pierre added lipstick, fixed her hair, and with a welcoming gesture pointed towards the hangers with prepared outfits. The list on the screen right next to the catwalk displayed the order of the models on both sides - for workers and visitors of the museum. They will start the show shortly... She could hear the host talking through the speakers, inviting people to the performance. Stella's outfit was grey and blue in the first stage. She put high-heels on, buttoning the grey wrinkled shirt. The dark blue, well-fitted trouser suit had a jacket with a short swallowtail and rims covered with short hair-thin wires and led lightings. One of the workers walked to her, making sure that everything was in place, and turned the program controlling the clothes on. In instant, the navy blue hue of the suit shimmered. The diodes and wires gleamed around the ends of the sleeves, on the tail of the jacket, and near the collar - they lit up with soft pale blue light, creating holographic flowers that mimicked real ones sewn to the fabric. Even the pins in her hair were now covered in blossoms, petals moving with her every gesture. Technology, right?

"Line up," a voice called... And just like, the show started. The first model marched on the catwalk, greeted with applause and enthusiasm. Glancing at the list Stella noticed that she was third to leave backstage. A worker was standing with a digital tablet, giving the models signals, while the host was talking about their collection of clothes. Typical. Boring. The girl in the red dress before her left. Stella sighed under her breath, preparing for her turn. Head high, back straight, shoulders together. Confident steps, like she's the only one in the world who could pull off that outfit. Just like Maxim taught her. Once given a sign she walked out through the holographic curtains, greeted with the sight of a crowd, photographers, and curious visitors of the Expo. Step by step she strolled through the catwalk, gracefully, with unforced elegance. She was raised for that after all... At the end of the stage, Stella stopped. That was the moment to pose, show off the clothes, and listen to the host talking. Outfit can't be more eye-catching than the model, and model cannot take attention away from outfit, that was the golden rule.

People were staring, cameras flashed, but she was professionally unreactive to everything around. When Stella circled the catwalk, instead of getting backstage, she turned around as they were instructed and repeated her path. At the peak of the stage, she stopped again... The dark blue color of her suit paled suddenly and turned into a snow-white fabric. The clothes themselves changed, programming under the command of the designers opened the automatic stitches, giving once well-fitted outfit slits and flowing, open sleeves and legs. The swallowtail end of her jacket unfolded the hidden material, extending below her knees. Eyeshadow on Stella's face followed the metamorphosis turning into a vivid green hue, while the holographic flowers disappeared. Instead, there was a verdant mist, smoke-like image tied to her clothes and hair and following her every move. There was a sound of awe and a round of applause.

And that's how the next two hours of Stella's time passed.

Maria Carver
Isaac Sunderland

[Isaac Sunderland]

This wasn't exactly how Isaac had planned on spending his weekend. The Estate District was always a little too posh for Isaac's tastes, and even with the most stylish clothes he could get his hands on Isaac felt downright underdressed. Even with the liberal amounts of free samples being thrown around, half the price tags on the items and services here were staggering. Even aesthetically, the Galleria was so bright that it left Isaac's eyes squinting for mercy-.

"Figure it out yet?"

"Not a clue."

-And, most confusingly, there was a strange, greyscale kid's toy sitting in the pocket of Isaac's hand. El had found the thing while trying to pack up for the expo, and immediately went to Isaac so the two could try and figure out what it's deal was. "You know, you're the one that can barely keep your eyes off the internet," Isaac pointed out, giving the device another once-over. Grey rubber grip. Off-white coloration. A bunch of buttons that didn't do anything. It seemed oddly familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Shouldn't you be the expert here? Or are you finally turning in your gamer card?"

El huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of their face in the process. "Well, yeah, I know I'm the tech-head between us," they said. "But it seems really old, you know? So I figured it'd be more up your alley." Direct hit! And yet, despite such a solid taunt, the angelic smile never left El's face. Isaac turned away, grumbling. He had clearly taught them too well. "Besides, I know you've got more time to look. Since you don't really care about art galleries or high fashion or- a model!"

El was right. Isaac didn't really care about most of that stuff. However, Isaac did care about El, and that meant he knew That Tone. Whenever El's voice trailed off like that out of nowhere, it was time for another one of their famous disappearing acts. And despite their bad leg, they could move surprisingly quickly and quietly. If Isaac didn't act soon, El would've-

Promptly vanished into the crowd. God damnit.

Isaac sighed, pulling his arms close to him. Forearms braced forward, shoulders squeezed inwards, elbows pointed out ever so slightly. It was the optimal squeezing-through-the-crowd shape, with just enough bite to it that if someone tried to shove him around they'd be in prime elbowing position. Would he even have to worry about that around here? People seemed a little too posh in the Estate District to be directly aggressive like that. Usually they were passive aggressive instead, and passive aggressiveness couldn't really be solved by throwing precautionary elbows. Oh, forget it! He didn't have time to brainstorm about this. El could've been swept halfway across the expo by now! In as nonaggressive of a fashion as possible, Isaac began worming his way through the crowd, practically contorting his body to avoid bumping into any convention-goers. " "Scuse me!" "Pardon!" "Coming through- shit, sorry." "On your left!"

At times he rocked up onto his tiptoes, part to try and track the trail El was blazing and part to see what they were so mesmerized by. So, what, it was some model? Sure seemed like a model to Isaac. Cute. Okay, really attractive, actually. But that was, like, their job, you know? And it's not like she was someone worth going out of his way to get up close and personal with. Surely El could've just stepped aside and watched from afar, instead of diving into the world's poshest mosh pit.

Oh well. Els were gonna El. And even as someone whose thoughts on fashion started at "is it comfy" and stopped at "does it look good to me," Isaac had to admit the whole outfit changing thing was pretty cool. Certainly meant the model was on stage for longer than usual, giving them time to soak up the applause. It was a shame all they could really do was stand there. All the eyes in the room were on them, and yet they didn't even get a word in edgewise. Oh well. The model (Fella Marshmallows? Isaac really couldn't make out the name over all of the clapping) would be gone as soon as she arrived, at least until her position in the rotation came back up. It was like watching the luggage cycle around at an airport conveyer belt, except you cared more about the aesthetics than the fact that half of your bags had gotten lost on the connecting flight to Toronto and now you were stranded in another country without any underwear.

Maybe Isaac should pay more attention to the crowd he was worming through than the inner machinations of the enigma known as his mind. At this rate, he was sure to bump into someone.

Maria Carver

[Maria Carver]

The Lumen City Expo sprawled across the whole city, from the main stage on Metro Street to the various tech demos around the city to the high-tech fairground at Port Starboard... Heck, even Goldenview and Neoscape were having their own events. But of course, for someone as posh and high-class as Maria, there was only one obvious choice: La Galleria, where art and technology were meeting in various exquisite ways. What better way to show her impeccable taste than by surrounding herself with art and culture?

... It was too bad she was there alone. Her mother was busy working with some other company that Maria hadn't bothered to remember the name of, and her classmates had decided their time was better spent gallivanting around the more "exciting" parts of the Expo. Well, whatever. She didn't need them—if they wanted to waste their time with such uncouth activities, that wasn't her problem.

Head held higher than necessary, Maria marched through the crowds to the various exhibits that had been opened to the public. She pondered the holographically restored art, nodding when she was done as if she had come to some sort of conclusion on it. She oohed and ahhed with the other guests at the detailed holographic models of natural phenomena. She even gave the Wonderwand a whirl. She was no artist, but she was more than satisfied with putting her elegant signature in the air to leave her mark, even if only temporarily.

Except that "temporarily" ended up being even shorter than she thought. As if an invisible hand had swiped over it, her signature turned into a mid-air smudge. Maria's eyebrows raised in both shock and indignation, but before she could open her mouth to protest, the tech was already apologizing profusely.

"That—That isn't supposed to happen, miss," the tech said, scrambling to take the Wonderwand from Maria's grasp and check it over. "It must be a glitch. I'll have it looked at right away!" And then she hurried off, leaving a still-confused Maria in her wake. Maria frowned. Her own technology had been acting strange lately, but to have someone else's technology glitch out when she was using it? Someone had to have been playing a prank. But she wouldn't let that bother her tonight. Tonight, she was going to focus on art.

(Though she could have sworn she heard high-pitched cackling in the distance...)

Aside from that little snafu, it was all enriching, she supposed. That was what art was supposed to be, right? Enriching? It wasn't always the most exciting thing, sure, but that's not what it was supposed to be. And yet... Maria couldn't help but sigh to herself. A brief image of her with her classmates at the fairgrounds flashed through her mind, but she shooed it away just as soon as it appeared. No, she refused to be jealous of her classmates. They were wasting their time with such frivolity, after all. Instead of enriching themselves like Maria was, they were busy playing rigged carnival games and riding hologram- and VR-enhanced rides... probably laughing together, too...

Ugh. Would it have killed at least one of her classmates to come with her?

Fortunately, Maria's thoughts were broken by a voice over the speakers announcing the start of La Galleria's fashion show. Ah, perfect! Maria could see the latest in programmable styles before any of her classmates! She followed the flow of the crowd toward the catwalk, where spotlights danced as they waited for their stars to emerge. Elevated viewing areas and the camera drones that buzzed about, projecting their footage onto the screens mounted on the walls, meant that anyone could watch the show without having to be front and center. Which was good because, as much as she hated thinking about it, Maria was short, and having to fight through this crowd or, worse, jump up and down just to see the models would have been humiliating.

She joined the crowd in applauding and snapping pics with her phone as the models made their way onto the stage, showing off their hologram-enhanced outfits. Then the third model came out, and Maria's eyes widened as her name was announced: Stella Morozova. She immediately recognized her as an upperclassman at her school, and why wouldn't she? Stella was something of a celebrity among Maria's classmates as an older teen model with a frosty air of mystery around her. Maria's attention was quickly focused entirely on Stella, and her mind raced as she tried to think of a plan. If she could get close to Stella, it would open up so many doors for her! She imagined making friends with the model, becoming more popular at school because of it, gaining access to all kinds of high-profile connections...

And then that beautiful dream was shattered by the force of someone bumping into her. Startled, she let out an "oof" and stumbled, only barely managing to catch herself before she ran into someone else and created a human domino effect. She spun around toward the offending party. "Excuse me? Must you really—?"

Her angrily polite words abruptly stopped when she realized just who she was looking at: a slender boy who was even shorter than her with a babyface and close-cropped blond hair. He was dressed pretty nicely, all things considered, but that didn't stop her from recognizing him.

"What are you doing here?!" Maria's voice was higher and louder than she'd meant for it to be, but at least she had the sounds of the fashion show to blanket it. She felt a few eyes fall on her, but she refused to meet their gazes... though that may have been because she was too busy staring in shock at the boy she'd met during the sundae incident some time ago.

Stella Morozova

[Stella Morozova]

It was all and fun from the audience's point of view, but after some time Stella felt an incoming headache. The music was too loud. People's cheering was deafening. That bitch Monique tried to trip her backstage, but instead bumped into a worker while Stella swiftly avoided her petty move. Amateur. All in all, she was reminded why she disliked live events, patiently putting on new clothes and waiting for a break. Three more rounds on the stage were enough. Another outfit that changed its form, one more walk on the stage. Black turned into red, feathers burst into holographic flames showing the crowd technological marvels. Truly eye-catching inventions, but when she wore it for so long the appeal turned into inner irritation. And who would want to have something like that on while walking down the streets? Right, rich loved the attention. Finally, the host announced that in a moment the marine-themed clothes would be displayed and that was the sign for models. It was time to switch - new people were being prepared for the catwalk while the others could take a breath. Stella never was so grateful for a backstage packed with snobby models.

"Break time~" Pierre glanced at her while applying foundation on the male's model face. The girl approached him, looking at the display of colorful and advanced cosmetics on the table, looking for something. "Good work out there," he said gleefully, while she murmured something silently "You should be able to-" Pierre abruptly stopped. He gasped with terror, and in theatrical, distressed gesture raised his hands towards Stella. The girl stopped wiping off her makeup with wet tissues and blinked at him with a tired look. She lowkey expected him to pull some shit like that... Maniac. "My art! I poured my soul and heart to make you even more beautiful and that's how you're repaying me..?" Artist sighed deeply, while the model sitting in front of the mirror made an awkward face. This man was known for his quirks. He was drying off nonexistent tears and shook his head with disappointment "I'm deeply hurt Stella... Couldn't keep it on a bit longer?"

"Calm down, Drama Queen," the girl without any guilt reached for another tissue, methodically getting rid of mascara and eyeshadow on her face. "Besides, weren't you going to have me wear different makeup for the second part of the exhibition?" she asked with a slight sneer. The event had stages and certain models were obligated to attend it at different hours for distinct performances. Plus being underage meant that Stella by law was expected to work half the time. Thank gods.

"Yes, well-" Pierre stroked his goatee with a defeated look.

"No problem then," with the last tissue the remains of makeup were done for. Stella looked in the mirror, checking if she hasn't missed a spot, refreshed and relieved. Ugh, she disliked being plastered with that stuff... But work was work and without it now she felt better. Ruffling her hair, the girl brushed it with her fingers to style it back to her usual haircut. Pros of having short hair. "I'll see you later." She waved her hand, throwing tissues in the portable bin and placing hairpins on the table. Pierre sighed. He should have gotten used to her mindset by now. Stella stretched slowly, aiming her steps at the changing side of the backstage. "I'm off," she said unbuttoning the the coat and taking it off.

Nothing felt better than having some time for herself away from this rotten crowd... Seriously, as much as she enjoyed doing her work well, the others were the reason she loathed this profession. But enough about that. Stella send a quick message to her grandmother and switched the button on the side, activating holographic curtains in the dressing room. No way she'd go around with a color-changing outfit, take that shit away from her. She wanted some peace, not to roam the museum looking like a fucking neon sign! That's why she was dressed rather simply, but tastefully herself. Black tailored trousers and same color turtleneck with a white, halfway open shirt tucked in to emphasize the waist. Black jacket in hand. The only colorful accent was a pair of small circular earrings, with the left being additionally adorned with a navy blue father. And shoes - special black shoes that went in pair with her gloves, though the latter was hidden in her pockets. She was prepared for the unexpected... And kinda liked the idea that her kick could dent metal bars. Her device spat out some interesting and useful items and something told her it was better to keep them around.

After wrapping it all, Stella left the place using the secluded area for workers on the back. Rosina was already there. The elderly lady was wearing a smart suit in a warm gray color, pearl earrings, and a silk scarf. Very elegant, professional... But she couldn't hide her grandmotherly aura with soft, grey hair, warm smile, and handknitted pink sweater wrapped around her arms. Rosina was keeping Stella's purse with her, and a pair of fluffy ears with brown tips poked out as soon as she walked up to them.

"Sela?" Pafumon asked happily and smiled at her, sitting cosily in her small bag wrapped around in a white scarf. Their eyes grew bigger and shinier when she reached for the purse, looking at the little Digimon. "Seeela uuu," furball cooed softly, visibly glad to see her. Seriously, that dust bunny grew on her. How the fuck? And she thought that attachment to something else than shoes was impossible.

"Pafumon behaved well." Rosina smiled and gestured towards the Digimon. She offered herself to keep an eye on little fellow while her granddaughter was busy. Of course, Stella mentioned that last time they went out there were some troubles, so both decided to look out for Pafumon. In case something decided to eat them. "We had a stroll around La Galleria, we watched exhibitions and tried out some ourselves. They liked interactive photos!" Grandmother recounted serenely. They started walking towards one of the corridors that was the main point where the wings of the museum crossed. Unluckily, they had to pass the hall in close distance to the crowd... "We even got to see your performance! You did great dearie." Rosina gave her a gentle stroke on the shoulder.

"Did I?" she asked rhetorically, putting the strap on her arm and holding the bag closer. Maxim was stingy with praises and touches, so it felt a bit off. Digimon raised their head to look at her and let out a soothing sound as if they sensed her irritation. Stella rubbed her temple. "I was this close to stabbing a bitch but I stopped myself so I guess I did well." Nothing says composure like keeping the desire for a killing spree in check. Then again, she could have just pushed her from the catwalk into the audience... Better keep that in mind for the next occasion. "There's a cafeteria here somewhere, right?" Stella changed the subject. "I need more caffeine today to get through this mess, so I'd like to leave now." It was obvious that she meant distancing herself from the crowded hall. Without outfit and makeup, she was looking less spectacular, but not enough to have the pleasure of not catching people's attention. Just a quiet corner in a cafeteria would be fine with her, away from the excessively posh mass looking at exhibitions. Then again, how could she expect to find a calm spot during a fucking Expo? Hope dies last as they say.

"Second corridor on left from the entrance to the hall," her grandmother answered with a smile like she already predicted she would ask about that. She knew her enough. Rosina stopped and looked at the stage, the crowd, and the backstage hidden behind curtains. "I need to have a word with someone." She raised her hand. "I'll call you later dearie, have fun and try to behave, alright?" she looked at her with fondness and a bit of guilt, like it felt bad that she has to leave Stella alone now. Ah, getting used to her was hard.

"No promises." Stella waved as they part. Rosina left and the girl looked at the bag, leaving the hall. Pafumon was gazing at her silently with wonder and curiosity. "You're too young for coffee, aren't you?" she asked the Digimon. A bright smile was the only answer she got - what furball understood and what they couldn't grasp was still a mystery, but it didn't stop her from talking to them. "No matter, I'll get you something." she decided. Pafumon proved themselves to be an ever-hungry little being, able to eat a surprisingly big amount of food.

"Ooo!" Pafumon agreed.

Now to find that damned cafeteria...

[Isaac Sunderland]

Oof! Yep, predictably enough, Isaac had bumped into someone. See, this was why he spent most of his time not thinking. Every time he did something like "care about others" or "have ideas", it ended up backfiring on him! He snapped back to focus as he caught himself mid-stumble. Whoever he had bumped into, it wasn't someone big enough to throw him off course. Shit, who was it? A kid? Some little girl? God, he hoped it wasn't an old person. He'd feel awful if he bumped into an old person.

Then he heard that familiar voice stabbing into his ears, and irritation smothered the concern in his eyes to death.

"Oh, hey, it's you," Isaac said, with all the enthusiasm of Rasputin being led to his fourth execution of the day. Shit, what was her name again? Did she even give him a name? Or did she think a peasant like him didn't deserve the mouthfeel of her name on his lips? Oh well. Not like it mattered. There were probably people with a lot more interesting names around here anyway. Like Bella Mozzarella. This little angry yappy girl had a way less fun name than Bella Mozzarella.

Unlike this girl, Isaac kept his voice calm and even-tempered, his usual smirk creeping up on his face. "What am I doing here?" he repeated. "Well, y'see. I was taking one step. And then I was taking another step. And then I bumped into you, probably because you were in the way of my stepping. Though at least I had the courtesy to, oh, I dunno. Not slam dunk a cone fulla ice cream onto your little princess dress. Gosh, that'd really be a dick move, huh?" It had been a hell of an odd day that the two shared. As if a trickster god has been trying to convince the two to coexist, they were forced into the same building first by a freak rainstorm, and then by a blackout. Under that level of duress, they ended up somewhat tolerating each other. Would they extend the same courtesy to each other today? Probably not!

"How about you?" Isaac asked, remarkably casually for someone who had just delivered verbal jab after verbal jab. "Trying to buy the whole place out with all that New York rich girl money? Or are you just window shopping? Oh, oh, but if you're looking for platform shoes, you're out of luck. Not a single pair on sale. Trust me. I checked."

As Isaac sparred with his old nemesis, El had been enjoying a front row seat the show. It turned out when someone small, cute, and tapping a walking stick tried to pass through the crowd, the crowd just parted and let them through. What's that? Isaac? Overreacting to nothing for his little sibling's sake? Say it ain't so! They enjoyed all of the variety on display, both the models and more importantly their outfits. With their walking stick tucked under the crook of their arm for safe keeping, they fished out a tablet and diligently jotted down note after note on the designs being showed off today. There were so many cosplays they could make with the technology being seen here! Even the basics would look really, really good with a properly applied hologram and some shifting chromatic pigments. Finally, Gokus and Vegetas worldwide could actually go Super Saiyan! It was incredible!

When the intermission started, El almost found themselves disappointed. However, the grumble of their stomach was quick to cut their attitude short. It was right around lunchtime! They had to eat! "C'mon, bro! Let's grab something to e- uh, Isaac?" El asked, eyes widening with shock as they realized their big brother had slipped off on them. "You there? No?" A brief look around confirmed that Isaac wasn't here, and the shifting crowd around them made El unsure how to even begin tracing their steps. Yet after a brief check, they didn't let themselves stay too concerned. "He's probably a step ahead of me. I'm sure I'll catch him in the cafeteria," they reasoned.

With that, they began blazing another trail through the crowds, humming softly as they made their way to the cafeteria. If Isaac wasn't there by the time they grabbed a table, they could always just shoot him a text, right?

Maria Carver

[Maria Carver]

"Oh, hey, it's you"?! That was Isaac's response?! It was so unenthusiastic compared to Maria's bewilderment that it momentarily deflated her, only for her to cross her arms and internally puff herself back up. No, she would not let this guy, whatever his name was, get to her.

She was about to respond to his smart-aleck story about how he was walking (yes, hello, Maria knew how that worked) and ran into her, but then he brought up the sundae incident. Her frown tightened. Ugh, Maria should have gotten herself a glass of sparkling cider or something to carry around. But nooooo, she knew that if she carried something like that around this crowded museum, she'd probably end up spilling it in a collision just like this one. Curse her own intelligence! She could have finally gotten back at him!

When he finally stopped talking, Maria rolled her eyes. "Do you just really like hearing yourself talk?" She held up a finger to stop him from actually answering, then added another for each point she made next: "One: That isn't what I meant, and you know it. Two: I thought you would have gotten over the ice-cream thing by now. And three: That's rich coming from someone shorter than me. Then again, you did already said you looked." That last one had her smirking. Sure, she was wearing some surprisingly comfortable chunky heels that night, but she knew that she still had an inch or so on the older boy.

Stella Morozova

[Stella Morozova]

The cafeteria in La Galleria looked exactly as one would assume. Spacious, busy, stylish, and with the lines full of people eager to order something, be it a glass of water or a plate full of steaming fries. It lived to its name. With the prices that felt merely slightly higher than necessary it was a classic example of a place straight from the posh district, but accessible to everyone willing to visit the museum. So of course, it was packed to the brim with people. Ew, people...

Well, if she wanted to fuel her caffeine addiction Stella had to put up with the glances. The events were still ongoing and the rotation of guests was pretty fluctuated and uneven. Seems that lots of people were just about to finish and leave to continue admiring technological wonders, while the new flood arrived and filled the place. Right, securing a spot would be hard... But Stella got her ways. Now, this damned cafeteria was also properly decorated for the Expo. With strings of light, holographic animations on the ceiling, and colorful, neatly folded napkins on every table. Was it overkill or did she just like complaining? No matter... Keeping her purse closer Stella walked to the line leading to the cafe side of the cafeteria. Five steps to the side visitors were occupying the different counters, getting trays with snacks or meals. Huh, they combined two worlds in the menu neatly - nachos and souffle omelets in one place, that's an unusual sight. Not her thing though. She could survive on coffee and spite alone.

"One black coffee please," Stella placed her order when it was finally her turn. Reaching to her purse, squeezing her hand next to Pafumon, she pulled out her wallet. "No sugar, no cream, no need for those-" her eyes glanced down to see Digimon staring in awe at the display of sweets and candies right in front of them. She stopped mid-sentence and waved her hand, saying that she changed her mind. "Hmm... I wouldn't mind more cookies served with my coffee. And I'd like..." She pointed randomly to a little juice box and two packs of sweets that seemed suitable for toddlers. Furball was technically a baby. A growing baby, considering the amount of food they were able to devour during dinners. She paid, put the treats in the pocket of her purse, and grabbed the freshly brewed coffee. Now to find a semi-secluded spot to enjoy her hot drink in peace - that could be hard. After looking around it was obvious that it won't be so easy to find a place to sit, while people flooded in and out.

After two minutes of ignoring waving at her people, with a corner of her eye, Stella saw a smaller, empty table. What are the odds? There was only one chair, but as soon as Stella grabbed it, two people popped out of the ground. And here she thought that today's level of annoyance could stay on the lower levels.

"Everything is packed sweetie, you wouldn't mind us sitting with you? We'll find the chairs, so if you could save us the spot that would be great." A tanned guy sent her a charming smile, as he placed his bag and packed tray on the table. His friend was about to do the same, but Stella stopped them with a dissatisfied and cold gaze.

"Those are taken," she stated with polite apathy.

"But there are-"

"Taken," her voice was raised a little bit. People could choose to be ignorant and she could choose to end it the hard way if needed. "Leave," she narrowed her eyes, sending a clear, daunting message with the glimmer of irritation pulsing in her pupils. Wow, they were of a more brainy type, so they backed out without a fuss. That happened rarely, but the crowd around helped - sometimes even idiots are aware that it isn't right to make a scene in public. That aside, maybe finally she'd get a moment of break..?

A soft sound of crutches tapping the floor made her head turn to the side, to a kid balancing on its support and looking for a place to sit. Right. As much as Stella could be an insensitive bitch, she wasn't heartless. It wasn't worth it. When the younger kid was getting closer, still searching for the spot to settle, she raised her hand to catch their attention and gestured towards the chair next to her. Right after the girl took a step back, raising her head to look at the cafeteria's hall. Time to hunt for another place to sit... Or maybe she should go ask the cafeteria worker for a paper cup and wander around the place?

[Isaac Sunderland]

The way her stance deflated, and her frown tightened . . . in a weird way, it was perfect. For someone who acted so high-and-mighty and above it all, Isaac was thoroughly under this girl's skin. Not that it mattered what she thought of him. Or how often she thought of him. She was just some random brat he had the misfortune of bumping into. Literally. Twice. Irony was a bitch sometimes. And speaking of irony, the girl was asking Isaac how much he liked hearing himself talk. "It's more of an acquired taste, really," Isaac admitted, shrugging a little. "When you're stuck with it for as long as I've been, you learn to love it one way or another. Makes life way easier that way."

That was when Maria flew her finger high (not the middle one, because she was a proper lady. By some poor, confused definition of the term) and started counting. Why? Who knows! To be dramatic, probably. Isaac's eyes rolled visibly at the needlessly extra gesture, but he figured he'd let it play out. "You done?" he asked as a victorious smirk graced her face, much less impressed with that "sick burn" than she was. Height comments. Never heard one of those before! " 'Cause if so, first off, thanks for the counting lesson, Elmo." He, too, counted on his finger. Nobody was going to out-extra Isaac in his own home. Or in their own home, for that mattew! "And for number two, it's not like you gave me a name to remember you or anything. So it was either remembering you for the ice cream incident, or for being that girl whose face gets all scrunchy when you're in a bad mood. Seriously. It's like you swallowed a lemon or some shit. Figured the ice cream's at least the more dignified memory."

Yes. Dignity. That's what both of these two were displaying right now. "Last off, it's not how tall you are on the outside that counts," he continued. "It's how tall you are on the inside." He nodded sagely, as if this proved anything, or in fact made any sense whatsoever.

With that out of the way, he figured this little meeting was done. She had nothing more to say to him, clearly. And he had nothing more to say to her. Maybe now he could turn around, walk off, and- nope, that was a big ol' wall of people. When did so many people crowd around here? He knew the crowd was dense, but this was like a tidal wave of bodies. Immaculately well-dressed, dizzyingly perfumed, and oftentimes frustratingly tall bodies. If he had claustrophobia, he'd be a wreck right now. Instead, he had being-stuck-with-this-brat-ophobia, a much less common but still frustratingly persistent condition.

He could practically feel the people behind him bristling. And standing around squabbling like this wasn't going to get him any closer to finding El. It was time to move. "Look, I'm not here for me, okay? I'm here for someone else," Isaac admitted. "And I was trying to catch up with them 'til I stepped on the world's crankiest landmine. So I'll be out of your hair soon as the crowd breaks. Til then, let's just . . . move with it. We've already survived worse. You look to the left, I look to the right, and whoever finds the exit first owes the other a coke?" A remarkably measured plan! It seemed El really did bring out the best in Isaac.

As he started to move, he found himself talking. "They're big into cosplay and stuff. So as soon as they found out about today, I knew I had to bring 'em here. Let them see what they'd be looking forward to playing around with in the future. Me? I could take it or leave it. A good fit and a sharp color's all I need, not all this 'hat culture' stuff," he said, mercilessly butchering the term "haute couture" in the process. "How about you? 'Cause I get the feeling you're not just here for the show, either. I mean, if you wanted some tenth-generation Picasso to hang over your fireplace, there's like 51 other weeks you could've shown up.

Unlike Isaac, who was currently wrestling with both the crowd and his nemesis, El was having a much easier time. Turned out a gentler touch lead to a much easier day. Who knew? However, as they started looking around for a place to sit, the universe proved itself a little too kind. In a sea of taken chairs and occupied tables, someone turned away from the chair they were eyeing and gestured for El to come over. "Oh! Thank you!" they chirped, only to do a little double take as they recognized who the person was.

It was the model from earlier. And not only was she giving them a chair, but she was about to walk away from it because it was the only one left. As soon as they realized this, El stopped doing the little half-turn of an imminent sit and scooted away. "H-hey, wait!" they said. "You're that model from earlier, right? Stella? Oh, it must've felt like hours up on that stage for you. And I'm sure they don't just have chairs sitting around back there for you to be lounging on. No way I'm taking this from you after all that. Please, please, this one's yours.

Besides, I'm sure there's other chairs around here, right? I can wait for one of those." As El cast an eye to the other surrounding tables, it was clear that there were quite a few littered around. However, most of them were taken, if not by people than by proximity. There were so many four-seater tables with just three people in them. But not all was lost. Maybe one of them would open up soon?

Maria Carver

[Maria Carver]

Maria's eyes narrowed. So much for getting him to not answer. Did this guy not know what it meant when someone held up a finger for you to be quiet? Or did he just not care? Probably the latter, if Maria actually stopped to think about it.

"It wasn't a 'counting lesson,'" she said, "but you clearly need a lesson in proper manners." Because that's absolutely what the issue was here—manners. Not like Maria was any better, immediately piping up with a "My face does not look like that!" after Isaac's lemon comment. Though the indignation on her face was tinged with a dash of fear. Oh God, does my face look like that? But that was a thought Maria would keep to herself... and maybe test in the mirror later. Right now, there were other matters to attend to. Like not looking like she was thinking that.

Luckily for her, Isaac's last "point" melted her expression into one of dull disbelief. "That doesn't even make any sense."

Isaac had been wrong about Maria's having nothing left to say, even if it was just more arguing to try to come out on top, but that didn't matter when the two were boxed in by a wall of patrons. Ha! Now he couldn't get away! ... Wait, no, that also meant that he was free to snark back at her again. Curses! But to her surprise, he finally answered her initial question of why he was there in the first place. She was strangely relieved that he was there for someone else. Her brain might have broken if he'd said he was actually here for the art or something.

"Well, if you'd been watching where you were going..." she grumbled in response to his "crankiest landmine" comment. She pondered his proposition for a moment. "I'll decide what drink I want after I get us out of here."

Unfortunately, Maria didn't see a way to slip away if, by some miracle, Isaac found an exit first, so she immediately began scanning the crowd around her for any openings. For once, her small size would work to her advantage here... if she could find a way to use it. But the people around her were packed like sardines for some reason, so she was stuck being pushed forward alongside this annoying boy.

Who was still talking for some reason, Maria realized. Probably about the person he was here for? She caught the word "cosplay" in there somewhere and fully tuned in just in time to hear him utter the words "hat culture." She dared to break her steady gaze on the crowd to raise an eyebrow at him. Apparently, his butchering of "haute couture" was so bad that not even Maria could pick up on what the heck he was talking about. But then he was actually asking her about why she was there, and Maria was more than happy to throw that confusion aside.

"I'm here to admire the advances in art and technology," she said, putting a proud hand on her chest. "It's truly astounding how hologram technology has allowed art creation and restoration to progress. And, of course, I wanted to see the latest in fashion, as well." Her voice was confident and haughty as she spoke, feeling truly in her element... even if a lot of what she said had been borrowed from promotional materials and what had been mentioned in the exhibits. No matter! It was all about confidence, after all.

The smell of coffee and baked goods began to fill the air. Ah, that actually explained where all these people were going at once—Maria was feeling a bit peckish, herself.

Stella Morozova

[Stella Morozova]

Huh. That was new. Stella could tell that this kid with messy brown hair spouted all that out of sheer concern, trying to convince her to take back the very same seat she offered a second ago. Her slightly narrowed eyes looked thoroughly at the earnest face. A point was made, to be honest - but she was trained to be able to stand and maintain a certain position for long. If she couldn't manage that, was she even a model? Stella wasn't working out and enduring long gymnastic sessions for nothing after all... Aside from the merit of throwing lethal high kicks with ease. Well, another thing was being recognized outside of the catwalk and the other was the urge she saw in front of her to return the damned chair. It would have been welcomed - but Stella wouldn't even consider giving up on just earned spot if it wasn't for the crutches in the first place. There were lines even she wasn't feeling comfortable crossing, dammit... With a calm sigh, the girl shook her head slowly.

"Don't worry too much," Stella adjusted the straps of the black purse on her arm. "I'll get myself a chair, sit," she instructed the stranger, turning her back to aim her eyes at the cafeteria. And with that, the bag containing a fluffy Digimon, jacket on her shoulder, and a cup of steaming coffee in hand, she decided to go with a Plan B. The girl started maneuvering gracefully between the tables with a clear idea in mind, walking among the packed spots and corners. And soon enough she spotted something interesting. There was a table full of cups with the most expensive drinks, surrounded by a bunch of obnoxiously loud teenagers. They all were dressed in the same manner, which screamed about their parents' prosperous financial status and their lack of proper manners. That is, flashing the newest, most outrageous trends, even if they weren't suiting their looks. It was a fashion disaster, but it was catching attention. Even Stella in her minimalistic and elegant attire looked kinda shabby compared to them... Perfect. And right then one of the heavily tanned rich boys stood up and left, leaving his bag on the table. She couldn't get any more luck.

"Excuse me." Stella approached them, stopping behind the empty chair in question. She leaned on its back frame with her arms crossed, theatrically showing off all the things she was carrying. Almost in a way that could hint interest, she glanced at the group of teenagers and young adults that suddenly went quiet. Sometimes it scared her how easy things would be if she'd sink low enough to use her appearance for everything. Normally those blushed faces, shocked and happily dazed would be repulsive but now they were somewhat passable. They were contributing to something after all... Whatever they liked it or not. "Is this seat taken by any chance..?" she asked calmly, tilting her head. Light reflected on the bright blue feather on her earring. Of course, they wouldn't want to make her wait, would they?

"Of course not, it's yours," the most eloquent person hastily answered and Stella's inner monologuing voice snorted with a mocking chuckle. The guy fixed his collar and everyone around the table started to puff and swell in one way or another. Funny. They started making effort to start some idle chitchat, but she wasn't responding. She saw the guy who emptied this seat going in the direction of the restroom, so he was bound to come back... To the empty spot. He has only his lady-killers friends to blame. Pity.

"Thank you," she said emotionlessly, grabbing the chair with her free hand and turning around. Too bad she couldn't see the dumbstruck faces, but she could hear the awkward silence... Yup, that sure improved her mood a bit.

Balancing everything she was carrying without much effort, soon enough Stella reached the previous table. She placed a seat on the ground, putting her jacket on the armrest of her trophy. If she was supposed to sit somewhere, she could at least have a quiet spot near to the kid who seemed to be more genuine than the rest of the people in this damn cafeteria combined. Let her have this quiet bubble amid the ocean of talking shitty people... She sat on the hard-earned chair, casually brushing her hair with her fingers. Finally. With a bag on her lap and a full mug in her hands, Stella took a sip of long-awaited black, hot coffee. Only now did her break begin when familiar bitterness struck the taste buds and she could enjoy a brief moment of relative silence. Right, her phone, she had to check if Rosina tried to contact her. The girl placed the cup back on the plate, the side of her hand touching wrapped in transparent plastic cookies.

"Ooo?" ... The quiet rustling of the packets has awakened a hungry furball. She felt how Pafumon, who was sitting obediently in her purse so far, perked up, silently demanding her attention. The tips of their fluffy ears were visible above the tabletop when the little Digimon's eyes widened. Stella glanced down at her purse and met the gaze of a dust bunny, who with an innocent smile made a soundless request. Said request was connected to the careless little noise she made when she touched the cookies and was bound to the food. Pavlov would be proud... Stella blamed Rosina. Without even a sigh she started unwrapping a little, cinnamon biscuits and Pafumon's eyes lit up. She placed the whole cookie in Digimon's open mouth. They started eating right away, happily crunching sweet treats. Stella wasn't going to hide the fact that there was something alive in her purse, nor she was trying to announce it to the world - she simply fed the little critter with more cookies. They earned it.

"I didn't think I will be so easy to recognize without stage makeup plastered all over my face," after a short while Stella decided to voice her remote curiosity, deadpan admitting she wasn't a fan of that part of her job. What could she do about it? If the eyeshadow was supposed to change color, the nano-reflective fiber there had to be mixed with the special paste to stay on the skin. Pierre did everything he could to ease on the cosmetics, but without the colors and outfit to match, it wasn't worth the stage. Not like she wasn't eye-catching or recognizable without those things... There were a lot of pictures of her online from when she was still living in Russia. No doubt some gossip online account wrote detailed info about how she moved to another continent and started working for some not-global agency... One of the reasons she stayed away from social media like they were made of fire and she was soaked with petrol.

Tapping her phone Stella registered with a small relief that Rosina let her know that she'd be busy for a while. That gave her more time to savor the quiet solitude and caffeine. Pafumon decided to close their eyes after snacks and it seemed that the cafeteria was getting emptier and calmer. A holographic display of Expo's plan of attractions highlighted another major event to happen soon... Great. Stella elegantly raised her cup, leisurely drinking coffee. Perhaps this will turn into a decent break despite her doubts.