"Here," my azure-eyed companion says from her closet as she rummages around. I'm seated on her bed, perched uncomfortably on the very edge so that I take up the least amount of room possible. She's changed her outfit since breakfast to a cute black turtleneck with red jeans, and we've both already prepared for the day, but she has insisted on letting me borrow one of her jackets so I don't freeze to death. And so, here we are, with her fumbling around in her coset, and me twiddling my thumbs awkwardly. "This oughta match your color scheme, and it's nice and cozy!" She pulls out a dark cherry-colored down coat, with black faux-fur trimmings around the hood, cuffs and edges. My jaw falls of its own accord, and she beams, satisfied with herself.

"Whoa," I gasp, eyes wide. It looks so... so... luxurious! She sashays over, shoving the coat into my hands. "W-Wait, are you sure I shou—"

"Of course I am," she interrupts. "It's a little short on me, so it'll be the perfect length for you," she 'gently' turns me around despite my mild protests and fidgeting, and begins to 'help' me into the jacket, though it seems more like she's stuffing me into it. Being gentle isn't really something she can do, is it? "Theeeeeeere you go~!" She sings, and I roll my shoulders, faux fur tickling the back of my neck. Glancing down at myself, I blink, lifting one arm and watching the fluffy black mess at the edge of the sleeve billow about.

"Er," I blink, realizing my hand is completely swallowed in the fluffy trappings.

Rouge leans over, one hand on each of my shoulders, peering down at my arms. "Oh," she smirks, starting to giggle. "It's a little long on you!" Pulling back, she tries not to laugh louder. "And here I thought it'd fit well..." My cheeks heat up as her snickering intensifies. "Too short for me, too long for you!"

"H-Hey, I can't help it that you're so tall!" I stammer, irritated but not willing to yell at her after receiving something so nice. She seems to catch on to my mild frustration, thankfully, and she stifles her laughter behind one hand.

"Sorry, sorry," she waves a hand at me. "I just thought it was kinda cute." Turning back to me, she smiles apologetically, cheeks a mite bit pink.

The fire streaking my muzzle flares, igniting my ears, and I indignantly huff, "I'm not cute," placing my hands on my hips in a gesture of irritation.

"Of course not," she answers, stepping up to me again, reaching behind my head to pull the hood of the jacket over my quills. "You're just a 2-and-a-half foot tall, eternally grumpy little hedgehog...whose ears are bright red right now." Giggling, she pats the top of my head, and I glower up at her, embarrassed.

"...Can we just get this over with?"

--------------

My breath trails out of my mouth in wispy grey fog, like smoke, as we walk down the crowded streets of the city; I stick as close to her as I can, with my hood up and my head down, trying not to look at anyone we pass. She claims to be leading me to a specific place, but I can't even keep track of how many turns we've taken, and I almost wonder if we're lost; after a couple more turns, though, we stop in front of a small shop. I scuffle a bit closer to her as people keep trekking down the street, maneuvering around us. "Here we are!" She chirps, speaking louder than normal to be heard over the din of the busy city as she pulls me closer, shoving me in the direction of a brightly-lit doorway. A bell hanging above the door chimes, advertising our entrance, and Rouge wraps her hand around my wrist, other hand still clutching my damaged jacket. "This way, handsome," she purrs, pulling me past groups of people all chattering cheerfully. We maneuver through the crowds easily, and I let her tug me along, trying not to focus on the amount of people surrounding us. After a bit of a walk, we come to a stop in front of a doorway, above which sits a sign proclaiming "ReTail." She pulls me inside, and I note that this shop is a rather small and slightly darker place; it has large workshop desks littered with various garments and such, and several different anthropomorphic creatures work on fixing said garments. "This is where I go to get my stuff repaired," she informs me. "They're specific to us—run by nonhumans, made for nonhumans. They do the best damn work I've ever seen." Pausing to nod to a crocodile as we pass them (they nod back, politely), she continues, "And they're the fastest, too. We drop your coat off now it'll be done by the time we're finished shopping and ready to go home, I bet."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. "Even though the back is completely trashed?"

"I've brought stuff here that's full of bullet holes and half-burned," she answers with a laugh. "They fix it all within two days."

"Damn," I murmur as she stops in front of a desk, behind which sits a cheerful brown-furred cat with long, curly blue hair.

"Hey, Rachel!" Rouge says to her cheerfully.

"Ah, Rouge!" The cat smiles, amber eyes glowing cheerfully. "Back again, I see. What can I do for you now?" Her long blue tail swishes from side to side behind her as she glances over at me, mildly curious.

"I need to repair this," The azure-eyed bat answers, plopping my hoodie on the table in front of the cat, who delicately picks it up and examines it from all sides. "It got wrecked on our last mission and it's the only coat he owns, so we need it by the end of today... Is that plausible?"

"You kiddin'?" Rachel answers, flashing glittering teeth in a wide beam. "This is the least-ruined thing we've seen all day." Folding it neatly, she tosses it to a punk hedgehog walking by, and he snatches it effortlessly out of the air with a flat 'thanks Rachel' and a shake of his head to sweep his bangs out of his eyes. "It'll be done in two hours at most!"

"Tch," the hedgehog snorts as he slips the jacket onto a standing mannequin on his table, "more like one and a half hours at most." Flashing me a small smile, he picks up a needle and thread, immediately going to work.

"Don't listen to Cain," Rachel answers teasingly with a laugh, speaking more to him than to us, "he's such a braggart."

"That I am, but I even do that better than you do," he fires back, picking out fabrics from a spool of assorted materials.

Rouge giggles, then turns back towards the exit, putting one arm round my shoulder to help guide me, though I don't really need it. "Well, we best get going," she calls to Rachel, waving pleasantly. "We'll be back later!"

"Let go of me," I hiss softly such that only she can hear, squirming a bit. I really don't like being held this close; her breath is hitting my face and I'm worried that if I step wrong, I'll be treading on her feet.

"Not 'til we get outside," she purrs back, squeezing my shoulder with a grin on her face.

"Why?" I grouse, moving a bit more, but she just chuckles as we enter the main store, leaving the small outlet store behind.

"Because," she answers, nuzzling her face into my neck abruptly—an action which I do not appreciate at all, whatsoever...okay, maybe a little bit—and snickering, "I love to annoy you!" With a snort, I turn my head away from her, hoping my face isn't as bright red as it feels; much to my dismay, however, she lifts her nose from my neck and the volume of her laughter increases. "My, my, maybe instead of calling you the Ultimate Lifeform, we should call you the Ultimate Tomato!"

"Sh-Shut up!" I stammer, furious and embarrassed, shaking her off as I start to walk at a faster clip towards the store's exit.

"Awwwwww," she answers, jogging to catch up, "Shadow, I was just kidding, really." As I step out onto the street, she latches onto my arm, trying not to lose me in the massive crush of people. In response, I let out a 'hmph' and keep walking, but I let her pull ahead of me a bit, leading me where we need to go. This is going to be one damned long day...

---------------

"I don't think this is a good idea..." I mumble, hands jammed in my pockets, as my overly-excited partner holds a pair of pants up to my waist. I don't even know if I would want to wear pants, let alone bright red ones.

"You're right," she answers, putting the pants back, and I breathe a silent sigh of relief. Unfortunately, that proves premature, as she continues with, "That red doesn't match your stripes at all. Too purpley, not enough deep crimson."

Groaning, I face-palm. "Rouge. I'm not wearing bright. Red. Pants." She frowns at me for a moment, flicking her ears, then turns right back round and begins looking through the clothes again, muttering something to herself. I shrink back a bit, apprehensive; after a lot of searching, she pulls out a different pair of pants and holds them up. They're jet-black with red threading outlining the pockets and belt-loops and a shiny silver skull for a button.

"How about these?" She inquires, examining the length. "I think this size will fit you." I shrug, not really caring—anything's better than those godawful red ones. My batty partner bites her lip, catching on to my lack of enthusiasm, but she doesn't say anything, only drapes the jeans over her arm and keeps looking. "Gimme some input here, 'kay?" She says over her shoulder. "I'm not gonna judge your fashion sense or anything, just steer ya in the right direction."

"M'kay," I reply quietly, trudging along behind her as we move through the shop. By the time we reach the back, she and I have picked out several different things to try on, though I'm starting to doubt this shopping trip more and more as time goes on. Eventually, though, she coaxes me to the dressing rooms, then shoves me and the clothes into a stall and shuts the door behind me, telling me to try some of it on then let her look at it. I blink at my reflection in the small, mildly dirty mirror as I shrug off the thick jacket she gave me this morning; turning my back to said mirror, I inspect the garments we've collected so far, trying to figure out which one I'd rather wear first. Hm, guess it doesn't matter, since I'm going to wear all of them eventually. After a few moments of wrestling and a lot of awkwardness, I finally manage to put on a pair of rather tight pants that feel a bit odd but not uncomfortable and a baggy sweater composed of galaxy-print material with jet-black 3/4 sleeves. I'm not so sure about this... Nervous, I bite my lip, but before I can change my mind, a knock sounds at the door.

"Hurry up already," Rouge says cheerfully, her voice muffled, and I jolt, startled.

"R-Right," I stammer, reaching a bit shakily for the doorknob. Oh, God, this is going to be so weird... Slowly I turn the knob and crack open the door, but my snowy partner apparently doesn't want to wait and pulls it all the way open impatiently.

Her eyes widen when they hit me, and I flinch internally. Yep, I was right, I was right, this is weird, I say to myself, blinking nervously at her; much to my surprise, however, she just squeals and hugs me. "Oh my God, you look so great!"

"Wh—Really?" I choke, startled, and she pulls back with a huge grin. Why is she so excited about all of this? I don't understand any of what's going on...

"Totally! Just turn around for a sec—" she puts her hands on my shoulders and turns me. Puzzled, I oblige, and after a moment she turns me back around. "Yep, it fits! Okay, go try on the other stuff now too."

"O-Okay," I reply, still a bit unnerved, as she nudges me back into the stall. If she's going to have that sort of reaction each and every time, it's going to be more than a little difficult for me. Pulling the sweater over my head, I shake myself off, fluffing my chest fur out a bit (the shirt had flattened it in a rather unflattering manner) as I pick up another shirt to try on. Then again, it is really sweet of her to do this for me, even though I don't entirely see the point of it. Pulling the shirt over my quills with a bit of a struggle, I sigh. Maybe there isn't a point, maybe it's just supposed to be nice. Turning to look in the mirror, I smile shyly. ...This really is so unusual for me. To think, I'm actually going to own things. It seems so foreign... A broad grin spreads across my muzzle as Rouge taps the door again.

But I could get used to this.

--------------

The day continues in much the same fashion, with us ducking in and out of different stores, buying articles here and there. By midday, we're both tired and loaded down with bags from random assorted places; Rouge suggests we break for lunch and try to compile our haul down to a couple of bags rather than the crap-ton we're carrying. I, of course, have absolutely no objections to that idea, and before long we're seated at a small café downtown, right in front of the window. Sunlight streams in, pleasantly illuminating us as we sort through our haul; Rouge has, of course, shopped for herself too, and truthfully I've been enjoying myself an awful lot. This down jacket she gave me is like a puffy cocoon of warmth; it absorbs body head and sunlight, magnifying it, and I've hardly felt the cold at all thanks to it. Since we're inside now, I've half-unzipped it, letting it hang loosely, the hood flopped down over my shoulders. Rouge, too, has half-shrugged off her coat, and is busy putting different garments in various bags, trying to compile and reduce our load. A waitress swings by, takes our drink orders and drops a couple of lunch menus on us; Rouge orders coffee, and I get a latte, which is apparently a combination of tea and coffee, and sounds delightful.

"What does BLT stand for?" I ask, holding the laminated paper carefully between my claws as I squint at it.

"It means the sandwich contains bacon, lettuce and tomato." She answers, flipping the menu over. "They've got soups and salads too, if you'd prefer that to a sandwich." Scratching her chin, she hums quietly, and I decide to go back to gazing at the paper again, thoroughly scanning over all the items; eventually, I settle on their Deluxe Turkey Sandwich, which is purely given the title "deluxe" because it has a second kind of cheese on it. Flicking my ear lazily, I let my eyes drift out the window, blurred and unfocused, my chin resting on my knuckles and my palm, fingers curled loosely. The paper makes little whooshing noises as I play with it, fanning the table lightly, mind off in space as I stare up at the clouds. I wonder, what sort of mission will we go on tomorrow? Where will it lead us? My crimson gaze sweeps back over to Rouge, and a small smirk lights up my muzzle; I feel the tip of my fangs bite into my lip when the skin on my face pulls oddly, as it always does when I smile. I've seen so many different things already. And— my train of thought suddenly derails, crashes, and turns into a six-car pileup, coming to a screeching halt, and my gaze snaps back to the window abruptly. Someone is standing across the street, a hood pulled up over their head, the shadow of it obscuring their eyes, but I can see that same sort of chilling, gloating smile across their muzzle that I grew up seeing. Shit.

I avert my eyes calmly, putting the menu down, and turn to Rouge with a relaxed expression on my face. "Decided what you want yet?" I inquire, feigning normalcy, though that person's smile still lurks behind my eyes.

Come here... A voice hisses with a metallic and harsh undertone; I dismiss it, focusing only on the cheerful white bat in front of me.

"Probably the turkey and swiss on rye," she answers, putting her menu down too. "You?"

Come on... You know you want to... It purrs again, and my eyes involuntarily slide to the window again. The hooded figure stands in the middle of the street now, and I stiffen to refrain from flinching.

"I was thinking about the deluxe turkey, m'self," I reply lazily, eyes glued to that menacing simper.

Come outside... Come here... A subtle ringing begins to echo behind its voice, sounding like a broken speaker's high-end tones, and my eyes slide back to Rouge as she chuckles.

"Careful—your eyes aren't bigger than your stomach, are they?" She teases as the ringing grows louder. I smirk, leaning forward a bit, propping my elbows on the table and resting my chin in one hand.

"'Course they aren't," I respond, "that's medically impossible."

Just come outside...

The azure-eyed bat laughs, swatting my arm lightly. "You know what I mean, you silly hedgehog," she giggles, readjusting her wings. She seems to do that quite an awful lot, I notice. The ringing gets louder, but somehow I can still hear her through it as she continues, "Look, don't get too much food, cuz we can't carry it home. We're not even halfway done with our shopping!"

Don't you want to hear what I have to say?

"Halfway...done...?" I echo, shocked. "But we've been to, like, twenty stores!"

I hold the secret of your existence in my hands... The smile flashes across my vision again, and I know the figure is standing on our side of the street by now; still, I ignore it, focusing only on Rouge. Shut up, jeez.

"Yeah, twenty out of fifty or so," she smirks as my jaw drops. "I drew up a whole plan for this, and so far we're following it to the letter!"

"Hang on," I shake my head to clear it. The ringing is so oppressive, I'm starting to have difficulty even following the flow of conversation. "You lost me at 'fifty'—are there even that many stores out here?"

"Oh, Shadow!" Rouge says in a faux-condescending manner, flapping a hand at me.

Come here...

"The downtown is much more vast than you're giving it credit for!" Before she can finish, the waitress swings by again, startling us both.

"Know what you want yet?" She inquires sweetly, and we nod in tandem.

"Can I get the turkey'n'swiss on rye, please?" Rouge replies in a polite tone, handing her the menu.

"Sure thing!" The woman scribbles something down on a notepad, then turns to me with a customer-service-type smile.

Come on... I feel the figure's face pressed up to the window behind me, but I refuse to turn around. You know you want to.

"I'll have the deluxe turkey," I say quietly, and she nods, writing that down too.

"Alrighty! Is that all?" She flicks her eyes from one of us to the other; we nod at the same time again, and a broad customer-service smile lights up the waitress's face. "Great! Your coffee should be out shortly, by the way."

We both thank her as she whirls around to deliver our orders to the kitchen; as soon as she leaves, Rouge turns to me and asks, "Now, what were we talking about again?"

Just come join me. It won't be that hard... I turn properly in my seat, stealing a glance at the face pressed to the window; just as I had thought, it's the demon from my nightmare, though it seems to have found itself a duplicate of my jacket, only this one is disgustingly splattered with blood. In addition, it's adopted Lightpaws' signature smirk as opposed to the creepy, gaping maw filled with knifelike teeth, though its teeth are still disturbingly large and serrated.

Strange, I say to myself, looking back at Rouge. It's evolving. "I dunno, something about our plans for today?" I hope it doesn't stick around for the whole meal. I don't really want to see that staring at me while I eat.

"Oh, that's right!" She smacks her fist into her palm loudly, beaming. "Yeah, so, we're not gonna be out suuuuuuper late tonight, but we probably will be having dinner out here."

Come here... The figure flickers, seeming to appear in three places side-by-side all at once, but only one image retains its original coloration; the other two are odd, with one being red and another blue. It's a disturbing effect, to say the least, lasting only for a split second at a time. I continue to ignore it as the voice starts to distort, almost sounding like it's melting. Come outside, let me show you... The ringing, too, seems to twist and warp, and I flick my ear irritably.

"Where will we go for that?" I ask, and the figure turns to look at her too; I bristle slightly, but force myself to relax immediately, though the fact that it even dares clap eyes on her is ticking me off.

"I'm not sure," she answers, pouting a bit, brows furrowed. "By then we should be in the East End, so—"  A waitress, different from our previous one, bustles up, interrupting, and puts our coffee on the table, announcing each drink as she plops it down. The two of us smile and thank her politely, and once she leaves Rouge barrels on, "—so we'll be closest to my favorite Thai place—we'll probably end up going there."she

Come on— the demon snarls haltingly; I refuse to look over at it. The ringing is growing louder and louder, but I force myself to ignore it, eyes fixed intently on Rouge's as she keeps talking. I cradle the steaming mug of my coffee in my hands, waiting for it to cool down a bit, and its heat slowly seeps into my fingertips—it almost burns me, but I hold on, because at least if it's hurting me I know I really am here, this is not a dream after all.

"Of course, if we end up not being in the mood for Thai, there's always The Gyro, across the street from it. That's a great Greek place." My frost-white companion shrugs cheerfully, taking a sip of her own coffee, then wincing as she burns her tongue; putting the mug down with a grimace, she finishes, "So, y'know, we've got options."

"Sounds good to me," I reply, and to my worry, at that moment the figure in my periphery vanishes. With it, though, the ringing disappears, so I presume it's given up, at least for now. Lifting the mug to my lips, I take a sip of the boiling-hot and bitter beverage; it slashes across my tongue, searing it, and at the worst time, too.

"Hey," the figure growls, seated in the chair next to me, leaning across the table with one arm lazily propping its head up. All sound ceases the moment it opens its mouth, and I freeze, eyes wide, as a cruel cheshire-cat-esque grin spreads across its muzzle, the knife it twirls in one hand gleaming and flashing in the weak winter sunlight.

"Did you miss me?"