Oh God, You Again

[Aahz]

"Urrgh!! Who released all this smoke?" Dressmon's voice could be heard over the now increasingly panicked sounding voices of the crowd. While the crowd had been understandably weirded out by the black out and the floating, talking doll before the question of "Is this gas?" coupled with the very visible smoke threw the reasoning ability of the crowd out the window. There was a reason it was illegal to yell fire in a crowded theater when there was none and that reason was evident in abrupt shift from quietly sneaking away from the weird doll and its victim to outright fleeing.

The guard's voice rose in an attempt to regain order but it would be a failed attempt until the crowd was away from the smoke. The good news was that the crowd wasn't so panicked that the people were getting trampled. There was more than one grey-haired elder who went down, but if Stella took the time to look closer she would find that they were not her grandmother.

"Well of course you can't see my point, there's smoke everywhere! Innovating Pin: Gust![/i]" Dressmon declared before one hand drifted to her hat and plucked a blue and silver headed pin from her hat. As soon as the tip was free of the fabric the needle dissolved into silvery particles that spiraled with a rush of a cloyingly sweet smell akin to a smashed display of perfume. The particles took with them a gust of wind that left the spotlit catwalk free of smoke. The needles around Monica were revealed to not have moved from their spot. With a self-satisfied smile she pushed the pinhead, now a dull grey, against her hat where it stuck in place.

"Average? Me?! If anyone's the suck up around here it's clearly you, you self-centered bitch!" Monique hissed dangerously. Dangerously in that the there were pins floating pointed-side towards her and if Dressmon wanted well then the digimon could probably have a new pincushion. Instead the doll merely looked intrigued by the proceedings as she floating mid-air and foldeded her hands under in chin in an action that was almost delicate. "Everyone knows that you're Pierre's favorite, you even refuse to wear the make up and he let's you! Who else would get that?" She demanded, her expressioon twisted for a moment into rage. First she had been accosted while trying to earn a little more cash and then this? This frigid bitch calling her worth lesss and implying that she hadn't earned her position honestly. She opened her mouth to say more and then abruptly her expression twisted back into scared horror as the scissors floated up in view of her face and rotated, the blades still shut.

"That is quite enough of that! Why if I didn't cut you off you might go on forever!" The doll giggled as the scissors wiggled to accentuate her point. "Now, lets take a look at you..." She cupped her chin in one hand and peered at Stella as she continued talking, the doll's face taking a serious look as the model spoke. At the question she rolled her eyes and straightened back up in the air with an annoyed look on her face. Monique shot Stella a conflicted look, anger and fear warring on her face but in the end, and perhaps helped by a particularly quick whirl of the needles around her head, desperation won out and she gave Stella a pleading look. "Mocking the rest of you? Seriously? With what you all were wearing? Oh no no no! The insults to you have already been made."

"But you..." The doll waved one hand in the air to bring one of the needles to hover over her shoulder, sharp end pointed toward Stella. She drifted around over Stella's head, the needle turning to sink itself into her hat through the pin head. "You are clearly bad at working with others, and that just won't do with my designs! I want a model my clothing doesn't have to fight against to get attention."

===

Elliot got a nod at his comment and an amused smirk on the white haired student's face. He glanced at the four people around the table then lifted his eyebrows a bit. "Seems like you're the weirdest things here, lettin' your friend run off into the dark like that alone."

He turned back around to the cards his friends were dealing out with a finality that suggested he was done with this topic and the group.

Out in the hall there was a sound of increased muttering and some restlessness that had the employee by the door looking out curiously.

[Isaac Sunderland]

"I mean, I agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend, didn't I?" Isaac said in response to Maria's question. Did Isaac seriously just diss himself and Maria simultaneously? At the very least, he seemed to be surprisingly good natured about the whole thing. And he even had the mercy to let the bit die! Then again, that was a mercy to both parties. If Isaac had to dote on Maria for one more second, he was pretty sure he'd need to scrub both his brain and his mouth out with soap.

He had no idea who, or what, the Digimon Maria was talking to wanted. But he did know one thing for sure. "You were totally freaking out," he said. "Or at least doing that face scrunchy thing we were talking about. See, see, look! You're totally doing it again."

Maybe dunking on Maria wasn't the right move here, though. Every second wasted on her was time spent not getting to the bottom of this. "So. Lord Daemon, huh?" he asked. "Is he the one that killed the lights and started all this panic? Or are you just serving him some other way? 'Cause, uh, if serving him somehow revolves around bugging her, I'm sure as hell not complaining." Okay, maybe he had a little bit of time left for dunking on Maria. "But if he didn't have a hand on this, then whatever caused it is in your way, right? And if something's in your way, then that something's in Daemon's way. That's all the more reason for us to get to the bottom of it, right?"

Isaac wasn't the only one taking time out to tend to another's Digimon. El, too, held Pafumon's bag close. The wriggling and whining were like little stabs to their heart, and they opened the bag by the slightest amount to at least give the poor thing some air and reassurance. "Hey, hey. It's okay," they said. "If your human's who I think she is, I know she can take care of herself. Like, really, really well. Trust me. I heard it from someone I really trust, so that's two levels of trust for you."

They paused for a moment, peering into the bag to try and get a sense of what was currently troubling the little Digimon. They took a little bit of food from their plate and lowered it into the bag, just to try and bring a little cheer to the poor, scared creature's day. After doing so, they softly smiled down towards it. "Is there anything I can do to help make you feel better? Meep once for yes, meep twice for no, okay?" they said. Maybe the offering of food would make the Digimon more agreeable to such a request.

White hair didn't seem to be much help. However, he did have a good point. Stella might have been . . . brash. And solitary. And hard to get along with. But she did just charge off on her own towards some sort of unknown threat. At the same time, Isaac couldn't help but notice the commotion slowly accruing by the hall. "I don't think we're gonna get much done standing around here," Isaac decided. "Maybe we don't go charging in guns blazing like a certain someone did. But if we're going to try and find out what the hell's going on, then we should at least keep our eyes on where the action is. C'mon, El." With that, he skulked off towards the hall, ready to quietly peer through the doorway. El was right behind him, their presence a natural barrier against thoughtless crowdgoers. Turned out nobody wanted to bump into a kid with a walking stick. Who knew?

As they approached the door, Isaac peered over his shoulder. Was he checking for anything he missed before he headed out? Or was he actually waiting for Maria?

And did he even notice that, after reaching the door, El started slipping back in the direction Stella had previously went?

Maria Carver

[Maria Carver]

Maria's face fell from anger to bewilderment. Isaac still wasn't denying that he didn't think, but... did he just diss Maria and himself at the same time?! Maria didn't even know how to respond to that. She did, however, know how to respond to Isaac's making fun of her face again: She crossed her arms and turned her head away with a "Hmph! What is this, Gang Up On Maria Day?"

PetitMamon turned to Isaac at the human's mention of Lord Daemon. "Hm? No, I don't think he caused this. I haven't seen him since I ended up here." He smiled innocently. "I've just been messing with Maria 'cause it's fun!"

"Hey!"

The devilish Digimon burst into childish laughter. But then, he thought the rest of Isaac's words over. "Hmm... I dunno about that... buuuuuut if someone's playing a prank and I'm not involved, then I don't like that! I wanna give 'em a piece of my mind!" Maybe Isaac's words hadn't quite had their intended effect, but they seemed to be getting PetitMamon riled up, anyway.

Maria just sighed. Great, another weirdo for this circle she'd somehow found herself in.

She turned her nose up at the white-haired boy's comment. "That's her problem, not ours." But Isaac seemed think that the best thing to do was to go toward the danger instead of staying put.

"Hey, wait for me!" PetitMamon called before flying after Isaac. "I wanna see, too!"

And then Maria was alone. In the near-darkness. Surrounded by total strangers and possibly other weird creatures. It really wasn't any of her business what exactly was going on. All she cared about was waiting until it got resolved and then going home as soon as possible. And yet...

"Ugh! Hey, don't leave me alone in here, you jerk!" Maria shouted before power-walking after Isaac. Dammit, this was what she got for coming here alone to show off...

Stella Morozova

[Stella Morozova]

Out of every fucking unpredictable scenario that could have ruined her day, that was it. Not a meteor hitting the planet, not a global crisis, not even her mother calling saying she wanted to reconcile with her, no. It was a batshit crazy Lunatic Digimon with fashion obsession and the worst possibly entitled model at her mercy, and it was her duty to save the day. Fuuuck. The world hated her, did it not? Deep down Stella was glad that she was able to scare the people away, because with a crowd here everything could have gotten messy very quickly. The gust of wind cleared the area easily and judging by the work those pins made, there was more to them than she initially thought. Also, the Dressmon seemed to follow a particular set of life rules - like every artistic type, which was only making it more annoying to talk to her, and Monique... Was Monique. As soon as she was allowed to speak, her brain didn't catch up that she could have played along with her, but started yelling profanities. No class at all... And the Digimon even supported that? Fucking unbelievable - but perhaps there was a way to reason with her? Stella wouldn't stray away from any kind of fight, but she wouldn't mind having free time for the rest of the evening either.

She could only sigh. The catwalk in an empty hall and the silence around created quite a bizarre mood. Faint echoes of the crowds passing were enough to highlight every sound in the enormous space here... The rubbing of pins against the fabric and the noise the Digimon made while moving was no doubt unsettling... And dangerous. Stella needed to be on her guard while they were discussing something, and the other voice was only getting in the way.

"I stand by my point," she added with a stone-like resolve, polishing her nails against her jacket - the nails that were still in the gloves, that is - and glanced at the duo in front of her. Stretching her fingers she breathed slowly, pulling strands of hair out of her face. "If you wanted to insult me, I would have to value your opinion first - nice try though," Stella wasn't having it, but she wasn't irritated by Monique's outburst of cussing. One mosquito wasn't enough to piss her off like that. "Huh, I wonder why..." she started speaking with a deadpan voice, closing the distance between them and walking in a circle around the spot where the model was trapped. Of course, keeping the distance just in case she'd have to punch or kick anything. "Perhaps because I don't need make-up most of the time?" she looked her dead in the eye, sarcastically tilting her head and glaring at Monique. Stella was above petty things like jealousy, but others? That's why she hated working with people, everything was getting messy when emotions and entitlement started to dance together. "But there are events when it's still required... I think it has something to do with the contract for today's work that states that to be here and get paid I would have to let my face be smeared with all that glittery shit? And I'm here because I agreed," she stopped, adjusting the strap of her glove, with her side towards the Digimon and the model. "But I'm sure you have read the papers already like everyone else, so no hard feelings there Monique."

Well, she tried to help her, didn't work, could she leave now? Seriously. The no-make-up thing was low. Some models refused to wear linen clothing, claiming it's too cheap and you don't see Monique shitting on them. The girl was irritating and Stella would have left either way, but there was still something holding her in place. And that was the conviction, that if she won't do something about it now, things are going to get uglier and it would be a harder mess to clean up later. Stella valued her free time. For fucks sake, it felt like she was now part of some secret service agency involving Digimon, but there be no recognition or days off ever - goddamit.

"Oh, that's complicated," Stella turned her head towards the Dressmon raising her shoulders, and glanced at the Digimon in question. Monique has frozen in the same pose again and she couldn't figure out how to free the girl with all those pins. Pulling them out would be too time-consuming, but so far she wanted to keep Dressmon's attention focused on her. "You know, being a model is more often now a business rather than art, with the hierarchy, connection to fashion brands, and all that shit. That's the ugly truth," Stella could shrug, almost too eager to start talking about her fellow model. Because who asked for extra time on the catwalk to get more exposure despite the contract clearly saying they would each get the same hours? Normally Monique wouldn't get that, because applied rules clearly described working time - if someone would kindly let a certain institution know, the agency would be under volitation of the working condition. There were reasons why models had to work only a specific number of hours a day, otherwise, they could faint from exhaustion. Whoever added those extra hours must have known this - but clearly wasn't thinking. Plus Monique gets a bonus for sucking up to higher-ups and has a spot saved in every project so far, despite others trying as hard or even harder..? That wasn't fair at all. She couldn't care about the reason she was doing all that, but she was rubbing it in the faces of others, not trying even to be discreet. Stella didn't care much about exposure, she just wanted to do her job and get paid. "It should be hard work that promotes a model... But some people above us pick favorites and give them better contracts than others, just because they prefer being swayed by a sucking-up toady than giving a hard-working model a chance." Because yes, Stella knew a lot. Monique wasn't the only person in the agency with a mild amount of dirt hidden in the closet...

The thing was now, would Dressmon be in any way convinced about that? Stella placed her hands on her hips. There was a way that she hoped, would make her focus more on something else - like tailoring more clothes for the bigger number of people. That is, if she took the bait, that would be striking right at her artistic ego.

"And now, you're here, trying to make that entitled excuse of a model a special outfit to stand out even more. Tch," she clicked her tongue with displeasure. Stella didn't need a reason like that to lash at Monique, but it wasn't needed right now - so whatever she said was boiled down to the needed minimum. "If you'd seriously cared about fashion, you'd try tailoring an outfit for each of every model here to give them equal footing - and here you are picking a favorite just like those assholes above. I bet you didn't even think about that..." Stella raised her open hand, resting it on her face and her mouth slowly spoked the next, doubtful question with a neutral tone. No mocking there... But no expectancy either. "Or maybe you aren't up to that challenge? Are you?" with her usual expression Stella assessed Dressmon. "Ah, it's clear now... No doubt. You picked the best model in your eyes because you were afraid you won't be able to make as striking outfits for those that are still lacking, yet working hard on their performance..." shaking her head with disappointment Stella dusted her arms. "And here I thought that designers had pride."

The bait was set. Stella wasn't sure if adding fuel to the fire would help, but she needed to make a stand. A quick tap on her Digivice scanned the area to check if any more illegal immigrants from the digital dimension, or whatever it was called, were nearby. Hopefully, no. But if they were, they could have been worse than this fashion fiasco here. Huh, and did she just say that Stella competes with clothes? Now that was a novice statement...

"Damn. I don't have to compete with anything, outfits or people alike. I don't need it." Her voice dropped one tone and the neutral voice started to hint at indulgence. How could she not? The Digimon's way of thinking was like someone who just started to work in a designer career and started choking on fame and eagerness. The glove on Stella's right hand started to be covered with a white rime, patterns blooming on the smooth dark fabric. "Won't admitting that you don't know how to make an outfit that would match me be easier? You must be an even worse designer than I thought. Isn't that what it should be about?" she smirked. "I dress to impress, but the only person I want to impress is me... I enjoy clothes I look good in. If I can show off the outfit and myself on the catwalk, sure, why not? But the point for the model is to know that she's good enough to present what she's wearing without applause... That's why I don't need your affirmation you sleazy little ragdoll," she narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms on her chest, while the Digisoul was starting to rise... "No matter... I heard that our fashion agency could use a new designer, but if that's how you work, I'm not sure you'd last there," she said so confidently. At the same time, Stella continued to walk toward the stairs from the catwalk, clearly stating that she was above anything that was happening here.

Now, either the Dressmon will go ballistic about her accusation and attack her, or will she try to prove herself as a skilled seamstress? Digimon could talk, they were intelligent enough to be reasoned with - but than again humans could talk and some of them were far from intelligent.

Meanwhile, poor Pafumon was stuck in the bag, wiggling, making all the weird little noises, and trying to break free from the prison that Stella put them in. All the signatures around them of the wild Digimon and sounds of commotion were only making furball more uneasy. When Ed peeked in, they could spot Pafumon, for a change, frozen in an expectancy of... Of... Who knew? They only left out a soft, miserable sigh and black beady eyes looked at the kid with a plead... Perhaps the Digimon felt something because the movement in the bag stopped once again, just in time, so Ed could pull once again their disappearing stunt without Pafumon's voice alarming others. Truly, they were partners in crime - and off they went!

[tsukistar]

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