NFG Season One - Coco's New Groove

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Description: Feeling a little outshined by Chevy's new threads, Coco turns to her own team's mentors to seek her own glow up. Well, one mentor in particular who has some very unique ideas about fashion. Oh and the intern gets dragged along too.

Constance Coalbridge has finally got what she wanted.

With the arrival of the (replacement) luxury trailer that she'd specified, positioned well out of any expected landing zone for thrown automobiles, and clearly demarcated so as to avoid being mistaken for something intended to be scrapped in the near future, as well as the installation of her furniture, a supply of some of her favourite foods, and even a working wifi connection, she can at last feel as though she's returned to civilization. She's even got a couple of weeks off from fighting in the New Fighting Generation, which is pleasant, because it gives her a chance to recover from a rather nasty injury to her outer thigh that was aggravated by a kick from the pig farmer during an impromptu mud wrestling match.

The only thing that's missing is her boyfriend. Who, despite all of his insistence that he is loyal to her, has opted, rather than spend the afternoon with her watching the latest episode of Strictly Come Dancing, to accept an invitation to go off and hang out with the members of Team Thunder, who, at last she checked, mostly hate all of her guts. Courteously, she decided not to invite herself along, as she was sure that Chevy's uncontrollable jealousy would have made for a terrible atmosphere. She's even declined to provide a curfew for the Irishman, as she's keen to demonstrate her independence and trust.

She's in the midst of cooking her tea (it's a British thing) as she swipes through images of the New Fighting Generation's participants on social media. Irritatingly, she's noticed that Hitter is trending with shots of Chevelle Beaumont in her new jeans and jacket, as well as pictures and clips of her fighting Hawksley in the muddy grounds of the Scrapyard. They're incredibly flattering. In fact, it looks like someone filming the fight caught a clip zooming in on the name 'Chevy' on the seat of Chevy's jeans as she was posing. Coco can't help but admit to herself that the camera bloody loves Chevy.

Meanwhile, her own wardrobe efforts have been rather in vain lately. The Team Frost kickboxing shorts and top combo she was provided by her sponsors were obliterated by Buck's dragon breath. Iris smashed her second Star Wars outfit to bits in the following fight. She's worn other things, but they weren't Coco the same way Chevy's new outfit is Chevy. So, what can she do about getting everyone talking about her outfits again instead of going gonzo for her archrival's newfound down-home glamour?

Coco sniffs the air as she smells something burning.

"Oh, fuck! Not again!"

She takes the boiling pot off of the active burner and places it on another, quickly scraping the bottom with a long spoon.

"Dammit! Who knew you could burn pasta?? It's underwater, for the love of God! Literally!"

Sighing as she deems that the pasta is 100 percent unsalvageable (as 10 percent is burnt to the bottom of the pan and 90 percent is perfectly fine), she dumps it all into a compost bin while quietly deciding that she might have to cancel her booking for Celebrity MasterChef.

She's going to need help with this fashion thing. After all, how is she supposed to define her new Coco look without copping somebody else's ideas? She's also been avoiding the idea of going to a restaurant, because she doesn't want to go on her own, since that always makes you look like a bit of a loser. Maybe she can sort out a way of killing two birds with one stone. Not that she would every try to kill any birds with stones; she's far too animal-friendly.

Out of all of the people on Team Frost staying at Abigail's, she thinks, who would she most trust the fashion sense of?

And so, a few minutes later, there's a knock on the door of Angel's trailer.

"Angel! Hiii! It's me, Coco! Are you busy? I thought you might want to go for tea!"

Angel's abode within Team Frost's make-shift base proves a simple matter to locate. A large RV camper, painted all in black save for the white silhouette of a female angel over the door, sits nestled near one of the towering walls of old tires and broken down cars that form the palisade surrounding this fortress of junk. Originally, her shiny new mobile home had been situated a bit closer to the center of Abigail's little slice of rusty heaven, believing it might prove to be a hub for whatever team building activities her new little ducklings might get up to. One display of wanton destruction later has seen her relocate to somewhere that seems less likely to result in her being randomly crushed by a moody giant. Though her camper did not face the same unfortunate fate as Coco's, why tempt fate?

And, considering that there has been a great deal less social gathering than she expected, the move to the front entrance has also proven to be a better vantage point for her to keep track of the comings and goings of every visitor to the junkyard. Which means she gets to be even more lazy than usual while still doing her job. Efficiency!

Truth be told, there hasn't been much for her to do during this whole shebang. With most of Frost's members proving elusive, she hasn't had much chance to analyze their fighting styles or keep an eye out for subtle signs of hidden power that might mark them as persons of interest to her megalomaniacal bosses. Hell, she's had more interaction with people from other teams than her own! It's almost like they're avoiding her or something...

But, that just means she has more free time to engage in her favorite activity - slacking off! Normally, that would involve a lot of bouncing between various night clubs to engage in reckless amounts of drinking, dancing, and casual sex. Unfortunately, even if there is nothing going on at the moment, she can't afford to dip out for long in case something /does/ happen. Somehow the nerds back at NESTS would be able to find out and snitch on her. They -always- do. Damn tech wizards. Which leaves her with precious few options for entertainment.

As such, when Coco approaches the bus-sized trailer and knocks on the door the muffled sounds of blaring music can be heard through the thin metal walls. It takes several seconds before she gets a response, possibly prompting a second knock, but eventually the door swings inwards with a sudden burst of motion. A disturbingly loud wave of sound comes crashing out of the newly opened portal, a buzzing beat of warbling electronika and auto-tuned female vocals. The noise washes over Coco like a physical wave of force, managing to briefly drown out the perpetual sounds of grinding metal and clanking machinery from Abigail's garage.

Replacing the shapely silhouette of the closed door, Angel herself now takes up the frame doing her best to put that silly painting to shame. Her usual attire of leather and boots has been discarded in favor of lazy comfort, the teen sporting nothing more than an oversized black t-shirt with the words 'Bad Bitch' stenciled in flowery neon pink on the front. Only barely long enough to cover her hips in the best case scenario, it utterly fails to keep the thin black thong she wears beneath it from flashing every couple of seconds as she undulates sensuously to the sound of the music.

"Don't stop, make it pop, DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I'ma fight 'til we see the sunlight
Tick tock on the clock, but the party don't stop, no
Oh, woah, woah, oh oh, woah, woah, oh~"

Angel sings along with the chorus, grinning mischievously at her first and only visitor thus far. She shimmies in place for a few seconds, moving her body with practiced ease, before reaching out to grab hold of Coco's arms and drag her bodily into the trailer.

As it turns out, Angel is ridiculously strong. While she doesn't squeeze hard enough to inflict pain on her unfortunate captive, trying to resist the 'invitation' into her trailer proves extremely difficult. Not that anyone would have a good reason to want to escape her clutches, right?

Assuming Coco doesn't freak out and go ballistic on her, Angel tries to entice the other teen into joining her in her dance session, grinding suggestively up against her for a moment or two. Whether or not the Brit chooses to indulge, Angel eventually slinks backwards over to a large stereo and turns the music down to something more reasonable for conducting a conversation.

"Well, hey there, cutie! To what do I owe the visit?"


The intern for Team Frost hasn't actually had much in the way of chances to make an appearance at the site chosen as a base for the team in Metro, between taking a short couple days worth of vacation back home before arriving, doing a bunch of chores for Juri directly and getting lost in actually getting pulled into some administrative busywork.

It doesn't help that the intern in question happens to be a bit on the paranoid side, currently. It's probably only expected, between knowingly putting himself into a situation where he will likely end up in Shadaloo's crosshairs *and* possibly unwittingly getting into the radar of a whole ass another ultra-powerful conspiracy by way of putting his nose into the troubles of a certain friend back home.

But, it's only inevitable that Daisuke Kubo would have to come to the scrapyard and try to meet the new team, before everything's over and done with. He was partly supposed to a human target for the neo-fighters in the first place along with all the other plans Juri had cooked up, to help gauge potential and... well, possible signs of psychic abilities. The latter had already been achieved, at least, so right now his duties probably are going to end up being largely making sure at least Coco is going to be okay and getting decent training in, since the *other* psychic Juri scouted out got stolen into a different team.

Still, being all-too-aware of the situation the japanese youth with *shockingly* red hair has gotten himself into, his walk through the streets of Metro are more on the wary side. He might not peek around nervously a lot, but he does look in *other* ways. The side-effect of all the training that has been provided to the lot here has been his own psychic abilities developing. In particular, his senses. He feels much more comfortable in crowded areas now, and he can actually form a short-range psychic radar of sorts without causing a massive headache and a profuse nosebleed, too. The latter in particular he makes use of on his way to the scrapyard, in an effort to try to gauge if anyone is following or spying on him.

Not just potential muggers, but people much more dangerous than that. Not that muggers might have that much interest in a guy walking so purposefully towards Abigail's place with... a big bag of groceries.

Yes. Groceries. The warehouse in Sunshine City did not have any kind of kitchen, so he never got to indulge in his favorite pasttime back there. The equipment he might have available at the scrapyard might... not be that much better, honestly. Unless he is given access to one of the higher-end trailers, but he's not inclined to try and ask for permission there. The office probably has at least a basic stove of some kind, so...

That all being said, the young redhead in his white-and-black jersey jacket arrives at the gate just in time to hear the ear-blasting blare of music coming out of that mysterious trailer just on the other side. At least he's far enough *there* that he doesn't risk getting his eardrums blown out, but he does frown with visible confusion over it. Confusion that only rises when he, upon slipping through, spots Coco at the door to that very same noise-blasting trailer.

And witnesses her getting yanked inside by *something*.

"...Oh shi--"

All the building paranoia and nerves come to their apex in that moment. The fat bag of groceries hits the ground as Daisuke himself goes running, sprinting for the trailer in a hurry. He doesn't actually know anything about that trailer. He hasn't met the new sponsors associated with that team. All he knows is he saw, for all he knows, one of the Frost team members getting forcefully pulled inside.

He's tensed up. Nearly panicking. Still enough that he is subconsciously focusing some of the Psycho Power inside him already on the way. Not enough to make his eyes glow, but enough to send it out if he really has to.


The yell comes right as he stomps onto the doorway into the trailer, pushing one hand against the doorframe to temporarily halt his momentum so he can get at least a look inside before fully charging in--

And he sees... uh...


Daisuke doesn't get any *less* nervous, to be fair. But the nerves hit him for entirely different reasons. The kind that makes his cheeks flare a sudden, bright red.

"..........S-s-sorry for intruding," the redhead eventually stutters out, in a much-less-urgent tone, and sheepishly tries to lean himself right back out and away from the door again.

It's true that Coco has been especially elusive during this escapade, not because she's socially averse or a non-team-player, but because... well, it's a junkyard. She's Constance Coalbridge. She hasn't built up the same tolerance for noise and detritus that poor people have. And her trailer was crushed! All that gave her an excuse to be elsewhere. Elsewhere being mostly a certain Team Blaze fighter's apartment.

The sound of music blasting out of Angel's personal trailer makes Coco feel a slow sense of reassurance that she has, in fact, made the right choice. Are they allowed to be pumping music like that here in the headquarters? Why hasn't she thought of that? It reminds her of her own favourite pastime on holiday of going out to night clubs to engage in reckless amounts of drinking, dancing, and casually being otherwise well-behaved*.

When the door opens to reveal the shapely form of Angel in t-shirt and undies grooving to the tunes, Coco has one of those moments where you stop and stare and look really stupid because you're too busy thinking that possibly you've just found your soulmate to react otherwise. For her part, she's wearing a white babydoll tank, denim cutoffs and white mules, an outfit that she never thought she'd feel overdressed in (it's only worth about five hundred pounds after all), but suddenly does as she's pulled into a private dance party with Angel.

"Oh, okay!"

It's not at all the first time she's been drawn into club dancing with another scantily-clad girl, as is clear from her ability to match Angel's movements, but it's the first time that it's happened while she's been sober and her partner was kind of maybe her boss?

She's certainly left feeling a bit conflicted when Angel steps away to turn the music down.

Meanwhile, outside the trailer, a small-ish mammal that is not a junkyard dog or a raccoon slinks out of the shade of Coco's trailer at the sound of groceries hitting the deck. Soon, Captain Morgan the binturong, wearing a Metro City baseball cap, scrambles across the dirt to start sniffing around in the fallen bag. No fruit is safe.

Back in the trailer...

"Oh, um, yeah! This is lovely! Umm, I was going to ask, have you -"

It's about this moment that Coco turns to catch sight of the redhead that Juri introduced her to back in Sunshine City peeking through the door, face slowly starting to match his hair.

"Oh, hi, Daisuke! I was just in here to ask Angel for, umm..."

She turns her eyes back to the 'Bad Bitch' t-shirt (and not much else) that Angel is dressed in before regretfully finishing, " advice."

Not that she regrets her choice. More that there's something slightly awkward about admitting it now.

"Oh, and if she wanted to go for some tea! I mean, I would offer to cook, but my oven's a bit uncooperative."

* Let's be honest, she's no Angel, but she's no angel either.

No panicking! That's a good sign. Most of the time when she tries to get the other NESTS agents or, god forbid, one of the lab nerds to do something fun with her all she gets is awkward stares or wild flailing. This particular team is already an improvement on her usual co-workers.

As for whether or not it's kosher to be blasting music loud enough to hear from the next closest zip code, Angel doesn't much care. Not like Abigail has any stones to throw when it comes to noise pollution. And since no one else has come along to complain about it either she's got little reason not to indulge in her juvenile pastimes!

And speaking of juveniles, a second young person soon invites themselves into her trailer! Goodness, she spends weeks all by her lonesome only to get bombarded with visitors all at once. If she knew she was going to be this popular today she might have worn pants. Probably not, but you never know!

"Wow, aren't I the popular one today, nya."

With a brief display of her unnatural speed, Angel's body becomes a black and tanned blur of pastel colors as she translocates from the middle of her trailer to the exit in the blink of an eye. Now standing firmly in the doorway and consequently directly in Daisuke's path, she props her elbow up against the frame and leans her head on her hand in a posture that does wonders to put her amazing figure on display.

"What, you think can just pop in and get an eyeful then bail?" she asks playfully, fluttering her eyelashes from behind her loose bangs. "But you haven't even introduced yourself."

Leaving it up to the poor red-head's reflexes on whether or not he can realize she's standing in his way before plowing face first into her half-exposed cleavage - a fun party game that everyone with super speed should try - Angel turns her attention back to her original visitor. Her gaze sweeps Coco from head to toe in a quick once over, eyebrow quirking with amusement at the idea of being consulted on fashion advice. This has got to be a first.

"I'll be honest, chica, you already look like you have things under control on the fashion front. Mmm, the baby doll's a little too 'girl next door' for my taste though. But I'm always happy to share some girl time!"

Daisuke does try. He really does try to just quickly spin around and make his way out before any further questions can be asked, or heaven forbid, he gets punished for intruding on... whatever it is the two girls were getting up to.

Angel apparently has other ideas, though. She's definitely fast enough that Daisuke doesn't even manage to see her *start* to move in the briefest span of time that is left between his eyes being on her and Coco, and his gaze turning to the door. It's enough time for him to not realize that the woman has already turned there to block him off.

And of course that means he ends up colliding face-first with her. At least there's plenty of cushion there to soften the blow to his face, even if it does leave him letting out a rather shocked sound of "Mfffpph?!" that muffles against Angel's chest before he rather comically bounces off with a face that now somehow manages to be even redder than his hair.

"Gah I'm sorry I didn't mean to--!!"

The panicked words of apology come almost on a hair trigger as he stumbles back to retreat several steps, his hands waving in front of him in a defensive display of protest. Though his quick retreat probably means he ends up smacking a bit painfully against the far wall left behind him with a sharp *oof* slipping from his lungs when the physical sensation comes to remind him he has only so much room to maneuver. Or, you know, against whatever.

This is not how he expected his day to go either way. Whatever the case is, the poor redhead probably isn't in any place to question things any further than that, much less try to chime in on the subject of... what are they talking about, exactly? Fashion? No, Daisuke definitely does not try to look at *either* of the girls right now in order to provide his own opinion. Trying his damned best, instead, to not look in the general direction of *either* in an effort to avoid further accusations of peeping.

Coco is also caught off-guard by the sudden blur of movement, having just been about to turn her head back to Angel to say something (even if she's not quite sure what) when she's suddenly on the other side of the door. She turns around just in time to witness Daisuke crashing face-first into Angel like a disoriented puppy. It is perhaps only this momentary mental comparison that gives Coco the grace to helpfully step into the red-haired lad's path and catch him before he can run smack into the wall. Of course, given his greater height and size, this necessitates her grabbing hold of him just for a moment. Which might seem like trapping him there against his will as if she's in on whatever mischief Angel is planning.

But it's not! She's just being helpful, because she loves puppies.

"Oh, I know, I mean, I'm pretty good at normal people fashion," she carries her conversation with Angel on by standing on her tippy-toes and poking her head over Daisuke's shoulder. "But I'm only sort of on the cusp of, you know, fighter fashion, which I know you're really good at. And my last outfit for Team Frost got set on fire, and some of the other fighters are getting outfits from their teams, like for example I heard that Chevy's team got Shermie to make her an outfit, and I sort of thought, you know, I'd love to -" Blow her out of the water? Shove her nose in it? "- show off my individuality and team spirit."

Even she realizes she's contradicting herself a bit there. Her idea of her own individuality here would be 'cool and sexy like Angel,' after all, and individuality and team spirit? Why does she feel so nervous, anyway? Oh, right, maybe it has something to do with being an empath and holding an incredibly nervous puppy - I mean, teenage boy - in her arms. She quickly addresses that by letting go of Daisuke and stepping around him, folding her hands behind her back and scuffing her feet like a little girl.

"But, umm, yay! Girl time! And, this is Daisuke, by the way. I don't think he's mentioned that yet. He's Juri's intern, which I think means we can boss him around."

Whether that's meant to be a joke or serious isn't clear from her tone.

The quirky teenager's expression shifts into a mischievous smirk as the victim of her playful trick walks right into her literal booby trap. It never fails to amuse her just how fluttered people get over that sort of thing. Granted, her target is a teenage boy who, judging by his reaction, has never seen a tit much less touched one. So, not exactly a difficult mark, but an entertaining one nonetheless.

Sadly, Coco proves to be too much of a softie for her to really work her sexy magic on the hapless Daisuke. Another minute or two and she'd probably have him curled up in a ball on the floor whimpering. Alas, she will just have to torture him subtly by refusing to get dressed. Not that her usual attire is any less revealing. In fact, she's probably covering more skin right now than most days, ironically.

Crossing her arms beneath her chest, Angel shifts her sexy recline against the door frame into a more casual lean as Coco explains her motives for the visit. Were she someone to take offense at things being subtly excluded from the group of 'normal people' by that remark might have annoyed her. But Angel knows full well what she is and normal isn't it. Besides, it's her unique quirkiness that set this young grasshopper upon her journey to seek out the master of personalized fashion. As an appointed mentor, what else can she do but offer up her expertise to her precious little duckling?


Team uniforms? What a horrible travesty that would be. But, perhaps working from a similar theme to create something unique to each person could be interesting. Either way, it's not like anyone else has come knocking on her door to ask for fashion tips so Coco is probably safe from the embarrassment of showing up to a party wearing the same thing as someone else. Judging by the rest of Team Frost's typical attire, she's probably the only person crazy enough to even dare asking Angel for wardrobe advice any ways.

The teen's predatory smile shifts into a dopey lopsided grin as she regards Coco with a knowing expression. It's pretty obvious that the girl is looking to impress -someone-. She's obviously already good enough at dressing herself in a way that emphasizes her natural attractiveness. So she must be looking for something a little... special. And there's usually only two reasons for a girl to want to gussy up. Either she's trying to catch a special someone's attention or there's another girl she wants to outshine. Or it could be both. There's been plenty of juicy gossip going around about a rivalry between a certain few individuals.

"I see, I see. Well, don't you worry, girl! We'll get you sorted."

That lazy gaze shifts back to Daisuke once proper introductions are made.

"Intern, eh?"

Her grey eyes sparkle with fresh mischief as an idea strikes her. Pushing away from the door, Angel stalks over to stand in front of Daisuke and bends forward to peer at him. A completely unnecessary move since he's a couple inches taller than her but one which, by some complete accident no doubt, gives him a clear view down the front of her loose t-shirt.

"Congrats, kid! You just won the intern lottery. Because today, you get to help two sexy ladies figure out a new outfit!"

Daisuke is at least a little grateful to Coco, to be fair, for supporting him in his sudden retreat. Though at the same time he probably does feel a little akward over the notion of more or less getting caught between two girls, even if Coco herself might not mean it as such.

That being said though, once he's been settled, he does retreat towards a wall more on purpose after the fact, so he can lean his back there. Try to stay out of the way of whatever these two are planning, see? That's the idea, anyway.

"Team Frost's Intern," he does end up mumbling to correct Coco, however, when she offers his introduction for him. "Um, it's true Juri's the one who hired me first though, but I'm working for the team as a whole..."

He is probably going to regret making that clarification, though. Very quickly, for that matter.

While he *is* still trying his damnest to avoid directly looking at either of the two women, it's hard not to get your attention drawn when Angel comes sauntering straight towards you. And bending over like that, for that matter.

No matter how hard he tries, Daisuke *is* still a teenaged boy, even if he is in the twilight years of his teenaged era. His eyes slip *dangerously* low when she bends over. Just for two seconds. Still long enough for the poor boy's face to start burning up with such intensity there might be a very real danger of the fire alarm in the trailer going off.

"H-h-h-huh?" He stutters out once he has been given his assignment, all the while very deliberately looking *away* from Angel and the dangerous trap of her loose shirt. He can't quite lean away though, since he backed himself up against a wall like that earlier.

"I, er-- I don't really... know anything about, like... fashion and stuff, so I'm not sure how much help I will be, aheh..."

There's something about Angel's unrepressed nature that speaks volumes to Coco. It's as if she's a spiritual seeker in the presence of a priestess. The sponsor hardly has to say anything; she just oozes the liberated sort of 'I'm here, deal with it ;)' comfort with self-identity that Coco's spent so much of her past year chasing and only just started to fully understand thanks to Juri's serendipitous kidnapping. Between Juri and Angel as sponsors, she's clearly found herself in good hands. It practically makes up for the fact that her other sponsor destroyed her trailer.

Her lips quirk upwards at the corners as Angel agrees to help her. She even gives a little jump and clap, though the accompanying squeal of delight is caught by closed lips before it can escape.

"Awesome! I know it'll be brilliant!"

She gives a nod toward Daisuke as he points out that he works for Team Frost.

"See? He's clearly our subordinate. Not that we would ever abuse such a privilege, of course."

She's learned her lesson after proving so efficacious in exercising the entitled authoritarian wroth that wealthy Brits train in that she drove a series of domestic servants out of her parents' employ. They're still paying for the last one's therapy sessions three years later.

"So, where shall we begin? How do you go about your costume shopping? Do you use a website, or a designer, or is it more of a do-it-yourself sort of thing?" she asks Angel. She's much more comfortable with (mostly) ignoring the view of Angel from the side she's standing as the white-haired teen bends low in front of Daisuke than the Japanese youth is with ignoring his. At least in terms of apparently being able to carry on her line of questioning. "Not that I was meaning to totally cop your style or anything."

The sight of Daisuke reacting to Angel does have her inwardly considering whether it would be possible to get a certain Irishman as flustered if she could nail a look to the right degree.

"Don't worry, darling, I'm sure you could make a valuable contribution."

If nothing else, there might be fetching or carrying or something to be done. She's still learning the process.

Angel remains bent forward for just long enough to drive the poor lad into a stuttering mess, smirking all the while. She made him look, score another one for male hormones. And don't think she didn't spot Coco back there stealing glances either! Few can resist Angel's allure.

His protest about being useless when it comes to fashion earns Daisuke a sidelong glance as she straightens up, one snowy eyebrow quirking upwards. Though she says nothing, the quick look she gives his drab outfit practically screams 'no duh' in response.

"Guessin' you've never had a girlfriend. Kinda surprised Juri never dragged you out on a shopping trip."

he girl lifts one hand and extends her pointer finger, pressing it into the tip of Daisuke's nose. She wiggles the soft fleshy protrusion back and forth, somehow managing to make something as silly as that look suggestive.

"You aren't coming along to give advice. Your job is to carry things and stare at our butts while we try on skimpy outfits. Think you can manage that?"

The last question is clearly rhetorical. He doesn't get a choice in this matter. Such is the price you pay for tangling yourself in the affairs of a girl like Angel.

Without waiting for a response, she pivots in place to face Coco again, the movement fast enough to send the already scandalously short hem of her t-shirt flaring outwards like a ballerina's dress for a few seconds. Just a taste of what is to come.

The Brit's obvious enthusiasm brings a genuine smile to her face. But it fades a moment later to be replaced with faux shock at the very idea that she would use some sort of established designer to create her unique look. Placing a hand on her heart, she staggers and pretends to swoon.

"Nya! To be so viciously attacked, by my own cute little student!"

Taking a few dramatic steps backwards, Angel tumbles onto a small sofa pressed against the back wall. She recovers a moment later and makes herself comfortable, flopping out on her side. The curtain of loose bangs drifts over one half of her face without any input from her and she casually settles into the cushions in a way that seems to draw attention to her long legs, her natural state seeming to gravitate towards being distressingly attractive at all times.

"Nah, girl, everything you see is something I decided on myself. That's the most important thing you gotta consider. Doesn't matter how fancy your clothes are or what designer label someone paid to have stitched onto the pocket. If you aren't feelin' it, people will notice."

A confident smirk spreads across her face and she gestures at herself, lazily flopping one hand from the top of her head towards her feet.

"All this? One hundred percent Angel. And people know it because I -own- it. Because I don't care what anyone else thinks. I'm gonna be me and anyone who doesn't like it can kiss my ass! Well, they can dream about kissing my ass, nya~."

With her outstretched hand Angel curls her fingers into a mimicry of a cat pawing at the air, sticking her tongue out playfully with a wink at her own joke.

"No shame in taking inspiration, though! You look like you'd pull off a pair of chaps pretty well, girl. But - there's only one Angel, cutie. So don't go tryin' to be me. Just be yourself, whatever that is. That's what we're gonna go figure out."

Daisuke actually *frowns* at Angel. He doesn't really protest the part about never having a girlfriend, but he does go on to try and correct some other assumption he thinks the woman might have had.

"Me and Juri aren't like--"

Well, it's about all he manages to get out before he finds an intrusive finger pressing at his nose. It was probably enough to get the message across, at least, but the unfortunate redhead does end up letting out a rather unbecoming (or adorable, depending on how you want to look at it) squeak while his eyes scrunch shut with the feeling of the pressurer.

As for what he's going to do? He damn near sputters again, and if there was any chance of his uncontrolled blush letting up anytime soon, it's all gone now.

"I'm not gonna stare at your-- uh. Butts. But, er... I guess I can... carry stuff, at least..."

What was going to be another protest at first just turns into a defeated acceptance of his fate. He *is* the intern, afterall. If anyone asked the NFG officials, they'd just shrug their shoulders and tell him it was what he was getting into. Ask Juri, and... well. SHe'd probably laugh her ass off, let's be honest here.

Speaking of which, though, the unfortunate motion that Angel uses to turn around damn near causes another heart-attack, and another surge of blush that actually seems to physically knock Daisuke back a little. The poor guy, being in a position many people would probably kill for to get into.

Coco declines to comment on whether Daisuke may or may not have ever had a girlfriend. She's already subconsciously placed him in a certain category after the red-haired boy showed up at the Rainbow Club cosplaying as the singer from Erasure and makes no judgments on anything other than the fashion being a bit too retro for her liking. She does give a supportive thumb-up in case Daisuke looks her way for confirmation when Angel lays out the plan of butt-staring and stuff-carrying, and keeps her eyes level with Angel's face as she ballerinas back around to face her.

Her eyes go wide when she's accused of viciously attacking the white-haired girl, though.

"Oh! Sorry! It wasn't supposed to be an attack! If anything it was sort of supposed to be a compliment?"

She relaxes a little when Angel's dramatics give way to her advice about feeling what you wear. It's straightforward enough, even if it flies in the face of the conventions that her parents - especially her mother - would follow as titans of mainstream textiles and fashion. That's probably why it rings true, to be fair. Not caring about what people think has traditionally been a trickier ask for her, if only because, as she's recently discovered, she's psychically prone to absorbing the reactions she causes in other people with her actions and appearance, whether positive or negative. She's only just begun to acquire a taste for evoking strong reactions of both varieties after the wave of shock she'd sent through onlookers by delivering a kick to Chevy's ribs while she'd been down. This also seems to align with Juri's agenda of making the nascent empath develop her own sense of identity. If she's going to really express herself, she can't care what her parents, or anyone else, thinks.

Except maybe Hawksley.

"Yes, exactly," she agrees, nodding along with Angel. "That's precisely the sort of vibe I want to put out there. 'If you don't like it, you may kiss my arse. Cordially, Constance Coalbridge.'"

She loops her arms behind her head and smiles at the comment from Angel about taking inspiration and chaps - "Aww, ta, babes -" - and manages to avoid letting it dim as she crosses 'assless chaps?' off of her mental shopping list. "Of course, I wouldn't dream of nicking your chaps."

She glances sidelong at Daisuke as she continues to rest her head against her arms.

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to stare at each others' bottoms, then?" she posits casually, lifting her shoulders slightly. All thoughts of food are dispelled, at least for the moment. "So, where to? I suppose you'll probably be wanting to put something on if we're going out shopping?" she says, eyes flitting toward Angel, and, trying not to sound judgmental, she adds, "In case you catch cold, or something."

Angel, unlike most people, has what might be considered a dangerous level of apathy towards public perception of her antics. That danger stems not so much from the Average Joe, who might see how she dresses and get funny ideas - the number of people who can actually pose a threat to the villainous super soldier is pretty slim, after all - but from the fact that her lackadaisical attitude extends even to her work ethic. When your bosses are a bunch of homicidal megalomaniacs who share views on failure along the same veins as Darth Vader and your average Bond villain, 'carefree' seems like a fairly unhealthy long term life strategy.

And yet, despite years of dodging the proverbial bullet of 'recycling' that has befallen many of her former comrades, she's still here and still without a care. It's not something that she thinks about all that much. After all, you can't be care free if you care! It's very zen and stuff. Enlightenment through hedonism or something like that. That or she's just insanely lucky.

Daisuke's claim to be able to resist the allure of two beautiful women in various states of undress earns him a skeptical look. She already reeled him in once and she had to do was bend forward a little bit. The odds of him passing the Eye Tracker Challenge in the coming few hours is roughly equivalent to her odds of ever earning a promotion - technically within the realm of possibility but she wouldn't bet anything important on it.

Coco offers a solution of her own which garners an impish smirk from the reclining mentor.

"Knew I was gonna like you, girl."

But, that's enough fooling around. They've shopping to do!

Angel rubs her chin thoughtfully, trying to remember if she came across any promising venues on her trip down. To be honest, Metro City looked more or less like any other metropolis she's been to. Lots of tall buildings and a million signs plastered over every surface but nothing that really stood out at a glance. Oh well, there's sure to be a giant mall or two for them to cruise.

At the suggestion she put on clothes, Angel leans back and kips up to her feet. Turning as if to head towards the door at the back of the RV, she pauses long enough to peer over her shoulder at Coco with a playful smirk. Her hips cock to one side, a hand resting against her waist as the t-shirt rides up a couple of inches with the movement.

"Will I? Making a pretty big assumption there, cutie." She places undue emphasis on the first syllable of 'assumption'. "But your concern is touching."

With a wink, she vanishes into the bedroom and sets about putting on something that's a bit less likely to get her arrested for public indecency. America is pretty laid-back when it comes to showing skin but literally wandering around in a thong is probably pushing the envelope a bit. Plus, Daisuke is likely to die of an aneurysm if she keeps teasing him this hard and that would tragically rob them of a convenient gopher to carry around all their stuff.

It takes her less than a minute to make the change. One of the benefits of not wearing much at all. When she emerges into the open once more, Angel is clad from neck to heel in a black leather catsuit along with her bomber jacket and a pair of knee-high biker boots. The form-fitting outfit leaves very little to the imagination and the zipper running down it's front is pulled up just to the bottom of her ample cleavage making sure that even less imagination is required.

Now all that remains is to figure out the logistics of their transportation. Her bike is probably big enough to carry all three of them but it'd be an awkward and dangerous way to go. Fortunately, they're currently shacked up in the middle of the biggest hoarder lair of all time. Abigail probably has at least a few old side-seats she could hook up to her hog lying around.

"Well, I've only been here a couple times so I'm not super familiar with any particular shops," she says, flicking a pair of sunshades open and sliding them onto her face. "But we can cruise into town and find us a mall, should be able to get something you can work with there. First thing first, however, unless one of you has some wheels we'll need to go scavenger hunting in this dump to find a passenger seat for my bike."

Daisuke, as might be expected, does not actually have much ot offer for either of the women even after he has recovered from his near-hear-attack that Angel... well, being Angel, damn near caused in him. He's the intern, he's mostly there to speak when spoken to and carry stuff for people, and stuff!

Though he does give a suspicious look at Angel, again, in mirroring the bemused look she seems to be sending *him*. And this, in turn, actually brings him to ask, "...W-what?" with an entirely uncertain and vaguely embarrassed tone.

He breaks his own silence again when Angel dips out of sight to get herself changed, asking outright of Coco, "Did you expect her to be like... *this*, before you came in here...?"

And onc the white-haired woman is back in view again, in the outfit that *somehow* actually succeeds at being more scandalous and revealing than what she was wearing when her private time was intruded on, Daisuke... well. He very pointedly keeps his gaze *away* from her. Almost like he is trying his goddamnest to succeed in the Eye Tracker Challenge out of sheer stubbornness. Or spite. Take your pick.

"Well, while you're figuring that out, I guess I should... go make sure the stuff I brought along is put away..." The redhead mutters, taking the freedom at this point to pad his way out of the trailer, and go track down the grocery bag he dropped on the ground in his hurry. The grocery bag he left just over there, and... currently getting raided by a binturong.

"HEY?! NO! BAD!!"

*That* gets the young man fucking *bolting*. All in the name of defending the groceries he had painstakingly brought with him to be equally painstakingly turned into food for the Team.

Coco beams with delight as Angel praises her, even if it's for a comment she may not have thought through entirely before (or, for that matter, after) she made it. Obviously she meant for fashion advisory purposes!

As Angel disappears and Daisuke addresses her directly, Coco is broken free from her speechless state. Turning to face him, she smiles brightly.

"I know! She's so awesome, isn't she? She's even cooler than I expected!"

Apparently Coco had some idea of what her sponsor was like and has only been surprised in the sense of having her expectations fulfilled to an unexpected degree. The fact that the posh purple-haired Brit finds the eccentric Mexican beauty aspirational may warn of a future where this scenario gets worse for the beleaguered boy.

When Angel emerges again, Coco finds herself staring for just a moment, mentally adding 'leather catsuit?' to her shopping list, then remorsefully striking it off when she remembers that she's supposed to be thinking of her own style for this thing and not just stealing Angel's.

"Oh, well, maybe we can get some of Abigail's workers to find a seat for us if we tip them nicely," Coco suggests as she reaches into her shorts pocket and pulls out a small stack of fifty dollar bills, ruffling them thoughtfully as she considers the price of shifting the hard work to the proletariat.

She's interrupted from her calculations by the sound of Daisuke shouting outside the trailer. Surely he's addressing one of those naughty junkyard mutts lurking about the place? Or, if not one of the Mad Gear members, one of the dogs? But just to be certain, she stops counting fifties and pops out of Angel's home.

And then she sees Daisuke running toward her bearcat.

That gets /her/ flipping bolting.

"Wait! Stop! Don't use such harsh language with Morgie, he's very sensitive!"

Captain Morgan has, at this point, already had the chance to devour any berries, grapes, or nuts that Daisuke may have been intending for culinary development, and probably a few satsumas or apples to boot. In the absence of those, he's not especially picky. He's also apparently not bothered by Daisuke's language, but he does, upon realising he's being chased, immediately scamper away to clamber up the side of Coco's trailer and perch on top of it, which might have been the end of it if he hadn't got the straps of the grocery bag hooked around his prehensile tail and thus carried what's left of the food onto the roof with him, from which vantage the bearcat starts growling territorially.

"Aww, how adorbs," Coco says, clasping her hands together. "It's okay Morgie! Just drop the rest of the groceries and we'll order some more online! You know mummy already has plenty of treats for you in the camper!"

As the bearcat makes eye contact with Coco, somehow, the message seems to get across; Morgie relaxes visibly, then lets the groceries drop to the ground. Hopefully there weren't too many eggs in there.

"There you are," Coco chirps helpfully to Daisuke, before turning to shout over the din of the scrapworks:

"Now, who wants some money?"

If Angel gets any particular pleasure out of the obvious slackjawed stares that her new attire draws she doesn't let it show, save for a brief pause to let them both soak it in while a faint knowing smile plays across her face. She's gotten pretty used to that kind of reaction at this point.

However, it's the Mexican teen's turn to get a little goggle-eyed when Coco starts casually waving around a fat stack of bills. She's seen large amounts of money before, of course, even handled it herself. But that was always NESTS's funds that she was transporting for some nefarious purpose and none of that ever ended up in her own pocket. It isn't like she's poor or anything and the organization always made sure she was well funded for whatever mission she was dispatched on but she's never been well off enough to flash around that kind of cash casually.

"Damn, girl, you show one of these grease monkeys a stack like that and they'll probably build us a new car."

Lazy as she is, Angel's more than used to having to deal with her own problems. She was quite happy to go do a little dumpster diving herself but who is she to argue if her little protege wants to foot the bill? Abigail's goons will probably know where to find what she's looking for faster anyways.

Trailing out of the RV on Coco's bougie heels, Angel observes the brief showdown between man and... is that a racoon? Huh, weird thing to keep as a pet. She's not sure how well a trash panda is going to handle going for a ride on a motorcycle so hopefully it'll be happy to remain behind.

At the mention of money, Angel's gaze sweeps around carefully, almost certain that the big man himself will come busting through one of the towering junk piles like a roided up Koolaid Man. He seems to take his entrepreneurial spirit very seriously. After a few tense seconds of eerie silence, however, she relaxes and leans back against her trailer. Now to see which of the mooks decides to capitalize on this opportunity.

Turns out, there isn't an immediate stampede to take Coco up on her offer. It actually takes several seconds for anyone to respond and when they do it's in the form of a bald middle-aged mechanic wearing nothing but a pair of dirty overalls over a well-toned barrel of a torso. Wiping at a pair of grease-stained hands with an even greasier rag, the fellow wanders over towards the Brit at a casual gait, coming to a stop within conversational distance.

"Somethin' ya need, missy?"

The man's voice is gruff but not aggressive, his Metro City accent identifying him as a local. He glances over at the biturang perched atop Coco's camper and grunts.

"If ya lookin' for pest control, the dogs'll handle that lil' bugger better than I can."

If Morgie had been a trash panda, he might've had just the skillset that the group are in need of. Assuming, of course, that they had a way of conveying their desire to the critter, and that he had any understanding of what a motorcycle seat was. He missed out on the one time that Coco had a chance to ride a motorcycle, as her driver on the occasion hadn't had the courtesy to kidnap her pet as well.

Having been posing with the proffered prize money, Coco has just started to rub the ends of the bills she's been flapping about against her lips with one hand while leaning the other against her knee and looking around herself uncertainly by the time that one of the workers finally makes like a plumber and pipes up.

He's rewarded with a bright smile from the British babe.

"Oh, no, that's my bearcat," Coco says reassuringly as she gestures vaguely with her stack of cash. "And the doggies already know better than to mess with him," she adds with an air of dark mystery.

A few of the bills are plucked off of the sheaf, then waved in the worker's direction in much the same way that one might try to entice a cat with a toy mouse.

"Angel and I require an extra seat for a motorbike. She'll know more about that," she explains, glancing over her shoulder at the leather-clad biker chica before turning back toward the man. "We thought someone familiar with the yard might be able to assist us with locating something suitable. Preferably in faux leather, if eco-friendly velour isn't an option." She adds the last bit just in case she's the one whose posterior is going to be having to settle on the seat. Angel probably explained the arrangements, but that was five minutes ago and she was a bit distracted.

"Two hundred and fifty American dollars if we can have it in... shall we say half an hour?"

She looks to Angel again for confirmation.

The mechanic listens patiently while Coco explains things to him, idly rubbing away at his hands with the rag which only seems to make them more dirty. He spares a second glance for Captain Morgan upon learning that it's a pet, grunting again noncommittally. The way in which she frames her desire for a spare seat causes the man to pause his incessant cleaning for a few moments to give her a level stare. His gaze sweeps left and right at the piles of junk lying heaped around them and then back to Coco as if to remind her that she's standing in a scrap yard not a high-end dealership.

"Uh huh... and would your majesty prefer that in royal blue or heart red," he asks, his expression deadpan and his voice monotone.

Angel sighs and pushes herself into a trot towards the group as questioning eyes turn her way. To the man's credit, his eyes dip down only for a moment or two before returning to her face. She's probably not the first biker chick he's had to deal with working here.

"Nice suit," he says, resuming his scrubbing at grease-stained fingers.

"Thanks! I like yours too." Angel makes a show of giving the well-built mechanic a once-over and winks at him. "Bet it'd look better on me though."

That earns her a chuckle.

"So, what are you actually looking for, girl?"

The teen turns and points at the bulky Harley-Davidson parked next to her trailer and then at the poor intern struggling to gather what's left of his grocery trip back into the bags.

"I need a side car that'll work with my ride so I can lug the copper-top over there along with us into town. Doesn't need to be anything fancy, just try to find something that isn't going to give him tetanus."

The mechanic grunts and gives a quick nod, turning to stalk back off into the iron jungle on his new quest.

With that out of the way, they have a bit of time to kill. Angel turns to regard Coco, smiling amicably as she wanders her way.

"So. You wanna share the deets on what prompted this fashion emergency? I haven't been keepin' up with you guys as well as I should have so I'm a lil' outta the loop on the juicy gossip."

"Um, well, royal blue I suppose, if those are the options?" Coco starts to remark before Angel strides up alongside to provide what might have been a much-needed intervention on the British bae's behalf. Fortunately, it seems that the white-haired teen is more versed in the language of American mechanics than her current English counterpart. Morgie, meanwhile, lords over the junkyard from above - or, actually, looks to be taking an impromptu nap, now that there's no fresh food on offer.

"Well, obviously I usually select my own outfits, especially when I was back on Team Blaze, because they just gave me some orange and black things that so were not my colour," Coco starts to explain when asked by Angel, giving a little flip of her purple hair and rolling her eyes indicatively upward to emphasize the issue. "Usually shorts, because I practice Muay Thai in them and, you know, these legs. When I fought Buck round before last, I was wearing a Team Frost Muay Thai outfit, which he set on fire. It's a recurring problem for me; my opponents keep destroying my clothing, one way or another. Iris broke my Star Wars outfit last time, which it turns out was all a bit of a misunderstanding."

She stretches her arms behind her back as she considers the question a little more deeply.

"Anyways, Chevy's sort of my designated nemesis in the competition, and she's got this admittedly pretty cute new outfit thanks to Shermie. I think, you know, obviously I'm the sexy one, but everyone's sort of forgotten that because Miss Piggy's big glow-up is blowing up Hitter. So, I want to debut something new and exciting for the big tournament and remind everyone who's the alpha b-word."

Alpha b-words probably don't use the phrase 'alpha b-word,' but Coco seems earnest about her right to the title.

"But, you know, after talking with you earlier, I think it's about self-expression, really. I want to have a signature look, like the great lady fighters. You know, Tia Langray, Rainbow Mania, Chun-Li, yourself..."

She scuffs a mule against the dirt and looks the slightest bit bashful for all of a moment.

"I mean, I suppose it would also be nice if I could sus out a solution that won't fall apart if someone sets me on fire or stabs me or whatever."

The copper-top Angel has mentioned, in the meantime, is... well.

After his initial chase of Captain Morgan, Daisuke has fallen down on his knees, defeated upon the remains of the groceries he had failed to rescue. With the redhead getting distracted in the Angel & Coco trap within the trailer for a good moment, the binturong definitely had plenty enough time to get into most anything it deemed edible. And what hasn't been eaten has gotten a twelve-pack worth of crushed eggs all over them.

He was *supposed* to actually cook dinner for the whole team. Now all those intentions have been crushed. Reduced into half-eaten, saliva-coated bits and crushed morsels. This was supposed to be the first chance he was going to have actually cooking since he started working with the Team thanks to the previous accomodations straight up not having the requisite equipment.

All merely dreams, blown away like leaves by the harsh winds of reality.

Once Daisuke has seemingly given his last rites to the ravaged groceries, he leaves them behind upon their final resting place to gloomily pad his way back to Coco and Angel, with his hands in his pockets. He likely more or less ends up there after already having missed most of the conversation there, so he has no idea about the plans set by Angel for their specific mode of transportation, but he does get to throw a bemused look at Coco.

"I mean... I think generally you don't wanna get stabbed or set on fire...?"

Once again Angel falls silent while Coco explains things. Growing up in a lab where a single mistake could result in the swift end of one's existence has made her a very good listener. And, besides that, she's actually a pretty awesome friend to people who aren't mortal enemies of her organization.

The snowy-haired teen's face shifts through various expressions as Coco talks. Her nose scrunches up in disgust at the idea of wearing orange anything. She nods at the practicality of preferring shorts for fighting and, of course, the opportunity to show off her student's great legs. Her lop-sided grin returns as Coco bemoans the issue of wardrobe durability.

Most of these problems are quite relatable. No one has ever tried to force her to wear a uniform, fortunately, but needing comfortable attire and dealing with wardrobe malfunctions are things she has a great deal of experience in.

At the mention of rivals, Angel purses her lips thoughtfully and scours her memories to try and remind herself who that might be. She'd spent a couple days watching through a handful of the previous matches to try and familiarize herself with the participants but that was weeks ago.

"Chevy... Chevy... oh, the red-head with the water buckets?"

From what she had seen of the young lady in question, there wasn't too much to get worked up over. She was decent looking, in a rustic sort of way, but nothing that should be holding a candle to the likes of Coco. Ah, but there-in lies the rub, no? Angel knows full well the power of social media to blow things wildly out of proportion. It just takes a few easily excitable people to take an idea and run with it and before you know it everyone's talking about the new big thing.

As both a member of a super secret criminal organization and a famous fighting icon, Angel has had to learn how to juggle her public persona with the needs of her actual job. To that end, her interaction with the online world is kept to a minimum. While she certainly wouldn't mind being in the spotlight constantly, the need to move with discretion pops up often enough that having an army of paparazzi following her around would prove troublesome. Ironically, her elusiveness has done nothing but increase her appeal, adding an aura of enchanting mystery about the girl.

"I think I understand the problem."

Wrapping an arm around Coco's shoulders amicably, Angel gives a sideways tilt of her head towards Daisuke in acknowledgement as he returns to join the conversation.

"I mean, if we could just never get hit by anything that would solve a lot of problems. But even resident badass Angel here, with all my fancy moves..."

She blurs suddenly, like an old television with bad reception, and suddenly she's standing with her arm wrapped around Daisuke's shoulders instead.

"...can't avoid everything. So! Where does that leave us?"

Angel lifts a hand, extending her index finger up to waggle it at Coco.

"First option! Wear clothes tough enough to withstand being stabbed, burned, frozen, electrocuted and whatever other crazy powers people are throwin' around these days. Unfortunately, outside of actual armor or some fancy techno suits, there isn't much that actually can do that. All of it expensive and all of it with little to no style points."

Unlike most people, her middle finger does not extend next in order to count to two, but rather her thumb. A strange gesture but one whose hidden purpose becomes evident a few moments later.

"Numero Dos! Just don't care about it! After all, a well-timed wardrobe malfunction can prove very..."

Her hand moves down to the zipper nestled at the bottom of her cleavage, those two extended fingers grabbing hold of the pull tab and slowly starting to drag it downwards. The already dangerous amounts of breast on display start to strain against the slackening fabric, threatening to pop out entirely. Angel tilts her head to regard the teenage boy she's holding captive at her side, lowering her eyelids halfway as her voice becomes overtly silky and seductive. She leans in a little closer, whispering softly into his ear.

"...distracting. Isn't that right, Daisuke-kun~?"

Daisuke's interjection suggesting that she probably doesn't want to get stabbed or set on fire draws a look from Coco that suggests her estimation of him has just plummeted severely, and his psychic awareness likely confirms it. Fortunately, Angel is there to helpfully supply both an amicable hug and the obvious flaw in Daisuke's logic in a manner that's probably a bit less toxic and biting than what Coco the Cobra was about to retort with.

"I will point out that I did not sign up to the New Fighting Generation with the expectation that stabbing and burning were allowed, so I suppose I could have cancelled the whole thing when people showed up swinging swords and breathing fire, but, as it turns out, I'm not quite as cowardly as I suspected."

The truth is, it's a full 180 from her initial perspective on the competition. She still might not like the fact that her opponents are coming out with deadly weaponry every round, because it's still sort of cheating, but she's no longer naive to the nature of the competition nor even especially afraid of such injury after a season-long campaign of destruction. Not that she'd headbutt a bunch of bombs; she'll leave that to the real maniacs.

There's no time to think too hard about that, though; Professor Angel is giving a key lecture. She watches closely as her mentor provides a demonstration of principle.

"Oh. I was thinking maybe a fancy techno suit might be an option," Coco comments, one hand lifting absentmindedly to rub at her cheek as her eyes are drawn back to the attention-vortex steadily being revealed by the descending zipper of the white-haired teen's catsuit. "But not caring about it... is that allowed?" she asks stupidly. "Wouldn't you get in trouble? Or slut-shamed on socials?"

"Well, I mean, that's fair..." Comes Daisuke's concession to the fact that it is, frankly, quite impossible to *always* avoid getting your clothes damaged. Especially in this particular line of work.

Whatever else he might have had to say on the matter is completely lost to the swirling thoughts quickly prompted up in the teenager's head when he suddenly finds himself caught within the hold of Angel's arm about his shoulders. It's the speed at which she suddenly brought herself up there that causes the first shock -- and the realization of just *how* close she is that continues it on. But there's only the mildest bit of wriggling on the redhead's part before he calms down and deigns himself to simply listening.

As it happens, his do find their way to the blonde's hand as she gestures with it to count down her points. It may or may not be partly because focusing on something like that makes it *much* easier to not let his eyes wander any more than they already have within the positively dangerous presence of Angel. But. But then, that very same hand dips down, and Daisuke's gaze follows, all the way down to reveal an even more dangerous trap for him to get pulled into.


The poor boy probably damn near has another heart attack. But consequently, he ends up providing a perfect demonstartion of just how effective of a distraction that might have been, since he very visibly ends up with his eyes locked in that whirlpool-like pull of cleavage for several seconds before he manages to pry his eyes away, to the point of needing to look in the *entirely opposite direction* after the fact, with his face burning up with red colour yet again. At this rate he's probably going to end up feeling dizzy with all these extreme fluctuations in his body temperature.

I g-g-g-guesssss?"

Unsurprisingly, he completely fails to direct enough brain processing power after all that to provide any coherent response beyond that. Not even enough to address Coco's concenrs -- not that his opinion on *that* might be considered that valuable anyhow.

Angel's gaze remains focused on her prey, making exaggerated bedroom eyes at Daisuke, though she probably needn't have bothered. His attention is pretty well captured elsewhere, providing a fantastic example of just how effective a weapon the female body can be against certain targets. Of course, there's plenty of mature adults in the fighting circuit who can ignore something as simple as a bit of nudity, but in her experience the scales are tipped pretty far in the other direction. Modern society has been taught to consider the human body a private affair and sometimes even grizzled veterans balk at someone who has absolutely no shame in showing off their goods.

As soon as Daisuke's face whips away, an effort that resembles trying to pry two magnets apart, the vixen gives him a firm push that separates him from her side. Lesson over, no more free cuddles. A quick yank on the zipper draws it back up to its original position, leaving her chest still scandalously exposed but just shy of the need for a censor bar.

"Who cares~," she sing-songs to Coco, turning to pose like she's modeling for the front cover of a swimsuit magazine. "Did you forget our conversation already? Let people think what they wanna think! As long as you're happy being you, everyone else can get bent. Alpha B-word, remember?"

Angel winks at her student, throwing her own censored version of the phrase back at her. While she certainly has no problems swearing like a sailor, that might not be something Coco is comfortable with. And since she's in friend-mode and channeling not maximum b-word energy, she's happy to work with the girl at her own level.

"Ultimately, girl, you gotta figure out what's more important to you. Keepin' your chichis tucked away," she says, grabbing her chest with both hands and jiggling it a few times. "...or dressin' how you want."

The teen stalks over to Coco and jabs a finger into her sternum gently.

"If you keep on going with this career, you're gonna face all sorts of challenges both in and out of the ring. I've fought people that used knives, pipes, swords, spears - hell, I've even had grenades thrown at me. And some of the crazy freakshow powers that people get these days are even worse! Can't even pretend to remember how many times I've accidentally given people a free show."

Maybe almost as many times as she's done it on purpose.

"As for the media, they exist to stir up shit. If you're gonna let that sort of thing get to you, you're gonna be a bundle of wrecked nerves before the year is out. Let people talk! Most of the time, they're just jealous that they don't have what you got. Bringing others down is how some people make themselves feel better. But that only works if you give a damn what they think."

Angel takes a step back and does a little spin in place that ends with her shrugging dramatically.

"So don't! Or do." Her hands fold into finger guns which she points at Coco. "That's all up to you, chica."

Even Coco is starting to feel slightly flustered once more by the effects of Angel's sultry aura. Either that, or there's a bit of transference going on from Daisuke. Maybe it's a bit of column A and a bit of column B. With cheeks a-glow, Coco lifts both eyes up from the columns in question as Angel addresses her once more.

"Yes, understood, well put," she says with a rapid nodding of her head, folding her hands a bit too formally behind her lower back as she does so. "My chichis, my rules," she summarizes, drawing in a breath through her nostrils and puffing up with pride - and not just figuratively. "I suppose it was put rather succinctly in the words of Lady Sovereign: 'Love me or hate me, that is the question; love me or hate me, it's still an obsession. If you love me then thank you; if you hate me then fuck you.'" Perhaps she hasn't given enough credence to the classics of the chav era. Then again, she had banned the song from her playlists after discovering that there was a dead hamster in the music video. Cancelling Lady Sovereign fifteen years after she'd dropped out of relevance may have been too soon.

Regardless, this is all aligning with Coco's new sense of self-understanding. She's eager to embrace the idea of complete independence from other peoples' opinions; all that she really needed was for someone whose opinion she respects to tell her that that's okay.

She brings her hands back around to clap together in front of herself.

"Right, then. No holds barred; that's what they say, right? If uncuttable fireproof undies are off the table, then I can only be held accountable for what I enter the fight in. So, I just need to decide what I want that to be."

She taps the tips of her forefingers together and rests them against her lips as she 'hmms' thoughtfully.

"Maybe something... cobra-ish..."

To Daisuke's credit, he doesn't end up actually stumbling down onto his ass when he is shoved away from Angel. Though with how dazed he has been thanks to the sheer overwhelming presence of the blonde, he might very well momentarily look like he is about to, in his poor, nearly-sputtering, fiercely-blushing state, before he manages to regain his balance again.

He does not quite succeed in regaining a normal heartrate yet, however.

After all that, the redhead apparently makes the choice of directing the focus of his eyes primarily on Coco, while he loosely folds his arms together along his abdomen. Focusing on the purplenette at least seems like the much, much safer option *for now*. You know, for his health and stuff. There at least also exists the excuse that they're supposed to be focusing on the british girl's current fashion woes, anyway, so it shouldn't be odd that he's mostly looking at her, right? Right? There's no way that's going to be misinterpreted, right?

That being said, though. The redhead's expression goes through the process of first giving an entirely deadpan look of someone who had a reference go completely over their head - in this case that of Lady Sovereign - but still tries to make the best appearance of someone who is listening attentively regardless.

Second, his expression turns to a measure of confusion over the girl's decision of what her outfit-to-be should incorporate. He even narrows his eyes at her.

"'Cobra-ish'?" He repeats out loud, breaking his silence on the whole topic once again - possibly against his best judgement. "So, what, like... Something in snakeskin, or...?" He unfolds his arms then, just so he can make a vague hand-wobble gesture pointed in the general direction of Coco's head. "...A hood shaped like a snake's head? I mean, that would look kinda cool..."

Well. He *did* say he doesn't know anything about fashion.

"Yeah, that's the spirit!"

Don't worry Daisuke, you aren't the only person who doesn't keep track of flash-in-the-pan British rap stars. Fortunately, the quoted lyrics are enough to work with and they mirror the sentiment that Angel has been trying to impress upon this padawan. As for the idea of 'cobra-ish' - well, she's about as clueless as he is. But she's always been a master of winging it so it isn't that hard to just go with the flow here.

"Oooh, so... something striking with a hint of danger to it, huh? We can workshop that!"

The sound of something heavy being rolled through the gravel interrupts that train of thought. A few moments later the mechanic reappears in view, coming around a pile of junk with, well, another pile of junk in tow. The side car looks like it was yanked off a carnival attraction or perhaps what was left of a stunt man's failed attempt to leap across a canyon. A myriad of tiny dents across its surface betray the efforts that must have gone into trying to hammer it into a useable shape. The wheel at least looks relatively new.

Angel manages to maintain her energetic grin at the sight of the battered old buggy. Well, it won't be her ass sitting in that ratty old seat. The idea of attaching this eye-sore to her baby is a little painful but sometimes you just have to take one for the team. She gives the grease jockey a thumbs up and motions him to follow her over to her ride.

Getting the side car attached isn't terribly difficult or time consuming. Just a couple bars to attach and bolts to screw down and everything is ready to go. Angel hops on her bike and fires it up, taking a quick couple of laps around the junkyard just to make sure everything is going to hold up. Nothing important seems to have fallen off by the time she comes around the second time so she draws up next to Coco and Daisuke.

"All aboard the Angel Express!"

The bit of seat her backside isn't taking up get a pat from the girl's hand and she gives Coco a lopsided grin.

"A special seat just for alpha b-words. Hop on!"

Which leaves Daisuke to ride in the rust bucket. The joys of being an intern.

What, exactly, Constance Coalbridge may have intended by the term 'cobra-ish' is a mystery greater to no one than Constance herself. She may self-identify psychically as a cobra, but she has only a basic awareness of what cobras are like. Honestly, she was hoping that the other two could explain what she meant by 'cobra-ish.'

Fortunately, they actually do a pretty decent job.

"Oh, yes! Maybe with some sort of scale pattern on it. Not real snakeskin, obviously. And yes, maybe something with a big, scary hood that I can put down or take off when I'm actually fighting."

She's still talking as she follows Angel around to the metal stallion and its new steel Shetland Pony sidekick.

"And yes, striking, dangerous, and also sleek and suggestive. Like, intimidating, but in a sexy way."

It's probably dangerous territory any time a product pitch includes 'intimidating' and 'sexy' in the same sentence. However, Coco doesn't seem to be conscious enough of what she's saying to consider any connotations she might be creating.

She does take a minute when they get to the vehicle to consider the side car and Angel's bottom. Actually, she's considering the seat space, but it's hard to not look like she's staring a bit. She's about to offer Daisuke to switch - if only because she has unfond memories of the last time that she rode b-word on a motorbike - but Angel's declaration draws a fresh sense of resolution from the girl.


She climbs onto the back, thankful at least that she's got shorts on and not basically bare-assed this time 'round.

"I've had my tetanus jabs updated after they told us where we were staying, Daisuke, in case you need to go swapsies," she decides to offer after all as she starts trying to otherwise make herself comfortable.

Daisuke does look just a *little* surprised over Coco actually latching onto his suggestion in such a positive manner. He was so convinced he was just going to come across as completely clueless with his particular ideas! But this, then, makes him nod with a faint hint of excitement after the initial surprise has passed.

"Yeah, yeah, what if you could get decorations on the hood that look like big scary fangs too, huh? That'd be cool!"

He's kinda weirdly getting into this, now.

Though he most assuredly starts feeling much less 'into it' when the rustbucket meant to be his travel arrangement gets brought out. The understanding that he is the one meant to ride in it hits pretty quickly, and color drains from the redhead's face while he watches the thing get attached to Angel's bike.

He doesn't look particularly convinced about the safety of it all either even after the couiple test laps have been made, and his approach towards the vehicle is one of extreme wariness now.

"Er... I somehow kinda feel like tetanus is going to be the least of my worries here..." He mumbles at Coco's brave offer while he taps his hand, uncertainly, against the side of the rusty passenger seat. "This feels kinda... suuuuper not safe?"

But, because Daisuke simply does not know how to say 'no' most of the time, he *still* ends up sliding him in, with *extremely* careful motions borne out of fear that the thing might fall apart if he jostles it too hard.

"...Should I have like. A helmet, or something...?"

Oh, good, no one really seems to know what they're talking about. As the preeminent master of winging it, Angel thrives in such environments. As the old saying goes: as long as you're confident in what you say, people will believe you.

"Hmm. Not sure how much snake-themed clothing we're gonna find at an East Coast mall but we should be able to get some ideas, at least. Now if we were down in Texas, that'd be another matter..."

She gives her two passengers a few moments to get situated, scooting up as far as she comfortably can to allow Coco a pleasant ride. The hog is big enough that both women are able to have ample room for their ample backsides though the shape of the seat more or less requires the Brit to snuggle up flush against Angel's back.

Despite it's outwards appearance, the side car proves sturdy and secure, allowing Daisuke to board without any wiggling or signs of falling apart. The worst of it proves to be the seat. Whatever cheap stuffing had been used to pad the bottom has long since been preyed upon by mold leaving little more than a deflated leather square to sit on. While it might not be the most comfortable ride ever, the mechanic clearly knows his stuff enough not to give them a death trap.

The question about safety measures is drowned out by a deafening guttural roar as Angel kicks the engine to life, twisting the accelerator a few times to prime the engine. She leans back and tilts her head to shout, "Hang on tight, cutie!", providing only a couple of seconds for Coco to comply before the three of them accelerate suddenly towards the scrapyard's entrance.

After an initial stomach-churning encounter with inertia as Angel guides their ride out onto the open road, the trip proves relatively uneventful, though their pilot's affinity for unhealthy amounts of speed does create a few harrowing moments. The side car essentially turns the large bike into a small open-topped buggy, however, which makes it a simple matter to guide it through the twists and turns as they make their way into the suburbs and then the city proper. Heavier traffic forces them to slow down to something more reasonable, though Angel proves the kind of driver willing to weave between vehicles regardless of how narrow the opening seems to be.

But, despite her seemingly reckless disregard for safety, her control over the bike is flawless and they soon find themselves pulling into the vast parking lot of one of Metro City's many gigantic malls. Angel circles around the lot a few times to scout out a good parking spot before pulling to a stop, the engine grumbling a few last times before it dies down.

Twisting at the waist to regard her pair of passengers, the teen offers them her dopey grin.

"Enjoy the ride?"

Technically, it's the best motorcycle ride of Coco's life.

For starters, she can still feel her legs by the time that it's over. And she hasn't screamed her throat to the verge of bleeding, either. In fact, it might just be some sort of rapidly-evolving Stockholm syndrome, but by the time that they've reached the mall, Coco is even starting to consider the possibility that maybe she should buy a motorcycle. After all, the two most b-word-a-word young ladies her age that she's met both ride them, and there's something undeniably sexy about it.

As they come to a complete stop, Coco unloops her arms from around Angel's middle, her hold having relaxed from deathgrip to cautiously comfortable over the course of the ride (other than those few harrowing instances).

"Not bad, actually. I'm starting to warm to the whole riding shotgun thing," she remarks pleasantly as she eases her ass off of the leather and half-stumbles onto her mules.

(No, Coco, it's not called riding shotgun when you're on the back of the motorcycle.)

"How about you, Daisuke?"

She starts to idly rub the sensation of life back into her thighs as she surveys the establishment at which they've arrived.

"I wonder if any of these places sell clubwear," she muses as she starts to drift a bit toward one of the entrances to the building. Looking back over her shoulder, she smiles and pulls out what looks to be a credit card. "So, you two ready to shop?"

Daisuke, on the other hand? He did not Have A Good Time.

It's not just the fact that the seat was honestly, incredibly uncomfortable. It is very much also the appearance of the safety of it all -- or lack thereof, rather. Angel might drive safely, but Daisuke has no way of knowing that the mechanic did actually make sure there wouldn't be any fatalities in this whole deal. The lack of a helmet and any kind of seatbelt doesn't help.

So the redhead was almost definitely clinging on to whatever he could grab for dear life the whole way. By the time they came to a stop in the parking lot, color has almost completely drained from his face, and his knuckles have grown white as well from having maintained a death grip on the edges of the sidecar for so long.

"..............I'm fine......."

The answer to Coco's question might not sound very convincing, with all that in mind. He's still instinctively careful in his dismounting of the rustbucket, too, and his steps are just a little wobbly for a few seconds while he tries to reorient himself with the delightfully stable ground again.

"...Right behind you, I guess..." He's more or less relented to the idea of just being The Help on this trip. He might have *some* ideas, but he's not entirely sure if he should speak up on them or not.

Angel gives nothing but the best rides. Take that as you will.

Once both passengers have dismounted, the teen swings herself off the bike and does a little stretching of her own. You can literally hear the leather of her outfit squeaking in protest as she bends back and forth. Considering how she's acted thus far, the show she puts on might be an intentional tease or just an inherent part of her completely carefree approach to sexuality. Both seem equally likely. Either way, that cat suit does some mighty interesting things while she works out the kinks of their trip.

"Alrighty! Let's go see what we can scrounge up, yeah?"

Taking a few quick strides to catch up with Coco, the energetic teen passes her and takes the lead of their merry little band. She's not really a mall-goer most of the time. Her usual haunts are a bit more along the lines of dance clubs and dive bars where the music is loud or the drinks are cheap and morals get checked at the door. One of the tragic downsides of having a genetically enhanced body is her super-charged liver all but makes it impossible to actually get drunk. A decent buzz usually takes a bottle or two of something stiff. Once she actually made it to tipsy but that required her to guzzle down a couple gallons of absinthe and boy did she regret that in the aftermath.

But, despite being famous for having a certain look, Angel does actually go shopping from time to time for extra outfits. She's gotten quite good at sniffing out the sorts of shops which provide the style of apparel that suits her personal fashion and it seems like Coco shares a lot of the same tastes. So, after a few minutes of cruising around and peering in windows she finally zeros in on a good candidate.


The shop in question looks more like a lingerie boutique than anything that would have appropriate attire to be wearing in public, much less to a fight. Half a dozen mannequins are splayed out in the display windows arranged into poses that could only charitably be described as 'evocative'. No amount of charity can dispel the fact that every one of them is dressed in something that, were the dolls possessed of proper anatomy, would require more censor bars than cloth.

But it isn't just the sexy displays that draws her attention. A bright sign hanging above the wide archway of the store displays its name and logo in neon pink - a pair of stylized winged females wearing what's obviously meant to be pieces of lingerie and nothing else. Each of the sexy figures has embraced the opposite end of a pair of large words formed out of glowing cursive letters, their legs and breasts wrapped provocatively around the towering font.

"Naughty Angel," she reads out, smirking mischievously. "If that isn't a sign from above, I don't know what is~!"

"Good! Come along! That's the spirit!"

Channelling the essence of her past nannies, Coco beckons Daisuke along with a flutter of her fingers before trotting off after Angel. With Coco as the Apprentice, Daisuke as the Help, and Angel as the fearless (and shameless) leader, it seems that all three have found their place in this dynamic, and the celestial balance is in order. Perhaps it's this alignment that leads to the auspicious arrival at Naughty Angel.

Coco's eyes turn slowly to white-and-silver saucers as she takes in the lettering of the shop before dropping her gaze to the displays. She hadn't allowed herself to contemplate that a place like this might have relevance to her intended aesthetic for one of her matches. However, with Angel's explicit approval and the door to a previously-forbidden part of her mind unlocked, she can now begin to see where some of the items that she's seeing could form the foundation for her new look to work from.

Especially considering that the damage mechanics in NFG seem to result in her hitting the innerwear layer sooner or later in at least half of her matches, anyway.


Fists balled at either side of her chest with anticipation, Coco holds in a squee before bounding up through the archway to get a closer look at the displays. Bodysuits, bras, underwear... she starts taking stock of the available options in her mind with a hand pressed thoughtfully against her chin and lips.

"Ooh! What if I started with something like this?" she suggests as she grabs something off of the rack and holds it up for Angel and Daisuke to see. It's kind of hard to tell at first what the bundle of fabric is, what with all the holes - perhaps it's a pair of bikini bottoms for an octopus? - but once she gets it unfurled it's more clear that it's a black bodysuit with cutouts on the sides and chest.

It does look like it's leaving more to the imagination on the hook than it would when worn, even if it's not the most dangerous thing on display in the shop.

"If either of you see anything you think would work, feel free to grab it," she adds.

Being the good intern that he is, Daisuke's relegated to just following the two women around in order to support whatever whim they might end up following here. He even keeps a pace behind the two to complete the look of... well, a servant who stays at the ready but acts like part of the background until called upon or otherwise needed.

They do happen to pass by at least one store that does catch the redhead's attention, though. They might not actually walk right besides it, but close by enough on the same floor he can at least spot it in the distance. Windows all lined up with posters displaying characters from videogames and anime alongside clothing articles from those very same posters. Some kind of cosplay resource store, maybe? The redhead does start to pipe up with a lift of his hand to try and get Angel and Coco's attention over it, but... he ends up deciding against it at the very last second.

The impression these two have of him is probably questionable enough as is without him suggesting they go *there*.

Though the store that Angel does end up bringing him and Coco to makes him concerned for... entirely different reasons. There's actually an audible *gulp* of nervousenss from the young man while his eyes sweep over the provocative sign, and it takes a couple seconds for him to gather his mental strength to a point required for following in after them.

"Um, isn't this place kinda..." He does end up murmuring once inside, however, trying his best to not look at any one display for too long out of fear of giving an entirely wrong impression.

That thought is halted temporarily when Coco holds out the provocative bodysuit. He does *have* to look then, since she did ask for an opinion. Even if it does visibly get him flustered.

"I-- g-guess it's nice?" He offers, tone all too akward and damn-near sputtering as a result of his futile attempts to keep his embarrassment in check. "But, like-- er... wouldn't most of this stuff put you in danger of getting arrested? For, like... public indecency, you know...?"

Well, he is at least *trying* to be the voice of reason. From the way he sounds, though, he doesn't actually expect to be very successful at it with these two.

Though her enthusiasm is a bit more contained, Angel is quick to follow her protege into the store and start scanning the wares on offer. After all, it's been a while since she treated herself to something new in the fashion department. She'd never give up her classic wardrobe, of course. There's just something cozy about sticking with the original look that made her famous. But that doesn't mean she can't branch out every now and then.

Ultimately, she's just window shopping for the moment, however. Today is Coco's day and she directs most of her mental energy to looking for things that might suit the Brit's taste. She only has the sample size of what the girl is currently wearing to go off of, so mostly she's just waiting for her padawan to find something that she likes and they can go from there.

Not that it takes long for her to do just that. Coco's cry of excitement draws Angel away from her own browsing to come inspect the chosen garment. Her eyes sparkle with amusement and approval once the body suit is fully on display. Reaching out to take the cloth, she holds it up to the other girl's front to try and get a better idea of what it'd look like on her.

"Okay, okay! I see where you're goin' with this, girl!"

Her mind starts to consider possible directions to embellish this choice. A jacket or a vest to give the top a little more character. Some nice comfortable boots, naturally, perhaps a combat knee-high with some urban armor for the knees. Maybe some tights or stockings to shrink that ever important thigh gap down to something properly titillating. Hmm, shorts?

"If you aren't flirting with a scandal, you aren't dressed to party~," Angel singsongs as she turns to delve further into the store, searching for items on her mental check list.

Unsurprisingly, the lingerie store doesn't have much in the way of tactical body armor or boots but after a bit of scrounging she does manage to come back with a small handful of various items. A few different varieties of leg wear including some pre-ripped stockings, a garter belt and thigh-high leg warmer combo, and some fishnet lace top pantyhose. Additionally, she places down a pair of extremely short cut-off t-shirts and tube tops, along with some fingerless fishnet gloves, a variety of chokers bedecked with buckles and spikes, and a couple pairs of shorts that have cut in half and then stitched back together in such a way as to vastly increase the amount of skin they display.

"Here ya go, cutie! See if any of this catches your fancy."

Perhaps the cosplay shop will attract the attention of Coco and Angel on its own further down the shopping line. For now, they've already found their heaven. Or at least, something that could vaguely be interpreted based on the branding as having some connection to the concept of heaven.

Coco gives Daisuke a questioning look when he voices his concerns about the decency of the garments on display, particularly since she interprets his reticence as applying to the one that she's holding up at the moment.

"What? No, no, look, these aren't boob holes, Daisuke; you're looking at it all wrong. See? These are for the arms, these are for the legs, so this goes up my bottom, there's a little cleavage window here, then these are just, you know, skin gaps. I wouldn't get arrested for wearing this in public. I'll show you if you like."

Whilst she's explaining all of that in more complete detail for Daisuke's benefit, Angel is already off amassing her pile of garments. Realising this, Coco starts grabbing a few things herself; a pair of armwarmers that seem to be intended to accompany the bodysuit are collected, and she grabs a pair of flared trousers with cut-out panels on the upper thighs. By the time she's choosily chosen those items, Angel is already bag with her armload.

"Cheers!" Coco bids as she checks out the items that her mentor has brought to show.

"Suppose I may as well get started..."

She picks out a handful of items and flounces off to the changing room, soon to emerge in...


...a pair of little black sewed-up cutoffs over the high-cut bodysuit with side and chest panels, with the fishnet gloves, fishnet-top pantyhose, and a spiked collar.


A pair of blue cut-offs and tube top, armwarmers, pre-ripped stockings and a buckled collar.


Thigh high leg-warmers with a pair of black leather garter belts with heart-shaped metal buckles, the bodysuit, legwarmers, armwarmers, and a choker with a heart-shaped buckle.


The same thing, but with a pair of cutoffs on over it. Perhaps prompted by distress from Daisuke regarding the previous variation.

"So, do you think any of these work so far, or do you have any other suggestions?" she asks both of the others as she tugs on her lower garments, trying to keep things from riding.

"I didn't think that!" Daisuke claims with a defensive wave of both of his hands over Coco's clarification that there aren't, in fact, 'boob holes' in the bodysuit (besides the cleavage window anyway). "J-just, I mean--" He pointedly looks away from the article of clothing she is holding out, but his eyes seem to end up into places that only get worse with every alteration of point of focus. "There's... some really risky stuff here, you know?"

Daisuke is, perhaps understandably (or not?), feeling pretty akward right now. He mostly just hangs around looking extremely lost while the girls are gathering clothes. He may or may not also end up needing to try to assure a store employee that he is, in fact, here with someone instead of being some kind of weirdo.

When it's time for the actual changing, he does join up with the girls again (OUTSIDE the changing room, mind you), to wait for the outfits to be displayed.


The redhead tries his very best to not look anywhere below the neck for more than 1.52 seconds at a time, but he does narrow his eyes at the neck in question. Or the collar there. "...Why the spikes...?"


The redhead clearly has an easier time with this one, even if he does still scuff his foot against the ground in another fit of teenaged akwardness. "It's... cute?"


Daisuke's blush makes it's embarrassing return. He doesn't manage to actually say anything this time, but he does try to at least give a nod so as to provide at least *some* input.


Apparently the outfit is easier to process with the cut-offs. Though the damage has already been done, and the redhead in his akwardness only manages to offer a singular thumb-up and a mutter of, "I-it's nice..."

He is not very helpful.

Had they come without any purpose in mind other than to spend time shopping, Angel would be right there in that dressing room with Coco trying on new clothes. She spied more than a few items that caught her interest while looking around for stuff to show her padawan. However, the whole point of this trip was to focus on the Brit; and arguably to see if they can make Daisuke's head explode. While adding her own voluptuous form to the line up would certainly help with the latter, she doesn't want to do anything that might detract from Coco getting all the attention today.

As such, she still joins her protege in the dressing room to be an extra pair of hands. She knows full well how troublesome outfits like these can be to figure out the first few times. The fashion show, however, she leaves to Coco this time.

Each time the two girls emerge from the secret recesses of booths, Angel moves over to stand next to their hapless guinea pig and adds her own commentary on the outfits once Daisuke manages to gather up enough blood above his shoulders to add his two cents.

==*== ANGEL'S ADVICE: OUTFIT 1 ==*==

The first outfit was one she allowed Coco to assemble without any input of her own while they were in the back. She's only just met the girl so getting a good idea of how her mind works when it comes to fashion will be helpful for future efforts. The fishnet combo of gloves and hose is a classic for club wear and it's hard to go wrong with a spiked collar when you're trying to put off bad girl vibes. The body suit and cut-up shorts are the real stand out items here.

"Throw a fishnet tank on with that and you've got some bitchin' club threads! Not sure I'd wear that to a fight though."

==*== ANGEL'S ADVICE: OUTFIT 2 ==*==

This one was a result of her suggesting Coco try something without the bodysuit. While she definitely digs the style, it's good to make sure the girl isn't attached to any one particular thing lest she overlook other potential designs. Tube top and booty shorts is pretty much Lesson 101 on how to dress slooty but sometimes you just have to go back to the basics. With the arm warmers and stockings thrown in, she looks like the front cover of a Hot Topic fashion catalogue.

"You wear it well, cutie, but it's a bit generic. Kinda screams daddy's little girl trying to be rebellious. If you were fifteen, it'd be a great starter kit, but I think we can do better!"

==*== ANGEL'S ADVICE: OUTFIT 3 ==*==

Going back to the bodysuit as a central fixture of the outfit, this round sees the addition of some stylized garters and choker. Without the shorts to cover up the lower half, Coco's shapely bottom is prominently on display and provides a pleasing break up to the dark black cloth along with the bits of skin that are visible through the cut-out slats. It still needs a little something to bring it all together but overall this one is her favorite thus far.

"Now we're talkin', girl! A few accessories here and there and I think you might have nailed it!" She elbows the unresponsive Daisuke in the ribs, grinning at his obvious embarrassment. "Pretty sure Intern-kun here agrees, judging by the color of his face!"

==*== ANGEL'S ADVICE: OUTFIT 4 ==*==

The last one was basically just an attempt to get Daisuke to actually say something about the previous set up. The addition of shorts is something that Angel is on the fence about. On the one hand, they do match the rest of the get up pretty well. But, on the other, bootay! It's a pretty easy choice for her to make but whether or not Coco wants to shake her money maker around all the time is something that she has to decide.

"To booty shorts or not to booty shorts - that is the question, nya~!"

Coco's response to the reaction from Daisuke to her first outfit is to give him an equally questioning look. "...Why not...?" She takes in Angel's advice with a thoughtful nod; all of the accessories (and a fishnet tank top) end up in a bag for Daisuke for later.

The second outfit, being a relatively rapid improvisation, gets more or less filed away as something to wear casually rather than as a personal statement. Tube top and distressed stockings get thrown in a bag for imminent purchase.

The third one seems to have had the intended effect and represent the Coco Clothing Committee getting somewhere, and the fourth (or perhaps secretly fifth; was there something too scandalous to show?) just includes a (very) small addition in the form of the booty shorts. The open-toe-and-heel legwarmers have a bit of a callback to her usual Muay Thai wraps, marrying the aesthetic with a more sleek clubwear style, and the strappy garters allow the warmers to be flexible enough to allow mobility without being at too much risk of falling down, a point she emphasizes by posing in various positions that range from Muay Thai kicks to yoga stretches. Even the shorts allow a good standing split, as she demonstrates, although there may be a risk that the laces could come loose if stretched too far, but worst case scenario that would just mean #4 becomes #3.

It's probably something that can be workshopped. Especially by trying a few more possible options shortswise.

"Alright! I think we're getting somewhere," Coco says as she starts wiggling back out of the shorts without thinking about poor Daisuke. "I'll just go ahead and add these to the shopping, then we can look for more accessories! And keep a look out for anything else that might work," she determines as she starts backing into the dressing room in preparation of changing back into her own outfit. Maybe she could get some smaller belts like the leg ones to match for the armwarmers. One can never have too many belts as a fighter...

The teasing prompting from Angel to get some kind of additional response out of Daisuke results, as might have been expected, even more blushing (ironically enough, for having called said blushing out in the first place). Though it does also make him huff a little indignantly and bat his hand after Angel over the rib-elbowing with a mutter of, "I dunno what you're talking about..."

He definitely knows pretty much exactly what she is talking about.

He does offer an additional comment to Angel's musings on the fourth outfit, in the form of, "W-well, the shorts do fit in pretty well..." Which is the diplomatic way of saying they cover more and make it all look more appropriate. Which would be the roundabout way of saying the booty shorts make it at least a little less risky for Daisuke to suddenly die from excessive nosebleeds. But then again, shorts as small as that do kind of have a way of drawing the eye, too, in fairness.

Speaking of nearly-lethal nosebleeds, Coco damn near causes another one thanks to her working herself out of those scandalously short shorts right there. "W-w-wait, Coalbridge-san, y-y-you're gonna pull at--" Pull at the lower part of the bodysuit in the most unfortunate ways with the way she's moving, he seems to think. That might not actually be the case, but between the show that's already getting put on and the visual image his assumption has put into his head, he's already burning red and needing to look pretty decisively *away*. You know, to be polite.

Angel watches her protege struggle to get out of the tight shorts for a moment then grins at the intern mischievously as he preemptively turns away to avoid any imminent wardrobe malfunctions.

"Oh yeah, they fit -real- well."

With the baseline for the new outfit established, and this shop more or less plundered of everything it can contribute to the process, the Mexican waits for Coco to get dressed and pay for everything and then immediately drags both of them back out into the mall. There's a key component missing to this outfit. Namely - shoes!

While some fighters chose to go barefoot, like the famous Ryu and Ken or her fellow mentor Juri, those are all experienced pros. It takes a lot of time to build up the sort of pain tolerance one needs to go kicking people with your tootsies plus having some extra weight on the legs just adds that little bit more power. It's one of the many reasons why she opts for heavy cowboy boots despite her own super-human strength. Plus, you know, they look cute.

While she isn't super familiar with Coco's fighting style, Angel has watched a few of her previous matches as part of her NESTS research. The similarities between her own moves and the Brit's might be hard to pick out amidst Angel's insanely personalized method of laying the smacketh down but she knows Muay Thai when she sees it. The use of pretty much every striking surface on the body is one of its primary hallmarks and Coco's shown no hesitation in throwing elbows and knees along with her punches and kicks. Which is a good way to get a broken bone if something goes wrong since she's -fairly- certain that her padawan isn't also a genetically modified super soldier. Padded gloves are great and all but she needs a little something more to start out with. The fact that what she has in mind will go great with the ensemble they've assembled is icing on the cake.

While the anime cosplay shop that Daisuke had longingly stared at before would provide something that -looks- like what she wants, the odds of it being functional are pretty low. So instead, Angel consults the nearest guide map for a moment and then leads them off in a different direction to the far end of the mall.

Their destination proves to be a sporting goods shop. All manner of eclectic apparel lines the display area from sportsball uniforms and equipment to running shorts and yoga pants. Angel strides right past all of this, glancing back and forth as they pass between rows and rows of useless stuff until at last she spots what she's looking for.

"Found you, nya~!"

Roller blading had fallen out of wide popularity some twenty years ago, just before she was born. People still enjoyed it from time to time but the days of finding vast skating rinks scattered all over the place have long since passed. Skateboarding, on the other hand, has proven a far more timeless activity still yet preferred by punks and wanna-be rebels everywhere. Which means that fussy over-protective mothers still create a demand for specialized protective wear.

Browsing the array of pads and helmets lining the wall, Angel quickly spots something that suits her mental image. The pair of heavy-duty polymer shin guards that she shows to Coco look more like a futuristic piece of body armor than anything meant to be worn for fun. Sleek and stylish with several military-grade buckles meant to keep them in place they would make the perfect addition to her new look while also being practical.

"I noticed you like to get in close and scrap it out. What do you think about these, cutie? Should help keep those sexy legs from getting too banged up."

Fortunately for everyone involved, Coco doesn't end up causing any actual wardrobe malfunctions. For that, it seems, she needs another NFG fighter's assistance. She does seem to take a bit longer than she should be needing to in the dressing room, though. After all, she has some selfies to take of her new style, and a particular member of Team Blaze to send them to. It's a sort of revenge for said Blazer bailing on his plans with her earlier in the evening. Not that this would likely be happening otherwise.

The order is soon paid for courtesy of Coco's card, and soon the trio are off on tour.

"So, where to next?"

The answer becomes evident when Angel leads the adventuring party into the sporting goods store. At first, this causes Coco to look slightly confused.

"Why are we...? Ooh!"

That 'ooh' is Coco noticing that there are some really cute yoga pants on display... with her name on the butt?

"What's this?"

Is there some other Coco who sells yoga pants? But no - she soon realises that it's part of an entire section of the sports shop dedicated to New Fighting Generation merch. There are pants with all of the fighters' names on, stylized to reflect the personas of the fighters. She even spots a collection of men's with Hawksley's name printed in flaming text and grabs them. More selfies time -

"Mmm? Oh! Sorry! Wow!"

Coco has the pants hanging over her arm as she returns her attention to the present and sees the shin guards that the Mexican beauty is presenting to her.

"Aren't they a bit, umm - oh, I guess they're not - actually, these are sort of badass, aren't they? Like, hint of danger, striking."

It is true that she does spend quite a bit of time kneeing people in the head, and if they're going to be helmets while she's doing that, maybe she should be wearing some actual real protection. She already wore that fake plastic armour in her last fight, and this one's actually designed for physical activity.

"Actually, I think they're smashing. Here, I'll try them on," she says, handing off the His and Hers NFG-brand yoga pants to her personal red-headed shopping attendant before using a seat intended for the purpose to plonk her posterior down and start working out how to get the guards on and whether they seem like they'll be comfortable enough to fight in.

"I think if I've got these on I'll probably need something up top to balance it out a bit. Like, maybe that hood that Daisuke was talking about, on a little vest or something..."

It's once they set to leave the store that Daisuke now actually starts looking the part of The Help. What with the big paper bags he has almost certainly been relegated to carrying for the sake of transporting the clothes purchased within.

His akwardness levels do significantly drop down after they leave the store, too, since he is no longer surrounded by... you know. Extremely risque clothes all over. Though it's not entirely gone, since the two bags he has in his hands also happen to proudly display the Naughty Angel logo on them to signal to more or less everyone who happens to walk by where he has just been.

Though if he's lucky maybe people will actually just correctly assume he is with someone. Even better if they assume he is with the two knock-out girls who are walking ahead of him.

He's mostly quiet while they delve through the sporting goods store. Mostly since Angel seems like she is on A Mission. Even if he does slow down when Coco's attention is caught by something else there. Yoga pants and other clothes branded after NFG personalities.

"...Seriously...?" He mumbles, his mind clearly unable to properly the ways of fashion as presented here. "Also, like... why did they print the name on the part that goes over the butt? That's just asking for trouble..."

The complaints clearly won't be enough to disassuade Coco, though, and he just resigns himself to needing to add all *those* things to the weight he is hauling around, too.

As for the leg-guards Angel presents to Coco, finally? This one Daisuke does actually get around to studying these particular articles. "...I like them, honestly. They look lightweight enough they probably won't slow you down either. Get off cheaper than going with some military-style stuff, too."

He does happen to know how expensive *that* stuff would be, since he had considered the same kind of stuff at one point for his 'masked hero' persona. But that's a story for another time.

"You'd probably have to get something like that specifically tailored," he does note to Coco about the earlier hood (and maybe vest?) idea. "I mean..." He does scuff his foot against the floor again, and idly peeks back to the entrance to the store, and some vague direction beyond it while he mutters, *mostly* to himself, "There might be something over at that one place..."

"Smashing," she says, trying to mimic Coco's British accent, "is what I was going for!"

Handing over the pads, Angel takes a moment to glance over the new additions to Daisuke's arm load of loot. She smirks at the discovery of the personalized pants. Ah, shameless capitalism at it's finest. Not that she can throw stones there considering there's an entire damn theme-park in Japan with her namesake courtesy of her perpetually thirsty friend Alma. Maybe one day, if Coco ever learns about her shady affiliations with NESTS, she'll share the rather hilarious story of Golden Angel with her. Sentient bikini goo monster is definitely on the list of 'shit only a crazy super villain organization could up with'.

A quick check of the area reveals merch for each and every one of the NFG contenders. While yoga pants aren't really her thing, or pants in general for that matter, Angel snatches up one of each for all of the members of Team Frost. Yes, even Buford. Maybe they'll make for nice gifts to hand out once the final matches are all decided. Amusing ones, at the least.

"Here, hold on to this~."

Dumping yet another pile of clothes into Daisuke's lap, the teen returns her attention to the girl of the evening as she should be finishing up with trying on the shin guards right about now. A quick bit of mental imagery allows her to combine the armored pads with everything else they picked up earlier. It's definitely starting to create the image of a badass femme fatale!

"Military gear is overrated. Most of it is hot garbage slapped together in Taiwan or something. You want stuff that works, you look for something commercial."

Returning to the rack, Angel rustles around for a bit until she finds a matching pair of arm guards in black and red. Like the leg gear, they look like something that was designed for anime or perhaps futuristic mall ninjas only without the cringey spikes and protrusions such nonsense tends to come with. Sleek, protective, and stylish!

"This should help," she says, putting them down next to Coco. "As for vests and hoods, that's sort of out of my wheelhouse. Don't really go for that urban commando stuff. Sounds like Intern-kun has some ideas on that front though."

Those Buford yoga pants are probably soon to be a big ticket collector's item, judging by how likely people are to burn them after his latest interview on the NFG website. So are the line of t-shirts with each of the competitors' faces on the front but Brian Storm's name on them.

"I mean, that's usually where the text goes on pants, isn't it?" Coco remarks regarding the yoga pants, not seeming to take the decision as a big deal as someone who's accustomed to paying to turn her backside into a billboard space for brands.

The kneepads are definitely going on the 'must-buy' pile; she'll have to give them a go in actual practice - which might mean finding someone willing to get kneed in the head a few times for the sake of science - but it's an interesting option for sure. They seem at first go to offer the right combination of mobility and protection to be worth trying, regardless of any funny looks the British chick in designer girl-next-door clothes is getting from any skateheads who might be loitering around.

"Oh, do you think so?" Coco says as Daisuke looks back toward the entrance/exit. She tries on the arm guards for good measure; she's not totally sure when it comes to them, but they seem to fit fine. She'll have to try them with the full getup on and decide then.

"Excellent. I wasn't really planning on going commando, but if that's what it calls for, it's worth a go."

There may be some confusion over the terminology being used.

"Alright, Daisuke. I'll let you lead on if you think you know where we can get this snake hood vest thing sorted. Then, maybe we can all have a bubble tea or something."

"Er... I might have a suspicion is all..." Daisuke claims, suddenly a bit more on the sheepish side of things, complete with akward peering away from the two girls. This time it's not due to any blush-inducing reason, though.

He feels very much put on the spot. Both Angel and Coco appear convinced that he has at least some kind of lead on this final piece for Coco's outfit, which... well, it is true. Even if he is kind of embarrassed to admit it.

And as it is, he takes the lead this time once the trio leaves the shop. He's still not struggling with the load of shopping goods that have been relegated as his carrying burden, but he might be starting to get a *little* worried about where this is going. If they go somewhere after this next destination, he might be in trouble.

"So, um... I dunno if we're going to find *exactly* what you want, but... We might be able to find something that could be modified after buying it, you know? I mean..."

That explanation stalls when he purposefully makes a rather sudden turn in the middle of their walk. One that finally makes it clear just where exactly he is leading the girls. Towards that very cosplay shop he had spotted earlier, halting himself in place just before the entrance, where a display mannequin proudly sporting what is obviously some manner of magical girl outfit is standing in the seperation between two lanes. Turning around there, then, to look back to his bosses for the day.

"T-that's kinda what most cosplay usually is anyway, apparently? I mean, that's what I heard... There's a cosplay club in my school, you see, and one of their members told me some stuff about it once... Uh..."

The redhead peeks back to the store, akwardly, and-- he suddenly turns over again, to walk in the *opposite* direction.


He's trying to make a run for it!

"You should try it some time. It's pretty liberating~."

What, you thought she wears anything underneath that bikini/chaps combo? That'd be a pretty impressive magic trick.

With that mental image burning its way through their poor intern's mind, Angel tags along at the rear of the formation as Daisuke gets his chance to finally contribute to the shopping spree as something other than a glorified shopping cart. Contrary to what her eclectic fashion sense might suggest, she doesn't do a lot of dressing up all that often. If anything, most of the 'special' outfits that she's donned over her career have involved wearing even less than she usually does. So she's happy to let someone else pitch in their thoughts on Coco's desire for snake-like apparel.

"Why... am I not surprised."

Perhaps it's a bit of stereotyping to think it unsurprising that the Japanese teenager would lead them straight into an otaku's toy box. Then again, she's a Mexican that primarily drinks tequila, enjoys cactus slices, and wears cowboy boots so who is she to talk? The mentor just shrugs and grins as they pull up in front of the shop. She eyes the magical girl outfit, noting that is's almost as skimpy as the stuff Coco was trying on earlier, and gives Daisuke an amused look with her eyebrow quirked.

Angel's fingers close around the suddenly reticent intern's shirt collar before he's made it even two steps. Unless he's willing to literally rip himself out of that shirt, she handily drags the boy behind her with unnatural strength as they make their way into the cosplay shop.

"So, this is what you're into! Shoulda figured."

Rows upon rows of famous anime outfits cover the walls and shelves as they delve into the depths of this den of depravity. Most of the space is taken up by pop culture icons like Bleach and Naruto. Spikey Saiyan hair wigs, shoulder pads that would make an NFL linebacker balk, leather trench coats with enough belts to make an entire outfit of their own, impractical replica weaponry of all shapes and sizes, flowing adventurer capes, fake elf ears, industrial make up kits, and of course enough funko pops to sink the Titanic. It's veritable cornucopia of nerd culture.

"Maybe I can find something in here to wear for Halloween, nya. Wanna pick something out for me, Intern-kun?"

"Well, I suppose I could if it would fit the outfit," Coco says with vague detachment in response to Angel's recommendation. In true post-Millennial fashion, the purple-haired Brit appears to be distracted with checking her buzzing phone as the trio are walking along. Something appearing on the screen seems to give her a spot of bother, judging by the slightly sour expression on her face by the time she puts her device away again. It's at that moment that she finally looks up to see where Daisuke has led them.

"What the...?"

Thankfully, Daisuke is there to explain exactly what the purpose of the shop is. Despite being a surprisingly avid Star Wars cosplayer herself, Coco wouldn't really have known just to look at the storefront what the place was. The word 'cosplay' does explain quite a bit, though.

"Oh, yes! Halloween! I never even thought about it! Maybe I should pick out a Halloween costume as well, since the first round is happening shortly!"

She could also try Halloweening up her existing costume, but that usually involves adding a bit of orange, which is already established as a no-go for the girl with purple hair. Although, this shop /is/ full of wigs.

"Wow! Is this the sort of stuff that they wear in animes and things?"

Wandering in along with Angel and the less-than-admittedly-enthusiastic Daisuke, she examines the available items with curiousity. She had never considered it before, but the idea of being able to change her look by popping on a wig is really rather intriguing. Maybe she could even try going brunette or something! As someone with naturally lilac-hued hair, it's a novel prospect.

"I'm going to start trying some things on! Daisuke, you can pick out a costume for me as well! Anything you like!"

And then it's another montage of all different hair colours and lengths to frame Coco's face as she tries them on in front of a mirror, taking selfies each time. Silver-grey eyes allow anything to go to some degree. And ultimately, they're probably all going to end up being bought; who knows when they might come useful? One would think she's planning to start a career as a brightly-coloured international super-spy.


As it turns out, Daisuke is not, in fact, willing to outright tear himself out from his shirt, and as a result, he is quite literally dragged along by Angel, to the point he's left slightly slumped over from the leveraging for a moment, complete with his feet sliding ineffectually along the floor.

"H-hey!" He still manages to complain even while getting bodily hauled along. "W-what's that supposed to mean?" Does he really come across as some kind of otaku?! Sure, he does kind of watch some anime and play videogames, but...

Once he is (eventually) released, he doesn't actually try to run away, at least. Though he does seem embarrassed for having brought the two in here at this point, even if he is curiously eyeing over some of the things within the store.

But when he is supposedly offered the chance to pick out a Halloween costumer for the girls? He actually freezes in place momentarily. There was just a few seconds where he did actually seem to be looking them over with genuine consideration, before he's turned back to akward stuttering.

"I d-d-don't think you w-want me t-to do that..."

He's quick to spin around and go delving through the items on display, then, while Coco's trying out wigs. Honestly, he wasn't actually sure they'd find anything even vaguely like what the brit was talking about here, but it's the closest place he could think of where there'd be even a chance.

That being said, though, he does kind of look at some of the clothing items and accessories on display with some interest. Some of the things do make him think about how he should improve on his masked vigilante outfit, others...

"...I bet Eddow would get a kick out of some of this stuff... Maybe Tenjin too...?"

His eyes may or may not wander towards a cat ear headband at some point, and result in *some* kind of thought that causes a momentary blushing attack he has to push away with a shake of his head.

"...Hm?" Something else does catch his eye, though. Enough to warrant him laying the shopping bags from one hand down onto the floor long enough he can rifle through one of the hanger lines.

"Hey, Coalbridge-san?"

Once he has sufficiently gotten the purplenette's attention again, he draws out... well, what might look like something much more normal than most of the options around here. A vest that at least partially seems to try to ape on the tacticool look of some military-esque vests and stuff, but built to wrap along the length of the torso instead of just one's chest, and... with an attached hood made out of the same material. A hooded vest was pretty much what she was looking for, right? Except...

"It's not a snake-head hood or anything, but..." He murmurs while wiggling the vest in indication in his hand. "You could probably find a tailor somewhere filling to modify it, if you wanted?"

"Ah well, your loss."

Daisuke's cold-hearted rejection of two young girls' earnest pleas for wardrobe assistance just earns a shrug from the Mexican. Leaving her two companions to peruse their own sections of the store, she wanders off to see if anything catches her eye. The otaku is much more likely to find something useful for Coco's outfit so she instead focuses on doing some shopping for herself this time.

Most of the stuff she finds lining the walls of this shop are definitely not in the category of things that any normal person would wear on a daily basis. It's either too heavy, too cumbersome, too fragile, or too skimpy. That last one isn't a problem for her, fortunately, and unless there's some memo she missed there aren't any fighting events scheduled to go down on Halloween night so she doesn't necessarily need something that'll last more than day or two.

Angel saunters down the isles, pondering her options. Plenty of fantasy outfits in here that would serve nicely. She's never been much into video games or cartoons but some of these get ups are making her wonder if she might need to reconsider. These definitely aren't made for children to enjoy. Their poor intern is probably going to have a heart attack if she rolls up wearing just about anything here. Which, naturally, spurs her on to find the most cardiac arrest inducing outfit she can locate among her options.

But, as she continues to make her way through the store, the teen suddenly discovers that she recognizes some of the stuff on display. A couple of battered karate gis hang side by side, one in white and the other in red. While it -could- just be a strange coincidence, a further examination of the area she finds herself in reveals further evidence to the contrary.

A Chinese qipao in familiar bright blue. A red vest and ball cap with the words 'Fatal Fury' on the front. A green leotard with a beret. Some kind of hot pink fur-lined jacket and black mini-skirt with generous amounts of skin on display. What looks like military fatigues accompanied by a green tank top.

It's a section devoted entirely to fighter's classic outfits!

Grinning like an idiot, Angel dives into the racks to see what else she can find that's recognizable. Plenty of the people who actually worn these uniforms have faced her in battle. It's a little surreal to see them up for sale as collector's items and costumes. Even more so when she finds copies of her own scandalous attire.

"Wow! I don't know if I should be insulted or flattered."

Of course, the copies aren't exactly correct. Her beloved leather jacket is one of the only remaining genuine B-3 bomber coats from World War II, heavily modified to suit her own unique tastes. The fake chaps look more like they're made out of nylon or some other material that's a lot cheaper than actual leather. Likewise, the big cowboy boots have that tell-tale quality of being designed to be an imitation rather than the real deal.

Moving on, she spies something that makes her grin turn positively evil. What many people might mistake for an ordinary leather jacket and pair of jeans immediately stands out to her as recognizable. After all, her organization has spent the better part of a decade trying to get their hands on the person who wears it.

"So tempting..."

Showing up to an NFG gathering dressed as Kyo Kusanagi would probably baffle most people. But if she could be sure that the man himself would be present, oh, that would be such a delicious way to mock him. Sadly, it's been quite a while since she saw hide nor hair of the boy. Maxima had unexpectedly made an appearance at Abigail's scrapyard a while back but that walking refrigerator has the emotional capacity of... well, a walking refrigerator. Alas, that idea will have to go on the back burner.

But, as it turns out, fortune offers her another far more immediately amusing option. Angel's eyes sparkle with mischief as she lays them upon a true diamond amongst the rough. Snatching the outfit off its rack, she darts for the nearest changing booth to try it on immediately.


"Head's up!"

The warning comes out of the blue giving Daisuke only a scant couple of moments to actually respond before something smacks him in the side of the face like an angry bee. The object in question proves to be a large red and white Japanese folding fan, obviously of cheap manufacture judging by the way it bounces off him like a nerf dart. Tracing the path of the projectile back to its source would reveal the culprit who is making no efforts to hide herself.

On the contrary, Angel stands boldly in view between the aisles clearly intended to draw attention to herself. The form-fitting black catsuit is gone, replaced by something that can only vaguely be described as some sort of kimono - if kimono's were designed by Victoria's Secret perhaps. The bright red dress looks more like a skimpy toga with just barely enough fabric to contain the bounty that is the teen's chest. A thick obi sash is wound round her waist and tied into a massive bow at the small of her back, preventing the loose garment from simply flying open though its efforts seem likely to be thwarted by just about any sort of movement.

And speaking of movement! The moment Daisuke turns his head to seek out the source of this sudden attack, Angel does her best impression of the original owner's famous victory pose, snapping open another of the cheap fans at her side with a flourish that makes her cleavage threaten to break free of its feeble restrains as it bounces about wantonly.

"Nippon ichi, nya~!"

Coalbridge-san is just in the middle of trying on a bright blue wig with a giant ponytail when Daisuke draws her attention in his direction.


She wanders back over to where Daisuke is standing, then turns to look at the vest and hood that he's indicating. "Oh! Yeah, this sort of thing might work," she agrees as she takes the article off of the rack, then hands it to Daisuke, along with a pile of wigs. "I'm sure I can get some sort of Dee-eye-why-savvy person to make it more snake-y and such. Cheers, Daisuke!"

She'd stick around a bit longer, but the truth is, she's noticed Angel perusing the fighter costumes and is keen to get a closer look herself. She heads over in that direction, ending up a bit in the other girl's wake.

She stumbles upon the clear winner just as Angel is disappearing into the changing booth.

"Oh, my, God."

Tittering like a schoolgirl, Coco grabs an entire ensemble off of the rack, then makes a dash back to Daisuke, swiping one of the wigs so swiftly that one can barely tell which one she's nicked. Then, she's off to the other changing booth to begin her costume change sequence.


The pale Brit emerges from the shelter to the sound of faux leather squeaking. Her cowboy boots clip-clop on the cold shop floor as she saunters down the aisle toward the other two, arms swinging at her sides - part of the source of the noise as her tight imitation jacket strains against her bust. The other part, of course, is the artificial chaps that cover all but the least modest parts of her legs, flaunting her bikini-bottomed backside. As she gets nearer, she waves her fingerless gloves at the other two.

And, of course, she's got a platinum-white wig concealing her usual purple hair.

"Isn't this wicked, darlings?! Look! Oh, wow, that looks so hot, Angel! How do I do that thing you do? Somebody should take a picture!"

Clearly amped-up about her imitation - the sincerest form of flattery, it has been said - she brings her fingers up next to her head, forming two Ls. "It's basically like, double loser, right?"

She's trying, but her attempt at copying her mentor's trademark is about as authentic as her clothing. She's also not bothering with copping Angel's accent or verbal tics, which might be best for everyone involved. With her similar eye colour and height and reasonably proximal build, though, she's visually actually pretty close - if Angel were afflicted with a case of vampirism, maybe.

"Right?" Daisuke has the time to offer to Coco in agreement with several rapid nods. The hooded vest is... well, taken back to his hold right after, along with a pile of wigs. "Uh... Didn't you wanna try it on and stuff? I mean, I guess it kinda looks like your size, and someone who knows their stuff probably can do some resizing stuff anyway, I guess...?"

His own thoughts are probably mostly left to hang alone in the air, though, with both Angel and Coco withdrawing into seperate changing rooms for apparent surprise outfit trials.

"... I'll just... wait here, I guess..."

At least time Daisuke doesn't look *that* out of place ,right?

==*== A BIT LATER ==*==

Daisuke's mostly been keeping himself busy idly browsing the other goods on display in the store in the meantime. And playing with a strangely high-tech looking... phone-like thing? A PDA, maybe? He does end up taking a couple pictures of some of the display items, though. Mostly the mannequins that display entire examples of outfit ensembles. Some of those may or may not get sent to some friends he left behind during his trip to Metro -- albeit none of the racey options.

Well, maybe he does take a picture of *one* display with a questionable neckline, but nevermind that. Jury's still out on wether he dares to send that photo to anyone he knows, though.

But then someone yells out a warning to him.


Thankfully the projectile that assaults him is made of fairly soft materials, so he isn't actually (terribly) hurt, even if the surprise of the sting does leave him rubbing one hand at his cheek while he's turning to look at...

...look at...

Well. There is a moment where Daisuke's brain completely fails to decide on just waht exactly he is supposed to look at. His eyes unfortunately spin first to Angel!Mai's chest when she makes that sweeping display of motion that threatens a tragic wardrobe malfunction, before continuing on to flick from place to place over the woman, taking it all in. Enough to cause the poor boy's face to somehow grow redder than it has ever before during today, and--


His finger still on the phone/pda twitched. The camera app was still open. He might not have meant to, but the memory of this sight is now forever inscribed into the memory card within. The realization of *that* having happened does make the boy scramble with embarrassment, too, and on top of all the other shock of this surprise, the device goes bouncing up from his hand.


His hands go chasing after the device, only causing it to bounce up several times over like an incredibly expensive hacky-sack, almost definitely ending up unintentionally swiping some responses from the touch screen all over again, too, before he manages to, finally, firmly catch the thing into both hands.

"U-uhm, that's--!" He sputters out, still as red as can be--

And then Coco comes joining in for the coup de gráce.

Daisuke's gaze similiarly gets pulled in to *her* chest, first, as if there was some kind of gravitational field there. A forceful prying of his gaze to escape that pull only ends up bringing to other unfortunate places down below, before the redhead decides to just outright turn away from the two in an effort to try to hide the rest of his embarrassing reaction, while his other hand slaps to cover up his mouth and nose.

Only thing missing is a big mess of a nosebleed coating his palm. That one's saved for the anime adaptation, though.

"L-l-l-looks g-g-god, g-g-guys..." He manages to mumble out, voice mildly muffled by his own palm, while he quickly slips the phone-pda into his pocket. Hopefully his texting app didn't end up opening again accidentally while he was fumbling with the thing.

Smirking like a cat that got the cream, Angel remains frozen in her victory pose as the poor intern slowly has a small mental breakdown. She's pretty sure she can heard the gears in his head grinding against each other as they all try to spin in different directions at once. The circuits to his conscious decision making circuit blow a fuse and instinct takes over sending his eyes roaming all across her scantily clad body, absorbing every detail.

Whether it be an accident or a subconscious desire to preserve this moment for perpetuity in greater detail than his flustered memory can provide, the boy's phone makes the familiar click of a digital shutter being cycled. Angel's eyebrows lift and her gaze drifts down to the large PDA. Well, that's a fancy little toy. And what, pray tell, was he doing with the camera function open in the middle of a place like this, hmm?

She's about to harass him about just that when another challenger joins the game. The Mexican blinks in surprise, caught off guard for once, but it lasts only a moment. Like Daisuke, she allows her gaze to be drawn to the Brit's new outfit, though she drinks it in with a great deal more calm and interest.

"Wow, your cuteness just increased ten times over, hehe!"

She glances down at the strappy red shinobi suit and cups her breasts, bouncing them on the palm of her hand a couple times.

"I know, right? I don't understand how Mai fights in this thing. It feels like my tatas are going to fall out if I sneeze too hard. Really takes that ninja art of distraction to a whole new level!"

An amused grin tugs the corner of her mouth up as she regards her doppleganger's attempt to mimic her favorite taunt. It's not a bad attempt though it naturally lacks the charm of its original owner's mannerisms.

"Well, I suppose you could look at it that way. But it's supposed to be little devil horns, like this see?"

Daisuke's alarm bells should be ringing at full klaxon in response to that statement. Pretty much every single thing that Angel does oozes overt sexuality and her teasing little taunt is no different. Only now, instead of being clad in a revealing but mostly secure bunch of leather she's wearing an outfit that might literally be designed to facilitate wardrobe malfunctions.

Angel leans forward at the waist, sticking her butt out as she lowers her head towards Coco. Her hands come up to hover at either side of her head in front of her temples, the index finger and thumb extending outwards. Sticking out her tongue, she winks playfully and wiggles the 'horns' of her little gesture a few times.

"It is a sin to be sexy? Then call me the devil~!"

Coco looks pleased with herself at the reaction from Daisuke, even if it's a combined effort with her mentor that elicited it. Her smug smirk turns into a bright-and-shiny smile when Angel expresses her approval of the imitation.

"Aw, ta, Angel! Gosh, that could be problematic," she acknowledges with a sympathetic look toward the other girl's cleavage. "Knowing my luck, I'd be spilling out in a heartbeat because someone got a tiny nick in it or something." It's definitely eye-catching, though, consider how much effort her eyes take to escape capture and observe the real Angel's execution of her signature taunt.

"Oh, I see!"

Of course, Coco takes the opportunity for further practice while she has the live demonstration happening right in front of her. She bends forward at the waist, her own bottom in the air, as she copies the Mexican teen's motions, making better use of the horns now that she understands what they're meant to be.

"Do I make you horn-y, meow? o/~"

Coco punctuates the comment with a wink of her own. Depending on which way the two are facing relative to Intern-kun, he's getting quite the display from both ladies...

After she's made the pose, Coco straightens up and takes a quick selfie for later. She wouldn't want to spoil the surprise for anyone she might decide to spring it on later. It is Halloween season, after all, and she's pretty sure she's sorted her costume.

"Shall we get Daisuke to take one of both of us doing it? Then I can pay for everything and we can go for tea. Unless you two want to do more shopping?"

Looking anywhere in Angel and Coco's general direction feels extremely dangerous right now. THere's a non-zero chance that there are some unrelated onlookers getting attracted nearby, too, but Daisuke is doing his best to not look for too long.

But those alarm bells do, in fact, start going off pretty loudly.

"H-hey, huh?"

He makes the mistake of looking. Just in time for Angel to strike that pose. It's a damn wonder he doesn't just have a heart attack right there, or a nuclear explosion -grade nosebleed attack.

"W-w-wait, the belt's gonna--!" He calls out before turning back again with a burning surge of a blush that somehow makes his face even redder than before. Thankfully the belt will probably actually hold, but Daisuke's first instinct is to prepare for that eventuality anyway and damn near turn his back entirely to the two.

Though that being said, there is still one comment he ends up making after the fact:

"Don't you have the wrong name for that...?"

And for that matter, he can't help but get at least a *quick* peek over his shoulder when he realizes Coco is also proceeding with the pose. He can probably offer only two seconds or so before his heartrate reaches dangerous levels, though. The brit's choice of words definitely doesn't make matters any easier either.

"...Huh? What?" That last bit from the brit does earn another quick peek, though this one is more of a warily curious one. "You want me to take a photo...?"

Daisuke's wild panic is mostly ignored. Even if the costume were to suddenly explode into confetti it wouldn't really shake Angel that much. Hardly be the first time she's been skyclad in public. But, contrary to his worries and perhaps to his hopes as well, the obi holds strong keeping the two flaps of cloth in place as she bends forward to give her pupil a lesson on Angel Taunts 101.

"It's called irony, Intern-kun. Anyways, my name is pronounced An-hel, gringo, so maybe not as far off as it seems."

Her correction doesn't come across as upset or offended. Most people just say it like it looks in English which is fine by her. Sharing the moniker of a divine being of perfection is hardly the worst thing. She's been called a lot less pleasant things than that! And, if she's being honest, her Mexican heritage isn't all that important to her anyways. She grew up on the streets for most of her early childhood, no memory of her parents or any other family until NESTS took her in. After that she spent the rest of her life living in laboratories and going on missions around the world so she never had much time to gain any sort of cultural identity. She can barely even speak Spanish!

Coco's second attempt at her impression is much better and earns a mischievous grin. Angel straightens up and gives her protege a coy look, placing one finger next to her lips as she whispers in a low seductive voice.

"That's my secret, cutie. I'm always horny~."

With that movie reference thoroughly perverted in every sense of the word, Angel saunters over to stand by Coco's side. She whirls to face Daisuke, once again threatening to flash everyone in the store with such swift movement, and leans forward into her taunting motion.

"Comon, kid, one for the road."

When her padawan moves to mimic her again for the portrait, Angel positions herself so that her face is right next to Coco's. One might say suggestively so. Which of course leaves both of them with their exposed posteriors sticking out in opposite directions behind them.

"I'd tell you to make sure and get our good sides," she purrs, winking suggestively and sticking out her tongue. "...but all my sides are naughty, nya~!"

"Well, yes! I can't do the pose and take a selfie at the same time, can I? Here, you can get one on mine too," Coco instructs Daisuke, handing over her own device unlocked. If the intern is particularly nosy he might notice the recent selfies in the phone's camera app. Apparently he's being trusted quite a bit.

Angel manages to get Coco a shade more pink with her reference, looking slightly flustered at the response to her attempt at a What Would Angel Do moment. She's recovered by the time that Angel takes up position beside her, though, and she does her best to mirror the Mexican beauty's positioning, even down to the expression - winking and sticking her tongue out as well as she puts up the devil horns. She leaves the commentary to the pro, though - she's focused on making sure she's in pose for the photos!

Is it just her, or are there also camera clicks coming from behind the doppelganging duo? Ah, well, surely that's nothing to worry about...

Honestly, at this point Daisuke's face is already red enough his reaction to Angel's lewd bastardization of the pop culture reference is basically indistinguishable at this point. One can probably assume that every little thing either her or Coco does by now is running a risk of causing some kind of aneurysm on the poor boy, though.

Be it all as it may, though, the redhead ends up feeling like he kind of has to do this at this point, too, and he sheepishly brings out the high-tech pda again to prepare the camera app in it... and also unexpectedly receive Coco's phone with his other hand. "Um, okay..."

For the record, he doesn't even try to look through the image gallery or anything else on that unlocked phone. Daisuke respects people's privacy!

That being said, in spite of his apprehensions about showing any kind of excitement about all these scandalous outfits, Daisuke does actually take the time to line up a proper composition for the shot. If you're gonna do something, you gotta do it right!

And honestly, Daisuke does kind of want a nice memory out of all this anyway even if he is too scared to admit as much. Even if, once he's handed Coco's phone back to her and taking the time to take a second picture with *his* device, he does still mutter, "Somehow this feels incredibly dangerous..."

He's not entirely sure *why* he feels that way, mind you. But there it is.

Once the familiar *click* of a mobile device's camera shutter rings out a second time, the redhead turns his equally red face away again and grumbles, "Can we go now? Before you get any other funny ideas or decide to try to put me into a costume next..."

Angel remains dutifully posed for her photo op until both cameras have been graced with her image. The sound of other cameras clicking away to her rear doesn't faze her in the least. She might be insulted if there weren't at least a few people mesmerized into trying to sneak in a few dirty candid shots. Pretty much every public appearance she makes on the fighting circuit results in a few hundred new risque photographs being uploaded to the Internet. It doesn't help that her fighting style involves a lot of high kicks and grapples.

If she keeps hanging around and taking fashion advice from someone like Angel, Coco might find herself similarly enjoying that kind of attention. She seems to be enduring it well enough, at least. Her parents might not be quite as pleased when those images start to circulate though.

Daisuke's off-hand complaint earns him a long look from the Mexican, that mischievous glint returning to her pale eyes. She maintains her piercing stare for several seconds, long enough for it to become obvious that he's given her an idea that she didn't have before and now she's considering acting on it. But, as amusing as it would be to stuff the boy into the most scandalous outfit she can find, they're already pushing the limits on what's likely to fit into the motorcycle. Considering how he's reacted to just seeing some skin, she doubts he'd be a particularly good sport about that kind of a prank either. Still, nothing wrong with making him -think- she's gonna do it for a few moments.

"Mmmm... nah. Next time."

Turning on her heel, Angel slinks off towards the changing booth to swap back into her catsuit and boots. A quick stop by the register and a few selfies with some of the shop's customers later she returns with her prize tucked under one arm - a nice costume for Halloween. Not exactly spooky but if left to her own lazy devices she'd probably just half-heartedly wrap herself in gauze and go as a sexy mummy or something that requires an equally low amount of effort. Whatever party she ends up going to will likely end with her out of the costume anyways so why bother with something complicated?

"Well, I think we've accomplished what we came here for! Unless you two want to try and find somewhere to have lunch, we should probably head back."

Log created on 12:52:42 10/22/2023 by Angel, and last modified on 13:11:11 10/31/2023.