Embarassment. [open]

There was a bit of awkward silence as Jazz let out a slight cough. She blinked and raised a dark brow, but said nothing more. She was slightly confused, weirded out, and above all, a little affronted by this... Exhibit A girl. Pink pants and a low cut shirt. How wonderful. She looked more fashionable then someone wearing a blue tee-shirt with an “S” slapped on it and plain skinny jeans with slip-on Vans that needed to be thrown out. She wasn’t too happy.

No – not at all; not at all.

Still, that stalker-side of her seemed to have seeped away when this guy... Er, Griffin, informed her about Brent’s eave for the bit. She was ver much saddened by it, but still, what could one girl do to make a boy stop and actually talk to her just to fit in? She was almost pathetic like Exhibit A. Eyeliner was her thing, after all. It made her blue almost bright instead of dull and made her feel more comfortable with her “emo-tastic” hair style. Maybe she needed a cut? A color? A perm? Something to make her less like... Exhibit A. Oh, how angry she was!

She wanted pink pants too!

Jazz fumed mentally to herself for a bit, her brows now knitted and her lips almost in a pout. She sighed heavily, and glanced around. “She’s certainly something, hmm?” She said, nodding towards that Exhibit A girl. Sure, she had the looks, the style right, but did she have the attitude? Well, maybe Jazz had the looks and the attitude right, but did she have the proper attitude of a truly emo-tastic girlie-girl?

She doubted it. With another heavy, exasperated sigh, Jazz twisted a piece of black hair in her fingers. She casted him a look of boredom and slight ignorance. “So, like, Griffin, do you ever get comments on your hot-ness?”

"Well, if her pants weren't so bright, it would look better. And if she covered up a little more. Maybe down-played the eyeliner, just enough to attract attention, without looking like a zombie." Griffin sighed and shook his head. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and took another glance at the girl who was slowly making her way out the front door. Slowly as in barely moving, peering at every article for safe on the way out. "What am I talking about? I sound like someone's mother over here. I guess if she dyes it to a point where it falls out, then I'll have some space to talk."

The next words she spoke were difficult for his sarcasm to break through. "Doubtful," he said at first. He shrugged, before taking up the acidic tone. "This isn't really my scene. And I can look like whatever I want to, hun. So it doesn't really phase me as important. If I'm too obsessed, I can just be whoever I want until I'm on my merry way." Griffin smirked, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the girl. If she hadn't figured out his gift for changing his appearance, he was going to have to walk away. After all, she had punched him for mimicking somebody else.

Griffin fell silent for a moment, but it was a short-lived moment. "I'd rather people-watch and be a critic than be out there socializing." He laughed a bit and waved his hand. "I'm not a big fan of the normal people perspective, it's too bland. But if I don't talk to anybody, nobody will hear my snarkastic remarks. I take great pride in them." He puffed his chest out slightly before laughing again and leaning back against the counter.

“Hey!” She reached over, punching him – carefully, of course – in the arm with a slight, loving giggle. “I like the brightness of her pants, dude. Just she in general makes me mad.” She flipped a piece of hair from her face and craned her neck to peer over her shoulder. Either she was now stalking Griffin, or just hoping to be noticed with her screaming pants. She turned to look at him and rolled her eyes, using her hands to express herself as usual.

“Honestly, zombies are cool. But yeah, I know what you mean. I mean, some guy asked me if I was going to some funeral one day, right, and I was like, ‘No’, and he was like, ‘I’m sure you’re not,’ and I was like, ‘I’m not.’” She quieted down during her last few words and sunk her head before blushing. “Sorry. I tend to blab a lot.” She paused and bit her lip. Jazz looked down at her feet, unsure of what to say next.

“So...” She was speaking in a near whisper at this point, gazing back up at Griffin. “You must be a Super... Like me. You know, must of us are hunted down anymore. The government is trying some sort of anti-Super genes to get rid our or gifts. Sad, huh?” she wasn’t sure how she knew that. Perhaps Athena was talking about it during one of there meetings, at which Jazz wasn’t paying much attention too. She was either oo busy preening her nails or sleeping.

As always.

He smirked faintly. For a second, he had wondered if Jazz was comparing herself to the other girl. The last reference, however, seemed to point the other direction. The girl had finally made her way out of the store, probably still disappointed that dear Brent was no longer in. "Maybe I'm a bit old-fashioned." Old-fashioned? How could he be with that silly outfit he wore sometimes, the yellow and maroon one he had custom-tailored to make sure morphed with him. After all, that pretty much included girl pants, the stretchy material was easy for combat.

"No big deal. I stopped paying attention to what I was saying a while ago. Then again, I don't make very good first impressions most of the time. No big deal." He glanced around as if about to disclose some important information and lowered his voice, similar to a teacher explaining something to a student. "You know, caring what other people think will only bring you down." There was a teasing undertone to his words, and he grinned sheepishly.

They were reaching a darker subject, that he wasn't fond of.

He frowned slightly, growing more serious for the moment. "I've heard a bit about that. People don't like the feeling that other people are superior, is my thought." He shrugged faintly. "They tried using a vaccine before. I think it worked, too, but it got destroyed or something. There's a lot of us out there, it's just that most of us are hiding. And most of them do a lot better job than I do." A slight smile had returned to his face. "Most of them aren't reminiscent about days when they ran around in capes. But if the public gets in a situation where they need Supers, they won't hesitate to call." He had never quite been in one of those circumstances, but they happened, and he'd heard stories. People needed protection, and sometimes normal people didn't quite cut it.

It was almost unnervingly wise, he realized, but he shrugged it off.

After all, there had to be some wisdom beneath that shaggy hair.

Jazz shifted uncomfortably before sliding off the counter and onto solid ground. She bit her lip, tensing up slightly at the thought of the needles digging into her skin just to make her normal. Just to make her less Super. The government had gone a little too far with this vaccine deal. At least, from what she could understand, the thing was destroyed. Perhaps by a villain who decided to keep him or herself Super? Or maybe even a hero who just wanted to keep him her herself the same, never to change just for the likes of some human being who despised their only true saviors.

She was suddenly angered by this.

Why in the world would anyone want their saviors gone, and instead use these normal heroes on death row, dying on their duty? Sure; some had believed they were dying for the likes of humanity. Still, they were dying to save those who sometimes don’t want to be saved. And JazzAnn was not at all pleased with this. She was fuming to herself, her knuckles whitening as her fingers rolled into a ball, a hefty fist.

Then she felt the blood trickle down. She hadn’t taken much notice to the red liquid until she looked down to the see the little speck of red on the flooring. She froze for a moment. She looked at her palm as her fingers spread, the slight fingernail marking dug into her skin. The blood was now forming a little pool in the middle of her palm, and she gasped. She hated blood. The smell. The sight. It was all too disgusting. She looked up at him.

“Can I have a band aid? Please?”

Griffin didn't realize the problem at first. In fact, he was confused by her request. His brow creased as he glanced over, and he frowned slightly. She seemed so angry and touchy about the subject, he almost felt guilty continuing with it. His face took on a look of concern and slight worry. He continued to frown and turned to face her, his tone slightly worried and hushed. It was almost like some sort of brotherly instinct kicking into gear, or perhaps something paternal. It was hard to pick out the specifics. "Hey, are you okay? It's alright. Nobody can make you do anything you don't want to..."

He bit his lip and wedged a hand into his hair. A band-aid? Surely they had some, just in case somebody needed one. He quickly glanced around, trying to search for a shelf beneath the cash register or something of that sort. He finally spotted a plastic basket on one, and pulled it out. He picked up two boxes of the product and set them on the counter beside Jazz. "Alright. Spongebob or Hello Kitty?" he asked, cracking a grin. He was slightly surprised at the options, but it wasn't his store, as much as Mina was allowing him to remain behind the counter.

"So. If you don't mind me asking. What all can you... do?" Griffin had tried to find a better way to ask the question, but what else could he say? If he was too loud and said something about superpowers, he'd get strange looks or people would be suspicious. Sure, Supers were on the news often enough, but there were rarely quality shots of faces. It was quite difficult to get good footage of Supers beating each other up and the like. Alas, he still didn't really know much about this girl, other than her name and the fact that she could pack a punch.

“SpongeBob... Please.”

She winced slightly, looking down at her palm. “I’m sorry, by the way. I’m not actually stupid... I mean, I’m a little dumb, but not like most girls. I try to be normal sometimes because I feel better that way.” She sighed and held out her palm towards him, the other hand upon her wrist. Her shoulders were hunched, and her lips were pursed in a painful way. Her eyes were showed a slight bit of fear as she began to speak again. “and I’m sorry about bringing up a subject we hate to talk about. But my uncle went through that procedure. He said it would be for the better. My mom disagreed and wasn’t too happy with him. But he didn’t care and took the vaccine. He was once Superman, and now, he’s nothing.” She sniffed lightly.

Oh, how she hated being so damn emotional all the time!

Jazz felt her eyes weld and a lump in her throat. “Im sorry. I’m an emotional wreck sometimes...” She hid her face in her elbow crease. Her shoulders heaved slightly as she cried. She didn’t want him to think of her as being some overly emotional girl. Her body was shaking a little as she moved closer to Griffin, her feet stumbling lightly as she neared him. Why was she crying? It was an emotional subject...

But she’s daughter of Supergirl!

Griffin obeyed, pulling a Spongebob band-aid out of the multi-colored box. He even pulled off the wrapper and sticky parts, before placing it on her hand. He quickly turned to place the cartons back in their proper place on the shelf, and then back to Jazz as she began to get rather upset. He remained silent through most of it, finding it a very inappropriate time to interject with immature jokes and sarcasm. After all, for several people, it could be a very touchy subject. He didn't know how he would possibly be able to survive if he lost his powers for any reason.

"It's alright. I think I understand. It's a big deal." The last two words were overemphasized, despite how obvious the statement was. He nodded slowly. "Some of the old Titans had it done, I think. Back when I was with them..." Griffin had a hard time remembering specifics, but most of them had gotten it done in order to save themselves and others. If you were a ticking time bomb and you couldn't control it, he assumed that it was a better choice. "Every one of us is a totally different person with powers than we would be without." He bit his lip, unsure what to do or say next.

Superman.

The word suddenly struck him. It explained the strength, he assumed. It also explained the shirt, he guessed. Not that he really knew how to react, and he wedged a hand in his hair for a moment. "I would give you a hug, but we barely know each other and it would probably be rather awkward." Griffin frowned slightly, and paused for quite some time. That brotherly instinct was still kicking in, especially now that she was crying. He forced his voice to remain as kind and low as possible. "Maybe we should get you out of here, okay? I know it doesn't sound like something to pay attention to, but I don't think being around all of these people will really make you feel better. Unless you don't want to. You can stay in here."

Jazz drew her hand back, grabbing hold of the tissue box and just barely dabbed her eyes. She wouldn’t want to look like an idiot walking out of the mall with blue and black draining down her face. She sniffed again, once more wiping her eyes. She tossed the Kleenex carelessly into the bin and looked up at him. She wasn’t quite smiling, yet she wasn’t exactly frowning. It seemed as if her eyes were twinkling yet again as she looked up at him. Her eyes were wide naturally, almost almond shaped. She rubbed her arm and looked at the left.

Then, towards the right.

She soon took a glance back up at him and nodded. “Yeah... Let’s get out of here before I cause a scene.” She had taken notice that few people were already watching. A mother had her son held close to him, acting as if she was a little crazy. The son, however, was giggling almost uncontrollably and pointed at JazzAnn, who had reverted her gaze back at Griffin. “Can we go to your place? I want away form he Titans a bit.”



ooc: blah. a short post again. D: sorry, i need my juices in ze brain pumping. D:

Griffin shot the kid a rather angered look, forcing himself not to use his abilities to make himself look utterly creepy or something of that sort. Sadly, the kid wasn't paying attention to him, but his mother was. He quickly frowned and shrugged back at them before looking at Jazz. "In a week, neither of them will remember this at all." His attempt to lighten the mood was accompanied by a goofy grin, which quickly vanished. He wedged his hand back into his hair, frowning slightly once more. "I'm sorry. That was... lame. And not very funny."

He nodded. "The only condition I have is that you aren't allowed to criticize how messy it is. Something came up the other day, and it's a mess because I haven't gotten around to solving the problem." Griffin wasn't about to admit that his apartment had gotten robbed. "The neighbors might stare, but I think they think I'm crazy." After all, he had gone and left certain valuables with specific people on his floor. His hand removed itself from his hair and filled in his pocket, double-checking to make sure his keys were there.

"And we have to walk. It isn't far. My car is... having some... problems."

Yet again, he wasn't about to admit that his awesome car had been stolen.

ooc;; Meh. I have no idea what to say.