3495/Wrestling Ain't Fake

Wrestling Ain't Fake
Date of Scene:	22 September 2020
Location:	Chinatown
Synopsis:	Aimee thought she was safe to walk home. She was wrong. Professional wrestling saves the day. Surprising as it is, Katsumi finds a lot of familiarity in the younger American.
Cast of Characters:	Aimee Alexander, Katsumi Oshiro

---

Aimee Alexander has posed:
The sun had long since set by the time the Chatham Square Library had closed its doors and Aimee was forced to check out the book that had distracted her for the for the better part of a day. The busy noise of the day had faded slightly, though still seemed ever-present, and a cool and gentle breeze wound its way around the teen's body and through the thin material of her shirt leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Perhaps it was the soothing breeze, or perhaps the distraction of her impatience to get home and continue reading; but when an arm slipped around her waist, and a hand over her mouth, Aimee hadn't sensed it coming. Certainly not in time to react. A stifled squeal, a surprised struggling, neither prevented a larger form from dragging the girl into the darkness of an alleyway.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
This Chinese food is oddly sweet.

It's the thought running through Katsumi's head as she wanders along the Chinatown sidewalk, smoothly weaving between bodies. Chopsticks maneuver around the takeout box with the sort of ease one acquires from a lifetime of use. Which, frankly, should go without saying: she's Asian, after all. But the sweetness of the food still hits her as unusual. Leave it to America to carve out a hub of Chinese livelihood, and still manage to somehow Americanize its culture.

Not that she's complaining. She was fully prepared to hate it. But it's nice, being a little sweeter.

She's not really feeling any better about what's been going on. The phases of acute fatigue have continued, hitting inexplicably and hard throughout the days. Her eyes, no longer the radiant gem-like green they're supposed to be, now pale to the point of nearly white, yet oddly flecked in increasingly vibrant purple-ish pink motes along the irises.

These things aren't normal. But she's determined to focus on her career, and the opportunity that's been given her. She just needed to clear her head. A little taste of something more familiar should've helped, right?

Someone grabs a girl up ahead and pulls her into an alley. Another man rounds the corner to go in after them. Katsumi's jaw drops at the brazen display of lawlessness. The remainder of her food is tossed into a bin, and she takes off. She didn't see any weapons. She's a fighter. She can do something about this. And in a way, she /needs/ to. It'll make her feel normal.

Meanwhile, inside the alleyway, the second man to join in sneers. "Pat her down. We don't got all day."

Aimee Alexander has posed:
The panic is almost overwhelming. Instinct more than anything else flails within the teen, *pulls*, and almost as suddenly as it arrived the panic all-but disappears. A more logical frame of mind isn't much help though as the man behind her is joined by another blocking her escape route. Helplessness begins to fester in her chest before it too is abruptly snuffed out.

"Pat her down. We don't got all day."

Aimee's eyes narrow, glaring at the thug who has just spoken. The casual way he speaks, the lack of remorse or regret she can feel from either man, it galls her.

'Pat her down'. She knows that her money isn't worth her life.

'Pat her down'. She should just let them take her wallet, cancel her cards when she gets home.

'Pat her down'. Fucker made the mistake of touching her!

In an instant the panic is back. Her power only works on one person at a time. But panic doesn't prevent her from pushing every ounce of terror she can into her captor's mind. She's less aware of what is happening now, but when the hand over her mouth loosens slightly she *bites*.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Thug 1 is doing his uncivic duty and begins to pat about Aimee's delicate person, uncaring of the sense of violation it likely gives. He's right about to say something unbelievably snarky and cruel about it, when suddenly:

Crumch.

"AAHHH!," screams the man, suddenly wrought with terror! "She's eating my hand!"

Fear does weird things to rationality.

"Shh, shh! Shut the Hell up, idiot, you're gonna attract attention! She's just bitin', hit'er!"

Meanwhile, Thug 1 is desperately attempting to pull away. In his mind, she's a cannibal with shark teeth! Reality will return soon, no doubt, but for now? He's been metaphysically ensorceled.

Things are about to get worse.

"Hey, jackasses!," shouts a girlish voice from the mouth of the alley. There, poised in confident manner with a single fist propped against cocked hips, is Katsumi Oshiro. Long, silky black hair tussles gently in the breeze, her frame almost silhouetted against the gloom of the passage. But her attire can still be made out: simple white sneakers with fluffy socks, hiphugging black short shorts, and a black tanktop stylized with three 'claw' slashes against the chest to give a peek at the layer of fabric beneath. The top is cut high, leaving her trim midsection bare, and her accessories consist of a pair of fingerless leather gloves and a black choker centered with gold coin.

"I'm about to beat you b****es so hard you're gonna scream like a godd*** ringwraith! Who's first!?"

Thug 2 blinks, unsure what to make of this. In fairness, Katsumi doesn't cut an imposing figure. But her confidence is a little jarring. He sneers, despite, and stalks towards her. "You want a turn, kitte-"

Katsumi snatches his right arm at the wrist and twists the joint outwards, forcing his upper-body to pitch forward. She smoothly pivots against his side to isolate the arm, wrenching it backwards into the air while he helplessly follows wherever she leads in a standing fujiwara armbar. Every additional ounce of pressure she applies into the jointlock earns a more panicked cry from the attacker. "Call'em off!"

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee refuses to let go of the fingers between her teeth, the panicing part of her brain starting to recognise a change in circumstance. Tunnel vision impedes her awareness of her saviour, but she *is* distantly aware that Thug 2 doesn't seem to be part of the equation anymore. And Thug 1 is still desperately trying to get away from her. Adrenaline fueled impulse switches from flight to fight, and with a tearing yank her teeth drag along and off fingers; taking some skin and flesh with them.

The teen's first flailing swing stuns her target, more in surprise than anything else. The second one is caught. There is no third before she finds herself on her knees, cradling her abdomen and gasping for the air that a hard gut-punch removed.

There's no follow up. Aimee falls onto her side and peers dazedly up at her attacker. He's backing away from her, hands held up in-front of himself. It's... enough. She blinks slowly, still too doped up on adrenaline to hear what's going on or do much of anything besides trying to refill her lungs.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"DID YOU JUST HIT HER!?," shouts an outraged Katsumi, still wrangling the other thug.

"Gah, help, you moron!"

No longer in physical contact with the girl, Thug 1's mind is becoming his own again. And the sound of panic from his partner-in-crime snags his attention. He turns to find him at the mercy of... well, a skinny Japanese girl. He's about to give him so much crap for this. "Quit playin'!," she fusses as he rushes in, intent on pushing her away.

A pair soles slam into his face, courtesy of a standing dropkick by Katsumi. Which naturally bears Thug 2 down against the concrete facefirst, while she lands mostly leaning on his back.

She cinches on the arm, and something gives. Ooh, Hell, she broke something.

Thug 2 is writhing, clutching his damaged limb. He's out of the fight.

Katsumi quickly pitches to her feet and squares herself with Thug 1, who is also recovering. Her hands raise, fingers splayed and muscles tensed at the ready to catch and maneuver. The two circle, and Katsumi manages to spare a glance to Aimee.

In that second, Thug 1 rushes forward and /nails/ her with a fist, sending the Japanese girl into a stagger. She falters shoulder-first against a dumpster beside Aimee, her hand raised to touch her hurt cheek. The street ruffian charges in, and the girl dips his attempted grab to reposition herself more behind him, hand moving to quickly catch the hair at the back of his head - and promptly collide his brow against the metal of the dumpster.

Repositioning a final time behind his back, she hooks his arms at the elbows, restraining him. Her knees dip, she arches her back, and he's arced backwards, driven against the back of his head and shoulders upon the concrete.

Katsumi remains bridged with him a second or two before releasing, letting him flop unconsciously to the ground while she sits up, heart pounding and softly panting with adrenaline.

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Excitement, both literal and figurative, interrupts Aimee's attempts to catch her breath with its arrival against the dumpster next to where she lays. Still on the ground, the girl does her best to shuffle away from the fighting, thankful that her slowly diminishing panic isn't coming back with this latest close encounter with violence. Though the usually relatively stoic teen can't help her eyebrows lifting in disbelieving awe at the sight of a young asian woman performing a literal pro-wrestling move on her attacker.

There's a pregnant pause, an embarrassing snort and then the tinkle of a slightly nervous giggle that gets abruptly halted. Then a little more silence as Aimee simple stares at Katsumi in bewilderment, before muttering almost questioningly "Uhh... thanks..."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Breathe.

Breathe.

Katsumi looks at the unconscious heap beside her. She reaches out to flick him on the nose. "F***er."

The giggle catches her attention, and her mood shifts quickly from excitement to concern. Katsumi's gaze snaps onto the female on the ground nearby, and she adjusts her position into a kneeling crouch. "Are you okay? He hit you, didn't he? Are you hurt?" She scooches closer and lifts her left hand, palm out. "I'm not gonna hurt ya or anything. I saw'em drag you in here, and, uh..." She glances back to the other groaning attacker, then smirks. "...well, you saw." Her focus returns to Aimee. "Do you need a hospital or anything? What's your name?"

Aimee Alexander has posed:
There's a lack of wariness in Aimee's demeaner as Katsumi approaches that probably seems strange considering all that's just happened. The asian girl's quick-fire questions seem to have the teen jerking to full awareness; but even then she seems utterly unconcerned by the wrestler's presence. Her nose scrunches up, eyebrows pulling down as if trying to meet it as she pokes her tongue out and begins frantically dragging it over her sleeve. "Oh god I hope I didn't swallow anything!"

A few more licks, and the Empath is finally read to start checking herself over. Hands explore her ribs and abdomen, her brow furrowed, but after a cursory expression find nothing and the teen heaves a sigh of relief.

"I'm fine." Her voice already sounds far more calm, and the right edge of her lips quirks up in a faint smile. "Thanks for coming to help. I... I wasn't paying attention and..." She trails off, shaking her head to dismiss the self recrimination, before continuing "I'm Aimee. I'd say it was nice to meet you but given the circumstances..." a wince "...maybe it's better to say I'm *thankful* to meet you?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"What are you- ew, don't lick your sleeve, that's gross!," chastises Katsumi.

Despite it, she reaches her hands out to Aimee, fingers spread invitingly. "C'mon, weirdo," she says. Despite her wording, there's an overtone of sweetness to it her voice. "Cops will probably be here soon. If you wanna stick around to give a report, you can. But I don't wanna get in trouble, and I'd at least be happier knowing you're where more people can see you, and not close enough for these jerks to get ahold of again."

Should her hands be taken, she'll gingerly guide Aimee up to her feet.

"I'm Oshiro Katsumi. You can call me Katsumi, it's cool."

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee huffs, eyes narrowing in affected annoyance as she allows the other girl to help her to her feet. Her voice is a put-upon grumble as she defends herself "Well, *Katsumi*," she stresses the name in acknowledgement "it's grosser to have someone else's blood on your tongue. And then there's AIDs and Hepatitis to worry about. I'll take some Chinatown alleyway dirt on my tongue over those in a heartbeat."

Leaning more heavily than she'd like against the Asian girl, Aimee heaves another sigh. "Sorry, sorry... just... a bit amped up I guess."

Amped up appears to be right; despite, or maybe because of, the danger being over, her legs and arms have begun quaking slightly. "Damn it..." The words are hissed softly to herself, but are perfectly audible nonetheless.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"So learn to spit!," giggles Katsumi. "Fights get bloody. But'cha protected yourself. Whatever ya get, be proud of having a spine when you needed it."

Noting that Aimee's balance seems to be compromised, and easily feeling the tremor in her limbs, Katsumi settles an arm around her shoulders to let her lean against her more comfortably. She begins to very slowly, very carefully, lead her out of the alley. "It got crazy, of course your engine's still going. Have you ever been in a fight before?"

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee snorts derisively at complement to her spine, unable to take much solace in something that might have gotten her killed if not for the timely intervention. She allows herself to lean more heavily against Katsumi as the asian girl's arm wraps supportively around her shoulders and the feeling of the girl's concern gently blankets her senses. It's surprisingly comforting, and almost causes her to miss the question. A stiff headshake is her response.

"I'm just your average rich girl who's never learned any skills with real world value." A derisive snort follows, before she awkwardly tries to hip-bump her saviour "You clearly know what you're doing though. And here I was thinking wrestling was fake."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
There's a gentle grunt of surprise at the hip-bump, but Katsumi doesn't lose her balance, nor halt the progress on the way out. A smirk, however, touches her pink-glossed lips. "Yeah, surprise. Wrestlers are fighters. Especially the Japanese ones." Her hand at Aimee's opposite shoulder gives a gentle reassuring squeeze. "You don't recognize me or anything, do you? Posters or anything like that? The wrestling event coming up soon in this city? I'm with the Japanese team from the NLWF..."

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Offering a somewhat bland grin, Aimee shrugs "Sorry, I don't really follow wrestling. Wasn't much time for it growing up and my parents wouldn't have approved anyway. I can recognise a suplex, but as far as any wrestlers go? I've not got a clue." Eyeing Katsumi out the corner of her eye, the right edge of her lips once again turns up in a subtle little smirk. "But judging by what you did to those two goons, I'd guess you probably have a good shot of winning."

Pausing once the pair are back on the street proper, the Empath makes a slight face that still manages to convey all her displeasure at what she's about to do. "Look, I... I don't want to be a burden, but would you mind walking with me for a bit? Just until..." She trails off, unsure how long it will take for her to feel a bit safer, and despite her prickliness not exactly eager to lose the companionship just yet.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Being the empathic sort that she is, Aimee will be able to sense it. It's not a subtle emotion. It's a lurch of heartache, the sort that risks taking one's breath away. It physically manifests, however, only as a small grimace on Katsumi's otherwise pretty face. "I know how that is...," she murmurs to her, the energy lessened in her voice.

She attempts to distract herself by refocusing on the girl beside her. Thankfully, she gives her an adequate enough diversion. "Yeah. I'm okay with that. I don't know if those idiots have friends with'em or not," she considers. "Do you still need, uh...?," she begins, not quite withdrawing her arm from the other girl, but lessening the pressure to give her a chance to walk on her own without the support.

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Almost stumbling at the abrupt shift in emotion she feels from her companion, Aimee throws a concerned side-eye towards Katsumi. That slight grimace is spotted, and the empath's mouth opens to remark on it...

...then abruptly snaps shut. The implications of those words, 'I know how that is', sap both her will to press the topic and what cheer she was beginning to regain after the assault. When the wrestler's arm loosens its hold slightly she almost reflexively pushes herself a little bit closer. The sudden dour mood making the teen reluctant to lose the comfort of human contact, and rationalise that maybe it will help Katsumi too.

"Sorry..." Whether it's for bringing the mood down or for still 'needing' her saviour's support is left ambiguous. Her brow furrowing slightly, Aimee reaches for a hopefully less fraught conversation topic.

"So... if you're on posters everywhere you must be pretty famous. Am I allowed to ask for an autograph?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
It's a weak smile Katsumi offers the girl as she feels her push a little more against her. The arm resettles securely around her shoulders. "Don't sweat it. I got'cha," she reassures.

Her casual vernacular would easily belie her heritage as Japanese. In fact, her grasp of English is basically flawless. Only the faintest hint of accent colors her delivery on occasion. Otherwise, it's a simple, metropolitan dialect carried no the wings of a girlishly sweet voice.

Nevermind that she was just using that voice to say horrible, crude things.

"Yeah," she nods. "Pretty famous." Not /very/ famous, but pretty famous. At least, in Japan. In the States, mileage may vary depending on industry enthusiasts. She's proud of what she's accomplished, though, and for it to be commented on causes that to swell a little. Along with a dose of flattery. Bombastic nature aside, she might actually be a little humble.

"And you totally are. You could eBay it for some nice cash. Get something good outt'a this totally crappy night."

As they walk, pedestrians tend to move out of their way. It may not be obvious what happened the further they get from the crimescene, but between Katsumi's scuffed cheek and Aimee leaning against her, they know it's best to let them carry on unimpeded.

"What do you do, by the way? Like, for a job or whatever."

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee scoffs softly at the suggestion she ebay the autograph, brows pulling down slightly in annoyance, but doesn't immediately remark on it. Katsumi's question however draws a snort out of her, and with an awkward shrug she answers.

"Right now? Live on my parents dime. It's my year of freedom before I'm expected to go to university and make them proud." There's a tone of self-deprecation to her words, and perhaps a touch of resentment. "Law and politics. Not what I would've chosen for myself, you know? But then... I don't know what I *would* choose if I could, so does it matter?"

She sighs and shakes her head, and it seems as if perhaps that's all she's going to say until she finally remarks "I don't want an autograph to sell. What do I need more money for? I just thought it would be nice to have a reminder of the person who saved me." Allowing herself a faint smirk, she can't help but cheekily add "Plus, you know, bragging rights."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
There's another deep pang when she talks about university. Katsumi's oddly-hued gaze lowers to her feet, her bangs falling into a wispy curtain around her face. "It sounds really boring," she admits, "but they.. just want what's best for you. You know? To be successful and happy." Even if they don't understand what makes you happy.

God, it's surreal. It's like she's helping a younger, American version of herself, back in time. Maybe she would've benefitted from a little bit of encouragement then. Maybe she wouldn't be carrying this veritable chasm of an emotional scar now.

She steals a glance back at Aimee's face, peeking through the aforementioned bangs. Her free hand lifts to draw the curtain of silky hair back over her shoulder and behind an ear. "Just enjoy the fact that you've got people who," conspicuous beat, "love you enough to do that for you." There's a light pat of her hand against Aimee's shoulder, an attempt to be reassuring about her life's direction.

Now. Back to burying that hurt.

"Anyway, you got it. I won't let'cha get away without having something. But, hey, how old are you, anyway? Eighteen?"

Aimee Alexander has posed:
A complex look twists at Aimee's face; more of an expression than the girl has worn all evening. Her mouth opens and closes multiple times as she tries and fails to find the words to express herself. Despite how wrong everything Katsumi is saying sounds, despite how wrong it *feels*, all she eventually manages is a weak "Right..."; the teen not really believing the wrestler's words but suddenly desperately *wanting* to, now that someone else is telling her exactly what she always hoped.

A quick shake of the head accompanies her attempt to move her thoughts on, just in time to catch the question about her age.

"Almost. Eighteen in October actually. One and a half weeks..."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro lets the first traces of a smile back onto her face. "I thought you might've been younger. But you've got one've those faces, makes it hard to tell. Like that bucktooth'd mouthbreather who did the Twilight movies. Not that you have /her/ face, I'm just saying you have one of those faces. Oh my god, did she /ever/ close her mouth in the entire series?"

Katsumi tries to mimic the expression, upper-lip raising to emphasize her front teeth, and jaw vaguely slack. Her gaze drifts off for miles, vacantly staring at nothing. And then she's giggling, looking back at Aimee. "Right?"

This is more Katsumi in her native element, feeling a little more comfortable being snarky about something. No more painful talk, no more reflecting on the things - and people - she gave up to be where she is now. Just enjoying the fact that she has someone to be impish with. Someone who seems to at least be grateful to have her around. It's a nice change of pace from the imposed isolation from the rest of Team Japan.

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee can't help the snort that precedes her choked giggle, and does her best to fight the twitching of her lips. It's a losing battle, and she's very obviously doing a bad job of trying not to grin as she watches Katsumi's impression.

"I mean, she's an actress right? As far as capturing the look of a vapid teenage bimbo she about nailed it with that look of confused constipation." The teen's shoulders noticably relax; scathing remarks and snarky jokes being something of a comfort-zone for her. Grinning, and playfully nudging the wrestler with an elbow, Aimee teases "You did a pretty good job of nailing that look yourself..."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Despite it, Katsumi giggles with the nudge and elbowjab. It's not fair, her ribs are defenseless from this position! "Oh my God, I will tilt-a-whirl backbreaker you /so hard/," she fake-fumes at the girl beside her. Even as she makes the 'threat', she's lightly squeezing Aimee's shoulders.

"Okay, real question. Remind me your name?" She honestly can't remember if she told her or not. Adrenaline was running pretty high just earlier. But she does want to know her name, at least! It'll help when making the memorabilia. "And where exactly am I taking you? You know I just picked a direction and started walking, right? And- hey, do you need food? I hear caffeine is supposed to calm down nervous people or something, I dunno."

Aimee Alexander has posed:
"Aimee. Aimee Alexander." An eyebrow arches almost challengingly, as if daring the wrestler to forget a second time. Still, the grin from the joking around remains, softening into a barely-there smile. "I'm uhh..." She tails off, looking around to try and recognise where she is and having absolutely no luck.

"Shit. Where are we?" Rather than worried, the teen looks perhaps a touch embarrassed more than anything else, a faint flush alighting on her pale cheeks. "I'm living in Tribeca, Leonard street? Uhh, if you know where that is? I mean, not that you need to take me *home*, I mean... yeah. Food... food sounds real good. Maybe no coffee or tea though."

As if suddenly realising her own hunger, the girl nods decisively. "Food! My treat! A thank you for being my saviour. Deal?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Aimee Alexander," Katsumi repeats back to her.

And then she freezes, those unusual eyes widening. "What! Girl, you /do/ realize I'm Japanese, right? From Japan? I don't live here, I don't know crap!"

It's subtle, but since Aimee revealed her age, a mental trigger has been flipped. Self-censorship is underway. Aimee's not so young that she gets the coddled treatment and full-blown nurterer mode, but she's young enough that Katsumi's trying to present her best side. It's not disingenuous. Katsumi's extremely self-aware around younger people, is all.

The mention of food calls to mind the fact that Katsumi had thrown away the meal she was having in favor of rushing to the girl's aid. So food sounds pretty stupendous right now. She glances around the area, noting a few restaurants, as well as street vendors. "In the mood to sit for a minute? Or grab something while we walk?"

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Despite looking obviously sheepish, Aimee is also very clearly grinning. "Right! My bad, of course you don't know Manhattan any better than I do. It's fine, that's what smartphones are for! Anyways, why're you asking me what I want? I'm the one treating *you*, hero. Remember?"

Taking the time herself to glance around, she bites her lip and adds "Maybe we should sit though. At least until I figure out what direction we should be walking in?" Another playful nudge finds Katsumi's ribs as she teases "Sides, gets me out of suplex range", an eyebrow waggle accompanying the joke.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro's bare ribs are nudged yet again, and the Japanese woman giggles helplessly. "What, never heard of a sidewalk slam? What'm I saying, of course you haven't. Poor uninitiated thing," sighs the diva.

All the while, she breezes right past the 'hero' remark. At least externally. Internally, it flutters her heart. Sure, it sounded sarcastic in delivery, but to be thought of in that light is a very new experience for her. Even if she has to ascribe sincerity to it.

She begins redirecting the two of them, leading towards a nice, but inexpensive restaurant offering a large assortment of dishes. They're immediately ushered to a corner booth, and Katsumi pauses at the table. Unsure what to do exactly. But she finally attempts to gently deposit her 'passenger' onto one of the benches, leaning over her.

"Feeling any better..?," she asks, voice softening a few degrees.

Aimee Alexander has posed:
A playful roll of her eyes is Aimee's response to the question of whether she knows what a 'sidewalk slam' is. Otherwise, she's content to just lean against Katsumi and allow the other girl to lead the way.

Sitting is perhaps a little awkward, since she's perfectly able to seat herself while the wrestler seems to be at pains to carefully set her down. A faint flush rises once more in her cheeks, and she quickly shuffles over on the bench to both get away from the fussing she isn't sure how to deal with and to make room if Katsumi wants to sit next to her rather than across from her.

"Yeah, it's... I feel less like a trembly..." she snaps her fingers repeatedly as the word she's wanting eludes her momentarily "like a trembly fawn, you know? Still a little on edge but... better." Not really wanting to linger on her own weakness, the teen brushes her hair on the side closest to her companion behind her ear as she peers at her "So... what are we ordering?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro does, in fact, slide in beside her. She'd considered sitting opposite to her, but a small twinge of residual protectiveness won out in the end. If the local thuggery were to appear again, she'd rather they see her and not their mark.

The waitress is already lingering nearby, and upon spotting Katsumi, she begins speaking in Chinese. Katsumi looks dumbfounded at first, and gradually narrows her eyes. "Hey. Yeah. Hi. /Japanese/," she emphasizes. The older woman looks instantly mortified at the faux-pas. "You're killing us both, here. Come on."

The waitress turns to scurry away as apologetically as possible.

Katsumi places an index finger and thumb against her brow, vexed. "Well, that was a special kind of awful." Her eyes slant across to Aimee as she tucks her hair, and the corner of her lips raise again in a small smile. "Sesame chicken. You?"

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee winces a little, feeling the mortification of the waitress before the woman makes her escape. Turning her attention back to Katsumi, she smooths away the remains of her wince and nods her head towards where the waitress was "Couldn't call it a genuine American experience without a little accidental racism, right?" There's no real humor in her voice, and she shrugs as if to say 'what can ya do?'

A quick glance at the paper brochure menu folded on the table has her sighing. "I don't really know anything about asian cuisine. Or, actually, any specific cultural cuisine besides French I guess. Mama made sure I knew French... So what do you recommend for a beginner?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro exhales a huff of a sigh and shakes her head. "Do I look Chinese to you?"

She maintains a critical look for just a couple seconds before bursting into giggles. She's apparently not authentically bothered by it. "Got an allergy to sesame seeds or poultry? If not, get the same thing I am. It's light, tastes good, comes with rice... or it better. Do fried rice with it."

A new waitress arrives and sheepishly greets them before asking for their drink order.

"Water. And..." She looks curiously to Aimee.

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee's response to the question of whether Katsumi looks Chinese is a blank stare with a raised eyebow, an attempt at a 'how the heck should I know' without being so brazen about it. The wrestler's critical look is matched, though Aimee's own stare is just beginning to falter when her companion giggles and defuses the tension. Allowing herself a soft snort of amusement, the teen shakes her head in the questions about allergies and quickly finds her attention diverted to the new waitress.

"Just water for me too." A beautific smile forms out of nowhere on the teen's face, and she shuffles about to pull her wallet out of the back pocket of her jeans. Sliding a platinum visa card onto the table in a rather obnoxious gesture, her smile widens a little further as she adds "We'll be having the Sesame Chicken. With fried rice of course. Domo arigato Waitress-san!"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
It's the waitress's turn to give them a blank stare, uncertain if she's being insulted or joked at. So after a jarring amount of silence, the woman forces a laugh and picks up the card before shuffling away.

Katsumi bursts into laughter as soon as she leaves, then pivots on the bench to face Aimee, one knee tucked beneath her. "That was awful!," she fusses without actually fussing, prodding a finger against Aimee's ribs this time. And despite her words, she's radiating mirth and approval.

Aimee Alexander has posed:
The bright smile immediately melts off Aimee's face as soon as the waitress turns her back, but Katsumi's laughter manages to salvage the expression; allowing it to settle into a soft, if smug, grin.

Squirming at the prodding, the teen admits "It *was* awful. And you are clearly a terrible influence on me." Despite the words themselves, her tone is one of playful affection. "This is... I don't think I've had this much fun in... hell, maybe over a year?" That thought is a bit of a downer, and thus is immediately discarded in favour of playfully lamenting "Pity I can't keep you around. A bodyguard who *genuinely* laughs at my jokes? Invaluable!"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro rolls her eyes, but with that toothy smile persistent on her face. "I'm not a bad influence. I'm a /hero/," she teases.

But the mood dims a little at Aimee's admission. Most fun she's had in over a year? "Wh-.. wait, seriously?," she asks. Her gaze flicks downwards briefly, then back up to her face. "How's your stomach?," she asks, as if to remind her that someone just hit her there minutes ago - hard. The unspoken question is obviously 'just how bad is your life normally?' Even before she began wrestling, she'd be hard pressed to call eating a fist a good way to spend an evening.

Granted, she never really had anyone to laugh with.

Aimee Alexander has posed:
"How's my stomach?" There's genuine confusion in Aimee's voice, and a cute little frown as she looks down at herself before remembering the punch. "OH! Oh, gosh, no. That's fine. It just winded me is all. I mean, I guess it might be a bit tender for a few days but to be honest I've gotten worse injuries doing ballet."

Lifting her gaze back to Katsumi's, and finding that neither the feeling of worry radiating from the wrestler nor the concerned gaze have abated, the teen tries her best to try figure out what exactly is causing it. "Is it... oh, the 'over a year' thing?" Her eyes widen and she quickly lifts both her hands to make a placating gesture "Woah woah woah, uhh, I didn't mean that my Parents hit me or anything. Or anyone else for that matter. I'm a violence-free-zone usually! I just..."

She makes a face, brows furrowed as she chews on her lip "I really had to work my ass off to graduate early. I didn't really have time for... hanging out. And I don't really know that the people I thought were friends really were anyway. I wanted a year of freedom, graduating a year early was the way I had to get it. Sacrificing a bunch of fair-weather friendships with vapid little bimbos who'd be right at home in Twilight wasn't much of a hardship." Despite her words it seems like maybe there was more hardship than she'd prefer to admit, to Katsumi or herself.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro watches her intently as she tries to explain, and in the end, the grappler exhales a soft sigh with a shake of her head. "You're so..." She pauses, trying to land on a decent word to capture her feeling. "...diligent. Wish I were a little more like you when I was your age. I was all fixed on wrestling. Wanting to /be/ a wrestler. Willing to do anything to get that shot."

The waitress hurries back with the water, then scampers off again without a sound. She might be afraid of them at this point.

Katsumi delicately pokes at the glass with a fingertip. "I hope you stay that way."

Aimee Alexander has posed:
"You need to work on your complement game." Aimee's words are deadpan, and her face fairly blank except for a slightly raised eyebrow. She takes a sip of water from her glass more for something to do than out of any thirst, and there's only the faintest of trembles in her hand as she does so.

The teen's brows furrow for a few moments, before finally she huffs an almost irritated sigh and declares "I don't think you should be so hard on yourself. You have this passion, like you've got this dream, and if you're all the way over here doing some big international wrestling thing I think it's safe to say that you're working hard at it." Brow still furrowed, she turns to face Katsumi properly and adds "Don't sell yourself short to try make me feel better. Nobody makes their dreams come true without hard work, and at least you know what your dreams *are*."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro looks at her with a surprised blink. Was she paying her a compliment? She didn't actually realize it if she were. She never thought of 'diligence' as a compliment. Hot is a compliment. Nerdy isn't. Right?

She's overthinking it.

Button nose crinkles, and Katsumi shakes her head. "It's not that I'm hating on what I'm doing. It's that getting what I have cost me everything." She turns on the bench to face Aimee better, tucking her knee beneath herself again. "You love your family, right? I did, too."

It's a rare moment of genuine vulnerability. Maybe it's easier to share because Aimee's a little younger.

"...Getting what I'm saying?"

Aimee Alexander has posed:
The mixed flash of emotions that make their way over Aimee's expression indicate that, at least to some degree, she very much gets what is being said. That her expression eventually settles into one of anger might not be expected.

"Do I love my family? Of course I do." The words are said with an overly-careful calm, and hardly a moment after they're said her lips curl into something aproximating a snarl. "Do *they* love *me*? *That's* the $5000 question. Shouldn't they care more about my happiness than their stupid fucking legacy? I'm their daughter!" The resentment, simmering under the surface, finally breaks her control with those last three words. They're shouted, almost desperately. The teen feels her gaze beginning to blur and turns her head away, reluctantly using her power on herself for the second time this evening to try push everything back down inside herself; at least until she can deal with it in private.

"Sorry." The apology doesn't quite sound insincere, but there's also no real emotion behind it.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Similarly, it may seem odd that Katsumi isn't experiencing much surprise at the response - just more sadness. "Yeah... that sounds /really/ familiar...," she says finally.

Turning ahead again, she lifts a hand to draw a few stray wisps of hair behind an ear. "It's like listening to myself in English dub." She reaches for the water to take a mild sip in an effort to buy herself enough time to decide whether or not she should go into details.

For whatever reason, she decides to share more of her secret life with her. Maybe it's because they seem so similar.

"I was adopted. And I /loved/ wrestling. They wouldn't let me go near it. Hated that I was so into it. So I wound up doing more music. I love music, too, don't get me wrong.. but wrestling's my passion. My blood." She taps a finger on the tabletop. Tap. Tap. She carries on sullenly, "I went to university and was doing fine. But when a totally random chance landed in front of me to try to make my dream happen, I took it. And it went really... really well."

She leans back into the cushioning of the bench, head tipping to stare up at the ceiling.

"I eventually had to drop university to get serious about it. And I had to tell'em. There on the spot, they disowned me. Told me I had no home there, to not call them, or... anything. And I've tried, y'know? But they don't answer. Or if they do, and they hear it's me, they hang up."

She's become practiced at burying all outward expressions of emotional hurt. But Aimee has an unfair advantage in being able to sense it. Katsumi is /devastated/ by what happened; cripplingly wounded.

Aimee Alexander has posed:
"Fucking... fuck..." It *isn't* fair that Aimee can sense Katsumi's hurt. It's a violation and, more than that, it makes the teen feel guilty for being able to turn her own hurt off when needed while the wrestler is stuck feeling it. The control her power gives her is already slipping when she just gives up, feeling tears starting to well up in her eyes once more almost immediately.

A heavy silence hangs in the air before finally Aimee tries to say something to improve the mood. "Well, if... if people can apparently choose who their family *aren't*. Then... people should be able to choose who their family are, right?"

Her speech is a little stilted, and she's mostly trying to cobble together ideas she's heard before rather than coming up with anything profound herself. "Fuck them all. Their fucking loss. You're awesome. And lovely. And you *saved* me. You're a fucking hero. So... for... for what it's worth... you've got me?"

She sounds *nervous*, uncharacteristically so, and her body is visibly tense. She's preparing for more hurt. "I... I mean, like, I've always wanted an older sister, you know?" The words themselves don't necessarily have the ring of truth to them, but the sentiment seems absolutely genuine at least.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro winces slightly when she says people should choose who their family are. People have been choosing. They've been avoiding her. And it's because she keeps screwing things up. She keeps making people angry, she keeps hurting people, she keeps ruining positive relationships. It's no one else's fault but hers.

Her eyes close; another attempt to center herself. She can't crack. She won't.

Her eyes open again, and her head tilts to look at Aimee with a blink. She's a hero? She did save her, didn't she? She'd never really done that before. And though what she's saying doesn't necessarily pass the sniff test, Katsumi appreciates what she's trying to do. Enough so, in fact, that she does something uncharacteristic, herself.

Her left arm reaches for Aimee's shoulders, attempting to tug her in against her side for a lingering hug. "S'nice of you to say." She means that. Her head tilts to lightly bump her cheekbone against her scalp. No, personal bubbles don't exist with her.

"But I think you meant younger sister." She releases the shoulders and puts on a weak, but impish, grin.

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee's giggle sounds a little watery, but it's genuine enough. Leaning into Katsumi's side she rolls her eyes and snarks "I could believe you *act* like one, but there's a few too many wrinkles for it to be believable." Almost immediately she looks up, eyes still watery but a cheeky little grin in place to take any sting out of her words.

Studiously turning her gaze back towards her drink, she shrugs and admits "Maybe... maybe I don't really care about having a sister. Would be nice to have a real friend though. Family stuff would hurt less if I had... well, anyone."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Tch, I'm Japanese. I don't show age until seventy." Then it's all the age, all at once. Katsumi uses her free hand to tug down an eyelid and poke her tongue out at Aimee. She's obviously mature, yes.

Withdrawing at last, the diva purses her lips and, regretfully, nudges a knee against the other girl's. "You know I'm only here for a little bit, right?," she gently reminds. "..People might think it's weird anyway. I wouldn't want'em getting ideas about me. Or you."

"But we can still talk," she offers, quickly looking back to Aimee. "You know, Twitter and stuff."

Aimee Alexander has posed:
"You know... I kinda actually *had* forgotten you're not sticking around." Aimee heaves a sigh, and slumps just slightly. "You speak English *really* well, you know? Better than most Americans, that's for damn sure..."

She reaches to take another sip of her water, and tries to discretely wipe her eyes while she does. "But yeah, there's emails and stuff. It'll be nice to know there's someone out there who can relate."

Another sip, then a soft snort as she tilts her head to once again look at Katsumi "Guess people *would* give me weird looks if this pale little white girl was introducing a Japanese pro-wrestler as her sister, huh?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Oh, if /only/ that'd be what they thought was weird," Katsumi cringes. She twists at the waist to focus more on Aimee, and her hands lift, fingers a-splay. "They might think there's something 'illicit' going on," she proposes, fingers giving a spooky wiggle. Her hands drop, and a somber smile edges her lips. "No, but I was ready to go full ape on that guy for punching you. That's just... unbelievable."

At this point, the waitress returns with two servings of sesame chicken, arranging it before them. She then hurries away!

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee's response gets derailed by the arrival of the waitress, and the teen can't help but frown after the woman as she quickly makes herself scarce again, having felt her discomfort. "She's not *really*... I mean... *is* she scared of us?" Shaking her head slowly in disbelief the looks down at her chicken. "Uhh, Ita...dakimas...? Right? That's... I'm not trying to be racist, that's what you're... I mean I know this is a chinese restaurant but you're Japanese and..."

Shaking her head and waving her hand as if to clear away her concerns, she muses on Katsumi's earlier words. "Illicit huh? I assume you mean less human-trafficking and more..." She trails off awkwardly. "I mean, you know, current year argument. If they think girls doing that stuff together is weird they are going to be in for a *shock* when they realise girls can get *married* to each other in the State of New York. I'll have to get used to it either way I suppose." It's left unsaid, though probably obvious, why.

"Guess things like that might be bad for your career though hey?" The teen offers a quick smile to the wrestler before turning her gaze back to the delivered meal and staring at it as if she's unsure where to begin.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Don't worry about'er. They're probably scared of us, and that's okay." Katsumi bobs a single shoulder casually. But she cants her head towards Aimee. "It's more that you're.. um.. young. Right? How old are you again?" She said, didn't she? "I- I mean, let's be real, my entire career's built on laying on top of other women while exposing a lot've skin, so.." She brushes a hand against the side of her neck. "..it's not like I'm weirded out or anything. And people do an awful lot of shouting when it's time to pin..."

Oh, look, a distraction! Katsumi deftly snatches up the provided chopsticks, then glances to Aimee. Is she going for the sticks or the provided fork?

"Don't be lame. Use the sticks."

Aimee Alexander has posed:
"I'm eighteen in a week and a bit. I guess it didn't really occur to me that you might be, like, in your 30s or something. You have that weird Asian eternal youth thing going on, I can never guage how old you guys are."

Side-eyeing Katsumi, and giving her a cheeky wink, Aimee returns her focus to her dinner, allowing the awkward conversation to drop. She still looks like she's tempted to use the fork, but with the words of... 'encouragement', she heaves a sigh and picks up the sticks.

"I kinda vaguely know how to hold these, but don't expect me to be any *good* with them. Any pro tips?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro stares at the chicken for a moment, then aside to Aimee, brow knit. "I'm twenty-two," she replies. "My birthday was last month."

The prongs of her sticks poke at the bed of rice for a moment before she sets them down. The Japanese starlet scoots aside to Aimee, and she carefully reaches to set her hands over the other girl's. "Like this..." She adjusts the bottom stick to rest naturally behind her index knuckle, the other setting as the guide. "There..." She tilts her head to look back at Aimee's face. "Feel that?"

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee bites her lip, her nod short and sharp and her gaze fixed intently on the chopsticks. A faint blush begins to form on her cheeks, but a flex of power brings it under control. No need to make things *weird*.

"So apparently I actually had no idea how to hold chocksticks properly... who knew?" She glances back to the chicken, frowning in concentration "I mean, you know I feel like this really would be way easier with a fork. Just sayin..."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Nothing worth doing is ever really easy...," Katsumi murmurs. "Forks are stuff everyone around here uses. Chopsticks takes care. Skill."

She withdraws her hand slowly from Aimee's, and she eases back a little from her again. "Bob your finger and use it to pinch. Make a little shovel with the tips for the rice, but try to keep it all clumped together. If you separate the rice, you're in for a Hell of a time. 'Kay?"

Aimee Alexander has posed:
"I..." There's a pregnant pause, then Aimee sighs in defeat, carefully doing her best to try shovel up a clump of rice.

"Would be easier to just use my fingers..." Her voice sounds a little sulky, but the look she quickly shoots Katsumi's way to check for a reaction makes it seem like she's mostly just trying to stir. Slowly lifting the sticks to her mouth, she darts her head forward to grab the rice in her mouth before she can drop it, and then prepares for another shovel while she chews.

"Mmmf." It sounds like she likes the rice at least.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
The rice should be fine! It's fried rice, after all. More flavor than white rice. And seeing that sulky little moment in Aimee gets a teasing moue of Katsumi's lips before she focuses on the food, herself. Being a lifelong user of chopsticks, this presents no challenge to her. She nips up the food easily, and seems to nod in approval to the flavor balance. It's still /very/ sweet compared to what she's used to, but she suspects it's pretty normal for Aimee. She steals another peek her way, mouth shut while she chews.

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee chews thoughtfully. It being her first time eating the dish she seems very particular about taking her time and forming an opinion. And then she decides to try some chicken. Her first attempt at pinching it between the chopsticks doesn't succeed. Attempt number two works well enough, but she still looks as if she's terrified the chicken will fall at any moment.

The teen exhales heavily through her nose in what seems to be relief as the chicken finally makes its way safely into her mouth. Tilting her head slightly, she nods to herself a few times before turning to look and see if Katsumi is enjoying the meal.

She gestures with her chopsticks, "Mmnf," frowns, and forcefully swallows the chicken so she can talk.

"Good?"

And then regrets it, her eyes squinting and her free hand hitting her chest "Uuugh shoulda chewed that more...", wincing at the feel of the large mouthful making its way down her throat far too slowly for her liking.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro chirps a simple, carefree, "Mmhm!," as she continues eating. Her manner of eating is polite, by Japanese standards. Chopsticks require a different, modestly feverish manner. And in fairness, Katsumi was hungry after her dinner was interrupted before.

Though she's distracted when Aimee is clearly struggling. She's still breathing, at least! So the Asian Sensation tilts her wrist to neatly tap the tips of her chopsticks against the base of the glass, helpfully directing her attention to take a drink.

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Nodding her head, Aimee grabs her glass and gulps down the rest of it. Her eyes close, she hisses, but after a few seconds her shoulders are slumping in relief.

"Maybe I should finish this and *then* talk, huh?"

Looking only the slightest bit sheepish, the teen digs back in to her dinner;chopsticks still moving slowly, but gradually increasing in speed as she grows in confidence. No more attempts to swallow too much at once though, probably fortunate since her glass is now empty. By the end of her meal there's almost certainly more little bits of rice spread all around than Katsumi has left, but she hasn't done a terrible job for a beginner.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro isn't going to give her crap about it, regardless! Katsumi's proficiency isn't something she'll lord over her. At least this time.

Food finished, Katsumi leans back into the bench and exhales a breezy sigh. There are a few moments of silence before she slants her gaze aside to Aimee. "Are you sure I can't get you back for this?," she asks finally. "I'm pretty sure heroes aren't supposed to be rewarded. Unless they are. I dunno, I've never been anyone's hero before..."

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Laying down her chopsticks, Aimee angles herself toward Katsumi and leans back against the corner where wall meets the back of the bench.

"Heroes aren't suppost to do things *for* a reward, but I think accepting one that was offered would probably be polite, right? So long as it wasn't an unreasonably large reward. Sides, I've decided we're friends now. So this is me buying my friend, who just happens to be my hero too, dinner." She tilts her chin up, looking her dinner companion in the eye challengingly. Then the look is ruined by the grin pulling at her lips and with a playful eyeroll Aimee lowers her chin and shrugs.

"Look I mean, if you're feeling uncomfortable about it, then sure. You can owe me one. I don't want you feeling bad when I'm just trying to do something nice. Otherwise..." She shrugs again, and her grin softens into a smile. "...Don't sweat it. It's only money."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro meets her gaze, frowning slightly. Well, she can't turn her down now. She has to go with it!

And then when Aimee gives her an out, Katsumi actually laughs. "Oh my God, shut uuup!," she chastises. "I'll let you do it! You'll make me feel guilty if I don't! I'll just have to not make a habit of rescuing you!" She gasps suddenly. "Or I /do/ make it a habit, and I never have to buy food again!"

Suddenly, there's an index finger prodding in Aimee's direction. Destination: the tip of her nose. Boop. "As long as you don't start thinking I'm poor."

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee goes slightly cross-eyed as her eyes follow Katsumi's fingertip, apparently not expecting a boop of all things. Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, she lifts her hands in surrender "Hey now, I'm more than well aware that only one of us here actually has a job. So just don't go thinking I'm so spoilt trust fund kid, and we can call it a deal yeah?"

Her smile works its way back into a grin. "But in any case, if you really want to make a habit of rescuing me, I suppose that means I'll have to make a habit of getting myself into trouble huh? Sounds fun! When do we start?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"We start by getting you home, safely. No more gut-punches for you," Katsumi chides.

She slides out of the bench and steps aside, making room for the younger girl to follow suit. "But, um. Thanks. For the food." It's an awkward delivery, and she seems to chew on the words a little as they're said. Simply put, she's not accustomed to showing gratitude.

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee snorts in amusement as her teasing gets shot down but otherwise seems content to say nothing. As she shuffles herself off the bench she can't help another eyeroll at Katsumi's awkward thanks.

"Katsumi. Seriously. It's no big deal."

She seems to chew on her thoughts for a moment, before awkwardly reaching out to try grab one of the wrestler's hands in both of her own, looking squarely in the older girl's eyes either way.

"Seriously though, thank *you*. I mean that. I... I really mean that. I'm sure you weren't the only person that noticed what happened, that street had plenty of people on it. *You* were the one that came though. So forget the meal okay? Or I'll... I'll buy out all your merchandise at your next show!"

The way she says that threat leaves no doubt that she really would.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi had started to turn to lead the duo on out, only for her hand to be taken. "Ah-?" She stops short and turns, giving Aimee her full attention. Their eyes meet, and the errant, if temporary, do-gooder falls silent as she speaks.

Then there's a smile; it's soft, warm. She's touched. She hadn't really thought of getting accolades of any kind when she ran into the alley. She just saw someone get grabbed by some jerks and was the right amount of angry and tense. But this makes it all feel somehow more momentous, more important. And looking back into her eyes, she can tell that it meant a lot to her.

"Okay."

Her voice is as modest and sincere as her smile. Her free hand raises to gently set to Aimee's shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"Buy my s*** anyway."

Aimee Alexander has posed:
Aimee beams at the sincere acceptance of her thanks; certainly it's the largest smile she's worn all evening. Then the giggles burst forth at Katsumi's final remark.

"A-all of it? You realise... I really will, right? I mean I figured you'd want your fans to be able to support you in the audience or whatever, but... if you really want me to buy it *all*..." Her voice is teasing, taunting even. But the teen does still seem like she's not entirely joking.

Slowly making her way towards the entrance of the restaurant, and trying not to smirk when she notices the glances being thrown their way by the waitress, Aimee falls quiet for moment; perhaps mulling over all the events so far of a rather eventful night.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro uplids her gaze at Aimee slightly. "Don't get /all/ of it. Gotta let some other people have things." Was she taking her seriously? Maybe a little.

But Katsumi walks with her to the exit, simply ignoring the looks. The poor staff are likely very relieved to be rid of the troublemakers. It's not really important to the Punk Princess. She has someone to deliver home!