In the Mall

[Arthur Kirkland]

Personally, Arthur hated malls. They were crowded, noisy, and everyone's uncontained children ran everywhere. The stores were overly flashy to attract unintelligent people who couldn't tell the different between a stitch that would hold, and a stitch that would rip in the first wash.

Arthur had his cat ears hidden firmly under a page-boy hat. His tail was tucked firmly and uncomfortably, down his right pant leg. Every time he took a step Arthur got an obvious "I'm uncomfortable" look on his face, yet he tried to pretend that not only was he comfortable, but he did not have any look on his face. Anyone who saw otherwise was clearly imagining things.

The reason he was hiding his "extra appendages" was because he was rather self conscious of them. His people didn't look like this, they were all "normal" they were all "human". It made Arthur look at himself more than twice in the mirror before going out. He also tried to talk with his lips tucked over his fangs, even though he sometimes ended up cutting them because of it.

Arthur was in the mall looking for clothing, because he was running out of ones that didn't have holes he'd patched, or ones he hadn't owned since the 30s. He lamented the time when clothes were made to last, instead of the crap they imported from China now-a-day. He stepped into the first male's clothing he could find which didn't have a giant poster of a half naked man on the front of it.

Honestly, how was that supposed to make men want to shop there?

After a short glance around the store, feeling more and more lost among the "new" and "shiny" clothing that was available, he started to look through a rack of clothes. Were shirts really supposed to be that tight? They looked like the wearer may suffocate! There was no way he would fit into these, and the last thing he wanted to do was buy something which was too big for him and look like he was trying to hide something.

[Alfred F. Jones]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,375,true] Sticking his tongue out slightly, America frowned. English malls were weird. They looked similar, but for some reason, he didn't feel at home. Probably because he wasn't. Raising a eyebrow at the child pointing at him, he swished his tail. It's like they never saw one of his kind before. They weren't really common in America either, but in England he felt a little self conscious. Well until the child grinned and waved at him. He waved back just as enthusiastically. Children were cool, those her father he suspected fixed him with a mild glare, it wasn't at his ears and tail. Nantucket swished back and forth as he looked around. This place wasn't nearly as big as his malls normally...but at least they were somewhat up to date. Alfred blinked. Did they have a Hot Topic here? Grinning slightly, he wondered if Iggy tried that stuff out. Him in leather and all that just wasn't clicking. “Hey!” Alfred blinked and looked down. Two children, a girl and a boy. The boy was older. He grinned. “Hey there.” The two kids brightened up and shined smiles. “You have a different accent!” The boy cried. “Where are you from?” The girl echoed his question, watching his tail. “America~” He answered happily. The two children blinked and looked at each other. “'Merica?” Alfred nodded. “Are all people from America like you?” This time the blond blinked. “You mean the ears and the tail? Nah. Some are normal. Though I think I look cuter~” The girl laughed and nodded, the boy pulling a amused frown. He looked like England with that face. He perked his ears up when he heard someone calling, and the children pouted. “That's our dad! Bye America-cat!” Alfred blinked before laughing. So that's what he was called? “Bye~” He waved back as they ran off, turning around when they were out of sight. He thought he saw England come through here. Sniffing the air he tilted his head. “Found him. Not many people smell like mothballs here.” Passing by the food court, he looked around the corner. He was just going into a store. ...And why was he dressed like that? Alfred rolled his eyes. It's not like people threw rocks at him. Walking closer to the store he raised a eyebrow. This...was not in Iggy's tastes. Unless he liked wearing outfits that were actually for twenty year olds. Chuckling he walked into the store, waving to a woman who smiled at him. “Yo! Iggy! You dressing like a normal person again? The old stores are on the other side of the mall.” He joked as he walked closer. “And why do you look like that? Isn't it uncomfortable?” Swishing his tail, he hopped a few more steps to England. Such a old man sometimes.

[Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur would have jumped out of his skin, but he had had a feeling that someone had been in the mall besides him. It came with being an "older nation" you got used to that little tingle when another nation stepped over your boarders. He turned around like he'd expected Alfred to be there... Typically, Alfred was the only one who "came over" that and that brother of his. What was his name again?

"What are you doing here?" He asked, more like demanded but he'd decided he'd used a nice tone of voice. "And why is it any of your business what I look like?" His tail twitched in annoyance, which caused a look of discomfort to come across his face. He tried to hide it by turning around again and sorting through a rack of clothes that he clearly would have never worn, as if he were seriously thinking of buying some of it.

"I just like wearing pants the proper way." He muttered, and reached up to rank his hat farther onto his head. He inhaled sharply at the discomfort it caused, but refused to acknowledge any discomfort or pain he was causing himself. He'd been living with it for a long time, he was used to be discomfort. He insisted he was used to it, because he didn't want to admit the weakness.

The first shirt he pulled of the rack made him cringe, and he put it back on roughly, so much so that it fell off the hanger. He cursed and bent down to pick it up, "I don't need to shop in the "old stores", Alfred, I can shop just fine for these... These clothes you call normal." Arthur muttered crossly, putting the shirt back on the hanger.

It was getting harder for him to deal with, the whole "old" comment. He wasn't sure why, but each time it was brought up, he became more upset. Every time he felt like he was being mocked. Like all those years he'd struggled and fought to get to this point meant nothing, because he was done now, he needed to be put out to pasture.

Arthur tossed a rather nasty glare in Alfred's direction. It was like Alfred was going to come along and take all of his power, and all of his achievements and sum them up in one word, and it wasn't greatness, or amazing, it was "old". Why did it have to be old?

[Alfred F. Jones]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,375,true] Alfred sighed quietly, knowing this was just going to be another fight between them. If England wasn't so prickly, they might get along. Probably his fault in some way, but Alfred didn't care. England was always like this. Ignorant and annoying in a way, but Alfred couldn't think of him any differently. Licking his lips slightly, he stared up at the sky lights his eyes dilating slightly. A hint of yellow was in them as he glared up into the light. Blinking, the yellow disappeared as he gave a grin and looked back down. He could feel something slipping across his legs, curling up for a moment before the notion completely disappeared. Tilting his head to the side, the dark grin flitted over his face for barely a nanosecond. Now where was England~? The store was definitely not in his tastes what so ever, unless he wore tight fitting 'clubbing' clothes. Rolling his eyes, he sighed as his tail swished. The people besides giving him a smile, didn't offer any other assistance. His curled ear twitched as he heard something derogatory about him, but besides a indifferent swish of his tail, no outer emotion besides blind 'happy' could be seen on the outside. “I'm here to see you Iggy.” Alfred pouted. “No need to be snippy.” He commented back using one of his pointed nails to thread a stray design rope around his finger. One flick and it would be cut in half by his nails. It wasn't play time though. Iggy was the reason he was here, and that was who he was paying attention too. Smiling innocently, not betraying one thought he blinked simply. “You look like you're uncomfortable. You have ears and a tail too. You shouldn't be hiding them. But you're just like that.” He was kind enough to keep his voice down, so not even the people in the next row of clothes a few feet away could hear him. With their ears, covered up or not, Iggy would be able to hear him. These clothes were just a distraction. Iggy wore what he liked to wear. This wasn't it. He was a empire at a time? The person who took care of him. Looking at those clothes sometimes he felt England was never going to move on those days. It didn't make him proud...it made Alfred feel old. He only called England what he didn't call himself. Arthur was too proud to move on. He would probably always see Alfred as a child. A wimp. Not strong enough to protect himself. It disgusted him. He was strong. He was stubborn enough to beat England at his own game. He was strong enough to help through all those wars. He was strong. Not old. Not young either. Strong. “Then these pants aren't for you Iggy, if you like to wear them properly.” He chuckled. “Low-rise leather jeans would fit me better than you. Then again, if you want go clubbing and get groped a little, be my guest.” He laughed playfully. His ears zeroing on a comment as he passed two girls practically edging away in neon away from them. 'He's cute, but why is he with that guy? Looks like he crawled out of the 50's.' He felt that presence he always did, curl around his legs and practically rip through any good sense around him. Of course Alfred himself never really noticed the evil feeling coming from whatever curled up around his legs. Probably one of Arthur's fairies or something. ...It felt kinda evil though. Not that he would tell England he even sensed anything. It was just a gut feeling. Someone here must be a criminal. Shoplifting? A sting in his leg distracted him, but he didn't look down. He just turned his attention to England. “I know you can shop here Artie.” He laughed. “Everyone can shop here, I mean you always look...” He paused. He's called him old off the bat, something else, but not mean. “more...refined?” A true look of curiosity passed over his face, as if he was confused if that was even the right answer. He hoped it was. “You look like...a educated man in his twenties...not a groupie who goes out to clubs. I remember. These aren't the clothes you wear.” He said more to himself, but he knew England could hear him. It was true anyways. The feeling went away from whatever the hell was around his feet, the criminal must have gone away. Oh well. “Iggy you look nice the way you do. Do you really feel the need to change your look?” He asked without bite at all, but complete truth as he walked down the long aisle looking at the tacky leather jacket. He remembered reading about a jacket with all those zippers. Something from a Stephen King novel. One of the characters. It had aliens in it.

[Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur sighed exasperatedly, looking at the clothes and glaring at them. He knew he'd worn leather when he went through that... That bloody punk phase. He wanted to look appropriate, or at least not like a dodgy old man? Secretly he missed the days of looking at himself in the mirror and thinking "Someone might actually look at me today" even though people in congress had rolled their eyes when he'd walked past.

"You're never here just to see me." Arthur grumbled, leaving the "you always want something from me" left hanging in the air unsaid. He may as well have said it though. All anything ever seemed to be around recently was wanting money money, fighting war, or to plan war. It never seemed like just a visit. It was probably just because it was only the bad things that Arthur noticed anymore, he never tried to say he'd done something right, unless it was about his past. He wasn't aware of it though.

There was no way Arthur was going to admit to feeling uncomfortable, he wanted to look like he wasn't uncomfortable. Alfred was supposed to be unable to read the atmosphere! If he could notice that Arthur was in pain, that meant a blind and deaf person could tell! Arthur huffed, sharply exhaling through his nose. "I'm not uncomfortable, I'm just fine." He insisted. He shook his head and glanced up to try and glare at Alfred, but he did not really feel like starting an argument, even though that's what he was doing.

There would be no doubt to anyone that the comment about his pants got Arthur's back up. Both emotionally and physically, his shoulders haunched and he tensed visibly. "I can wear anything I want to." He grumbled, and opened his mouth to say that he was going to prove it, but he heard the girls speak and his mouth snapped shut. He looked over to glare at the girls, though they were already turned away when he did so. He looked to Alfred, wanting to see his reaction, but the sudden feeling like something was very wrong fell upon his shoulders like a ton of concrete.

Arthur chewed on the inside of his lip, glaring at the ground as Alfred spoke. Why was it his choice what he wore and didn't wear? Why did his style have to look like something out of the 50's? He glanced up as Alfred began walking down the aisle and turned around to walk away, "I don't want to do this anymore." He grumbled, suddenly feeling that clothes shopping was much too stressful and he wanted to go home and have tea. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and haunched his shoulders, deliberately walking to the end of the aisle, and down the next rather than having to walk towards Alfred.

"I'm going home." He muttered, not loud, but he knew that Alfred would hear it. He knew he was running away from the situation, as well as not knowing how to handle anything nice Alfred had just said to him, he had actually been rather hurt by the girl's comments. His own children looked at him with scorn. He was clenching his teeth so hard they were practically creaking. His pace out of the store was brisk, and it was probably clear to everyone just how upset he was.

[Alfred F. Jones]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,375,true] Arthur was for some reason aggravating him more than normal. This constant snapping, he was obviously in a bad mood, and he was easily managing to piss America off. This wasn't normal, but for some reason just being here made him more aggravated at Arthur. A glint appeared in his eye as gold flickered over the blue before it disappeared. Couldn't Iggy see that he was coming over here because he wanted to. He felt something dig into his legs, snarling up at both of them, but he didn't even notice. He grit his teeth, digging his fingers into his hands, the claws easily breaking the skin. He was going to punch Iggy. He heard the unknown sentence, he might be dense, but when he hears what he thought most of the time, it was obvious. Those were the things he heard. Not the sadness in others when they told him to go away, it was 'go away' that pissed him off. The gold flickered over his eyes again before he blinked. “You're not uncomfortable?” He tilted his head. He thought for sure Arthur was uncomfortable. “Oh. Are you sick or something? You look like you want to kill someone.” He commented, obviously believing what Arthur said. Blinking at the other side of the store, he about winced at one of the outfits hanging up on the shelves. That leather outfit looked liked something out of a dominatrix store. That...was tight. “Of course you can wear whatever you want to.” He rolled his eyes slightly, that wasn't the point. England was completely missing the point that it wasn't his style. He remembered the man who taking care of him, was stubborn and never changed his style. There was a few ...odd years, but otherwise he always stayed the same. Shooting the girls a small narrowed eyed glance that promised pain if they continued, he erased it and smiled at England as soon as it came. Perking up his curled ears, they twitched as England muttered something about he didn't want to do something anymore. His tail swished as he watched England walk away. His tail swished in anger at being ignored but sighed hearing the man say he was leaving. Trotting behind him silently, he paused as Iggy left the store. He turned to the two girls that made the comments earlier, who were staring at them. Making sure England was far enough away, he walked to them calmly. “I don't appreciate you insulting my friend, ladies. It's rude.” One sneered and opened her mouth to say something. “If you do it again I'll make sure that with one punch I'll send you flying off a twenty story building.” He snarled, the girls freezing. “That man doesn't appreciate your comments either. He's quirky, but deal with it next time you open your mouth, the next psychopath might not be as nice.” He waved his tail as if he was shooing them away, before jogging to catch up to England. The things he did for the other blond were amazing. Alfred didn't even know whether to pity Iggy for always getting upset, or pity himself for putting his own self through England's awaiting insults. “Yo! Iggs! Wait up!” He whined.

[Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur was completely oblivious to Alfred's gold eyes, to him feeling something digging into his legs. He felt an odd, uncomfortable heaviness coming from the area around Alfred, and he wanted to run from it... Though that was most certainly not what he was running away from. He didn't want to look at these clothes and fool himself into thinking he could wear them. They may look good on him, but on an "old man" like him people would just laugh, or think him a fool.

It never seemed to occur to Arthur that he was capable of hurting Alfred. He didn't want to believe that he thought so, but he viewed Alfred as this impenetrable force, someone who couldn't be hurt, or be insulted. It never occurred to him that Alfred could feel hurt, or that he could cause it. He was so used to feeling pain, or hearing of pain, which Alfred caused. He never heard otherwise.

It was starting to feel like he was part shut in, not his country, just himself. He couldn't deal with the public. He felt like people were judging him, like people could see the lines on his face, which weren't actually visible. He shuddered, trying to forget what he felt like when people looked at him. He was already working to forget what the girls had said. He was purposefully trying not to think of anything, or hear anything, which is probably why he missed what Alfred said, though it was most definitely his loss.

Upon hearing Alfred calling for him, Arthur slowed down, thought not enough to really notice. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders, glaring over his shoulder at Alfred in a reproachful way, "Don't call me “Iggs”, it's bad enough that you give me those other awful nicknames." He barked, his voice sharp enough to cause other people to turn and see who was yelling at who. When all they could see was a man with ears, they simply tried to look like they hadn't been looking at all to begin with.

Arthur grumbled angrily as he pushed past people and out the doors of the mall, looking around the parking lot, glaring at all the cars as he realised he'd have to catch a train to get back to London. He glanced over his shoulder, and then chose to sit on a bench off to the side of the people exiting and entering the mall. He sat and rested his elbows on his knees, and lay his head in his hands.