Around Town to Pixie Dust, Monday Morning

[thismaskiwear]

It'd been long enough since the last crop of newbies that Katchoo thought she knew most people on the island pretty well on sight now. She never went out of her way to speak to most of them, granted, but she made it a point to at least recognize what they looked like; it made it easier to take note of anyone out of the ordinary. Which was to say, people who weren't supposed to be there. So far, even for the people she hadn't recognized, that hadn't proved to be a problem as far as she could tell.

She was just stepping out of the Kwik Stop, a carton of cigarettes under one arm, when she caught sight of someone who did look familiar, in a way that wasn't at all welcome. Black leather jacket, long blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, six-plus feet of pure muscle -- not an unusual description for the sort of person who might end up in Fandom.

Except that Katchoo knew this one from the two years she'd spent in L.A. This . . . was not good.

At her heels, Clocky beeped questioningly, and the look Katchoo turned on it wasn't annoyed the way it usually was. Just sickened by the sudden and far too literal reminder: time was up.

"Stay there," she hissed through her teeth as she started to edge toward the alley between the Kwik Stop and Pizza Planet. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Tambi Baker	Six-plus feet of pure muscle and keen eyesight. You forgot the keen eyesight, Choovanski. That double sparkle in the sunlight as the woman caught sight of her was followed by a wider one below, of white, white teeth.
Katchoo	It had probably been too much to hope for that the keen eyesight might've gotten lost in a tragic fit of spontaneous myopia sometime in the past three years, huh? Dammit. That was not a smile Katchoo had ever wanted to see turned on her. She squeezed past a dumpster, abandoned the carton of smokes, and started to -- not run, yet, but walk a whole of a hell lot faster.
Tambi Baker	The woman in question just shook her head, taking her own sweet time to follow. Her own sweet time being just slow enough not to look like she was putting any effort into it at all, and just fast enough to give you nightmares about sharks in black leather for the rest of your life if somehow through divine intervention she never caught up with you.
Katchoo	Would a convenient stampeding herd of teal deer be too much to ask for right now? Would it? Probably. Katchoo was going to have nightmares about sharks in black leather, complete with that "dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-DUN-dun-DUN-dun-DUN-dun-DUN" music, for the rest of her life if aforementioned teal deer herd came stampeding through. Which, of course, it didn't, and once she made it to the street she broke into a dead run, heading for the park. It was a stupid move, in retrospect, if you were hoping to actually shake your pursuer. Katchoo knew this pursuer too well to hope for that. . . . but she was trying anyway.
Tambi Baker	...Tambi Baker was just going to take a second to stare at her quarry in pure, disgusted WTF, because seriously. Seriously. She didn't even have to run, when she started moving again. Where was the kid gonna go on this island? Dig a hole to China?
Katchoo	Okay, no convenient herd of teal deer. How about a convenient and unexpected portal to another world without cell phone service? That had happened before. And, of course, was not happening now. Any time, Fandom Island, any time. You could make with the wacky weirdness right now, and it wouldn't be a pain in the ass, hand to God. Of course not. Geez, who the hell had Katchoo pissed off to m -- don't answer that. She made it across the park and barged straight into a shop she wouldn't be caught dead in under any circumstances that didn't involve fancy dress clothing, which was . . . most circumstances, and headed for one of the dressing stalls. It had a curtain. Shit. Of course it had a curtain.
Tambi Baker	Of course it had a curtain. That almost got a growl from her pursuer - what fun is a door you don't have to kick down? Still it meant she couldn't be seen as she made her leisurely way to the back of the shop and leaned on the wall for a moment just listening to the breathing in there.
Katchoo	Yeah, well, suck it, Tambi. You get to break enough stuff. Katchoo, crouched on the tiny stool in the dressing stall, leaned up against the back wall and considered her options. Charging out of here like a bull and catching Tambi unaware was by no means on that admittedly very short list, and it was probably too late to try and calm her breathing down too, wasn't it? There was a window, though, and if she scrambled up fast enough she might just be able to fit through. If she broke it first.
Tambi Baker	Enough playing with the food; Tambi dropped to a crouch next to the dressing stall and spoke near the bottom of the curtain. "Tick tock, Cinderella. Tick tock."
Katchoo	Yes, Tambi, thanks for the reminder -- the sentient clock and the dreams about clocks weren't enough. No need to bring the symbolic sledgehammer into this. Her heart was beating that same goddamn rhythm right now, too. The window was just big enough for her to get through, but someone Tambi's size would get stuck and fast. Or so Katchoo hoped, and she'd better make this quick. Throwing an elbow into the glass with the kind of force she hadn't had to use since the time she busted up a Houston convenience store just to vent, she scrambled through the window and took a few cuts on the way out. Into the alley, then through the butcher shop, and holy crap, she might actually manage to get the hell away . . .
Tambi Baker	Since Tambi was just standing in the changing booth staring inscrutably at the busted window, there was a halfway decent shot. After a moment, she reached out with one wrapped hand and traced the line of red along one jagged edge, bringing her finger to her mouth to taste it. Then she turned and stalked out the way she'd come.

[OOC: NFI, and let's say NFB due to Tambi's almighty intimidating aura, OOC okay. Preplayed with the fabulous thatsamilkshake as one half of the Amazonian Wonder Half-Siblings (half-siblings, not stepsiblings, do you hear me, Mr. Moore?!?). Property damage done with permission of spiritofthe20th. Adapted from Strangers in Paradise Volume 2, Issue 6, "Tic Toc." See below re: symbolic sledgehammer of doom.]