WHO: Danae, Quentin
WHAT: Flirting, Shopping, Rated R

Well it started out okay. I could still feel the heated burn from last night. What is it about this stupid Garou that makes me just want to.. well to.. do stuff. I mean I can't help but want to be near him and touching him. I think this is that lust thing but at the same time. Anyways we started off driving and got to the mall. OMG. So many sheep, one building...

The night carried on with most of Danae's time moving from one to the other checking healing and being accessible. For some reason, she spent most the rest of the night avoiding Quentin too much. Thus, our caped crusaders find themselves in a million dollar car going about 115mph through the streets of St. Claire hunting the elusive mall entrance. Danae once again uses her emergency brake and finds a way to slide into a parking space. The ride was less talk and more loud music then anything else, as if the kinswoman is purposely avoiding one-on-one intimacy. As they pull up to the mall, her lips pull into a sneer. "I hate malls, I find the people so .. " Her voice trails as she thinks about it. "cookie cutter." Then she smiles seductively towards him, "I hope you didn't bleed or shed on the seats." If he looks at her after that all he sees is denim as she's out of the car as fast as possible.

It wasn't too difficult, given that after the shower, Quentin curled up in lupus form on the couch to get some sleep and heal; of course, he easily could've just stayed in glabro form, but perhaps he wanted an excuse not to actually speak. The music was appreciated in the car, his hand tapping to the window's ledge in time, the occasional quiet singing under his breath showing more than a little aptitude for it. As she parks, he undoes the shoulder-belt, reaching to the door-- and then slanting a look over as she rolls out of the car, a smirk curling his lips. "Women," he mutters under his breath, pushing out the passenger side.

St. Claire Mall, where teenagers go to be seen, old men go to watch teenagers and think dirty thoughts and there is always a parent somewhere making their child desire to die from embarressment. Ah yes, one can almost smell the teen spirit on the air. Danae waits for him to leave the car before the beep of her car alarm is set. Then she starts to hook her arm through his and then she stops just short of touching him. "Now, I'll shop here because I don't think you wanted me to take you to Venice, however, please don't try to make me eat the squallor they call food."

"...hey, don't think you're doing me any favors," Quentin replies with a faint 'hrmf' of breath as he steps along beside her en route to the mall's doors, passing the rows of beat up first-purchase cars and family sedans like a garden of plastic and glass, "I've always wanted to go to Venice." As she reaches out, then draws back, he slants a look her way-- just a hint of amusement stirring behind green eyes as he murmurs, "Somethin' wrong, Miss Johnson?"

Danae would never admit if there was and this is case in point. "Of course not Mister Michaels." She looks over the top of her sunglasses at him, "Whatever could be wrong?" There is a strange look deep in her green eyes as they come into contact with his before she quickly pulls them ahead. "Well, then we should go sometime. It would be the best place to get you a suit. It isn't really a day trip, or I would have done it. There is something about Italian designers and the classic styling that they have." She does pick up her walk a bit. Today, she's also a few inches shorter due to the heels on her boots not being as high as her business shoes. Though she does keep that promising sway to her hips when she walks ahead.

Quentin's own eyes, a mirror of jade to hers, are surprisingly intense in that brief contact before she looks ahead... and that faint smile curls into a more full one, turning to look back ahead as he follows a step or two after her. One hand pushes up through dyed hair to straighten it, a quiet chuckle exhaling from his lips, "As you like. I certainly wouldn't mind the trip."

Danae enters the mall and takes off her sunglasses tucking them in the front of her shirt. Like every mall it has the standard main stores and this causes her to look a little more pretenious by her annoyance. She reaches out to grab his hand without thinking and attempt to pull him to the map. As she reaches she talks, "Have you ever thought of another hair col..." It is that moment that her hand comes in contact with his and she spins her eyes towards as if he hurt her. A lowering of her brows and then she continues on. "So let's see where we should start with you."

As she grabs his hand, Quentin doesn't draw away; a curl of his fingers against hers more or less automatic as he steps along towards the map, though at her sudden halt in mid-word and look towards him he exhales a brief, sharp snort of breath. "You know," he observes in quiet tones approximately as dry as uncombusted sodium, "If you're going t'be cringing away from me every five minutes, Danae, I could just go shopping by myself."

Danae looks up a moment to that, "I'm not cringing from you, I'm cringing from me." She doesn't say anything more, but her hand tightens around his to make a point. "Okay, so I was wondering how attached to your hair being blue are you? If you are going to be in front of the camera, some of it is selling yourself as well as crafting a public image. Some of St. Clair are older people and don't want to help a blue haired punk."

"That's what the rest've you are for," Quentin notes with a slight purse of his lips as he looks up across the luminous map upon a backing of glossy black, "I still need to be able to mingle with the low-lifes, you know, Danae. And they're used to th'blue." He pauses a moment, before admitting, "So am I, really. And these days, with all the tech interests up here in Washington, a suit'n strange hair isn't that unusual."

Danae turns to lean her back against the lit up map of the mall. Her hand falling away as she studies every inch of him from hair to shoes. The shirt shifts just a bit to show the slenderness of her abdomen. "Okay. You can keep the hair, but don't give yourself a mohawk or anything without my approval." She smiles teasingly up to him as she offers. "I should probably pick up a few things too, but I won't make you go in the stores with me."

Quentin's free hand lifts to push a few locks of blue back from his brow as she leans herself back against the mall's map, a slight grin tugging itself up at one corner of his lips. "I suppose," he concedes, "That I could give it a bit've a trim for you, if you ask real nicely, Miss Johnson. And I'll just end up carrying your bags anyway, so I might as well..." A beat, and then he lifts one brow in teasing amusement, gaze flickering down from her face, "...I mean, unless you'd be uncomfortable with me following you into Frederick's."

Danae smiles in a seductive manner to that. "Of course not, I'm sure while we are there we can get you something too." She lets her eyes move over him as she tosses her dark hair behind her. She pushes off the map to come closer to him, "Besides... I don't ask, Mister Michaels." An older couple walks by them and remarks to her husband, "I can't believe people today, look at them. What is with all these skulls? Why in my day we didn't want to look like halloween costumes. Do you think that girl has a tattoo as well?" The husband smirks over at Q and Danae, "Probably." Then they shuffle off.

As the pair walk past with those catty remarks, Quentin's head tilts just a bit to look after her with a slight narrowing of his eyes; a stirring of that predator beneath the skin as he watches them, then gives his head a shake, reaching his hand up to offer Danae his hand openly this time. "Well," he allows casually, "Shall we? And _do_ you have a tattoo?"

Danae reaches up her hand to his jaw in attempts to turn his eyes back towards her, "Let it go.." Then she takes the hand offered and then smiles brightly, "Well if I do, it would be somewhere covered." She smiles up at him in a saucy manner. "I'll let you think of all the places it might be if it exists." Then she moves, "There is a higher end salon, let's start there and see if they can get you in for a trim."

Quentin's head tips a bit to the hand brushing across his jaw, lips just-grazing the skin there. Although it could be an accident. As she teases him, his lips twitch in a faint smile, and then he moves to step along after her, his head shaking slowly, "You're incorrigible, woman."

"Which is why you like me, Tiger." Danae walks through the mall as if she owns it. Her head held high and the walk that garners more than a few looks. She also looks younger in the denim and t-shirt. "So.. you didn't state if you liked my outfit and here I did it all for you." She winks as she gets close to the tres chic salon. "We need to get the guy here a trim." She smiles in a way that states that she has more power than they do, "Make it happen soon, I detest waiting." Her business card is extended.

"I didn't think you'd find it appropriate if I told you my first reaction to the outfit," Quentin banters without missing a beat, and if he's enjoying the view of that walk, well, he keeps his cards close to his chest. Once they're in the salon, he lets her deal with the clerk, stepping himself over to ease into a chair and drop down to sit, reaching out to snag a magazine to flip through off the table.

Danae negotiates a few more moments and then comes over, "Short wait but they'll take us next." She moves to attempt to drop on his right thigh with her legs between his in a seated position. "So what was your first reaction, Tiger?" Her eyes scan the area though as if noting everything around before she tosses the weight of her hair off her nearest shoulder.

The sudden perch upon his knee isn't exactly expected, Quentin's head lifting with a bemused expression... and then a low chuckle, his arm reaching out to wrap about the curve of her waist since she's going to be settled there half on his lap anyhow. "Oh," he replies, leaning in just a bit with a smirk curling to his lips, "Just that if I saw you dressed like that in one've my clubs, I'd have that outfit on the floor by midnight."

Danae gives a low laugh to that comment and doesn't tense from the contact this time. "Well by midnight hmm?" She looks over the outfit for a moment and then looks back at him. Her eyes twinkle with mischief, "Then you should come out clubbing sometime. I wear worse for that you know. I have this one outfit that is practically see-thru. It is cut down to here.." She indicates the position between her breasts, low between her breasts, ".. and up to here." Her hand then falls high on her thigh. The humor drips off her words as she lifts her eyes up to his and chuckles lightly. "You know, I've always liked green eyes, I think only the best people have them."

Quentin's gaze drops from her face as she gestures with that hand down to the mid-line of her chest, and then down to her thigh... and a low chuckle tumbles past his lips, those green eyes sliding their way up to meet hers once more. "Careful, Miss Johnson," he murmurs as green meets green, fingers splaying over the far curve of her hip in a way that slides them up beneath the hem of her t-shirt, callused fingertips rasping over bare skin, "Keep flirting like that and you might find yourself without a way to back out..."

"Mister Michaels, there is always a way to back out. It is called the word no." Danae offers. She shifts a bit as she feels the fingers against her skin, but its almost a ticklish reaction. "So I was thinking that we could just shave your head completely and.." She trails off with a wink. "Oh and its not flirting, I really do own the outfit. I also have an all leather one, but its so hard to get out of the pants."

"It is," Quentin observes with a hint of amusement twisted through his voice, his hooded gaze lingering on hers as she speaks, "We're a passionate people, though, Miss Johnson. I don't recommend pushing too far when the moon gets brighter... unless you don't plan on using that word." A snort of breath, "Tell me about it. Tried leather for awhile. Feels good, but it's hell getting in'n out of."

"Or maybe the no is part of the game, Mister Michaels. I mean if you really wanted we could.." Danae's voice is growing intimately low before there is a clearing of a throat behind her. "Miss Johnson, we can take you now." Dani smiles and starts to find her feet as she says, "Comeon Mister Michaels, let's go trim your hair and make you all pretty for me."

As she speaks, Quentin leans in slowly closer... and then he exhales a low, throaty chuckle when that throat clears, head ducking away before he rolls himself up to his feet after her. "I am not your Barbie Doll," he quips, moving to step along over to the clerk.

"No darling, you are more my Ken Doll. The male fashion accesssory for Barbie." She winks as she follows the stylist chatting about Q's hair as if he doesn't have a say. They both seem to wait for him to sit down.

"You're terrible." An amused chuckle as Quentin settles himself down into the chair, stretching his legs out a bit to get comfortable, arms folding across his chest.

"So I was thinking, that we could trim up the sides to make it look business man with a twist." Danae explains and then she moves to settle across Q's lap again, this time straddling his knees to face him. Her eyes don't even look at him as she's talking to the stylist. Dani's long fingers slide through Q's hair, least he stop her, to start talking about blade types, fades and the shortness of cut. Does he even exist between the two women?

Quentin makes a slight grunt as he's straddles so suddenly, leaning back in the chair and watching her with more than a hint of amusement - and possibly something else - in those bright green eyes, his hands resting lightly at her hips once she settles in there. As her fingers work through his hair, his thumbs brush lightly along the skin just over the waistband, slow back-and-forth caresses, just waiting for them to decide on his fate.

Danae blinks and looks down at him as he touches her. She shoots one of those soft smiles from last night and then goes back to talking to the stylist. The woman seems amused by the punks but she doesn't hose them down yet either. Instead she drapes the apron over and around Quentin's neck, letting it fall a bit between the two. Gail, the stylist, starts the spraying the water from the spray bottle to the man's hair. Now the two really get into the talking of length. Finally, Danae offers, "Is it alright if we cut it close in the back and on the sides? We'll leave the top slightly long so you can mess it up to look rocker and slick it back to look professional."

Hey, she's touching him, he's touching her. It's only fair. Quentin's head tilts back as the stylist starts to spray the spray-bottle across his hair, his eyes sliding closed as he settles in to be tended to. "Mm. That's not bad," he admits in quietly thoughtful tones, "I can live with that."

Danae sits back to his knees to watch the cut. Luckily, male hair is pretty easy. A few swipes of a razor, a couple clips of the hair and poof he's fan-tab-u-lous. Danae spends the time just sitting there watching as Gail makes small talk with her. When its done, Dani nods her head and starts to retreat off his lap so that he might look at it.

Quentin slides a hand to the arm of the chair so she can escape, his other hand briefly raking short nails down the denim-clad length of her thigh before she's away-- sitting up a bit, he cants his head at the mirror critically, turning his head to one side, then the other, lips pursing. "I can live with it," he decides.

Danae blinks to the nails on her thigh before she tosses him an amused smile. She drops her head near his shoulder to meet his eyes in the mirror. "See and then we can ruffle it and make you look dangerous." She messes up the top of his hair and growls lightly in his ear. "You will be the danger that goes flap in the night.." She winks to him in the mirror as she starts to straighten to go do Gail's favorite thing. Pay.

As she growls into his ear, Quentin's head drops back to look up at her with a smirk curling to his lips. "Try'n dress me up like Darkwing Duck, and I'll bite you," he observes, rolling himself to his feet and twisting on his heel to stalk after her with his usual loose-limbed, straight-backed, arrogant stride.

"You can try, Lover, but it won't work." Danae flashes him a smile the same time she flashes the salon her platinum credit card. Her eyes fall to the hair gels and various things. "We'll take a bottle of mousse, it'll probably last tall, dark and bluey the whole of his life to use." She teases before the purchase is rang up and her autograph follows a sizable tip.

Quentin steps up behind her as she rings things up, hands sliding up her hips once more; thumbs curling into the belt-loops of her jeans, he leans down in to murmur against the shell of her ear in a stirring of hot breath, "Good point. That might just encourage you, Miss Johnson."

Danae doesn't blush or stammer. Instead she gives a sincere laugh that rings around the room to that. "You are probably right to that, Lover. Now we have to undress you and get you some new clothing." She winks towards Gail and then looks up at Quentin to see if he releases her hips for her to walk. "Although..." She starts to muse. "... you say that like you don't want me encouraged; when we both know you do."

"I just want you to know what you're encouraging, is all," Quentin replies with a low chuckle, the warmth of his lips skimming over her ear's shell as he lingers there... and then slides back, giving her backside a casual smack with one palm, head jerking to the door, "Lead the way."

Danae jumps slightly forwards with the slap on her backside. She blinks at him for the longest moment in that - did you really just do that - sort of expression. Then she laughs and shakes her head. "Well, we'll start with the outer layer and work in. Let's go find you a tailored suit." She shakes her head a bit to that and gives him one more - did you really just do that - looks.

Quentin's head cants a bit to look back to her with that hint of long hair spilt across his brow, a glint of challenge in his eye as if daring her to say anything. "A suit it is," he observes casually then, moving to step along down the hall, "You coming?"

"I'm sure about fifteen minutes after you do and have fallen asleep." Danae rebuttals as she follows him, only this time she lets him get a few feet in front of her. Emerald eyes slide down the back of her pants before she takes a few jumping runs and jumps. She attempts to wrap her arms around his neck, and her legs around his hips from the back in true 'piggy back' styling. "SUITS HO!"

That is about the last thing that Quentin expected her to do, and therefore the sudden impact against his back sends him stumbling forward a few steps-- swaying unsteadily for a few moments, his head twisting to try and stare at her over his shoulder as he exhales a helpless laugh, "You're -insane-!"

Danae wraps her long legs around his belt line as she hangs off his shoulders like a monkey on his back. If they were getting looks before now, they are definitely getting odder ones now. She shoots a brilliant smile at him and then releases slightly to point to the right with her right hand. "That place does custom suits, go there. Onward mount.. onward."

Quentin's hands lift up to slide along her thighs and brace her there just before the knees, his shoulders hunched forward a bit as he carries her across the mall's hallway towards the store that she's pointed out. "I see," he murmurs in humor-thick tones, "You just wanted to ride me, Miss Johnson."

A low, husky chuckle responds to the teasing as Quentin carries her to the entrance of the store, pausing there as her fingers slip over his eyes-- his head pushing up a bit, lips parting as he tries to bite playfully at the side of her hand. Hey, he warned her!

Danae giggles light and easy to that as she pulls her hands back. They are presented by the non-impressed looks of the tailors and salesman. One looks Quentin from top to bottom and offers, "Hot Topic is down the ways a bit."

Quentin shifts a bit to straighten, giving her thighs a light slap of both hands to urge her off him. "Down, girl," he murmurs, before turning a slow, lazy smile towards the tailor, "I'm sure it is. Me? I'm here for a suit. Money's no object."

Danae pouts a bit to that, but her legs leave him and she drops down to the ground. Her smile is infectious and large as she presents over her platinum card and offers, "No object like he said. I'm afraid we are going to have to spend a lot of money as well... he's going to need a few suits and they are going to have to be tailored to him." She turns to wink back at Quentin before she tosses her hair again.

Quentin's shoulders roll back a bit in a stretch as he straightens fully once more, casting her an amused look, "...uh-huh. A /few/ suits? Monkey King laughs, woman, what are you trying to turn me into, a CEO?"

Danae purrs softly as she walks to his side, sliding up against him. "Worse, I'm trying to make you... presentable." She looks up at him in mock horror as her jade eyes open wide. However, those eyes of hers sparkle in humor. As the card is in their hands and they verified it is hers, there is a different sort of approach. Now the un-couple can do no wrong. In fact, the man is snapping his fingers to get the best suits brought forwards.

"You're a terrible woman," Quentin accuses once more, a sigh spilling from his lips and his head shaking slowly from side to side as the tailors and clerks move about, "What _am_ I going to do with you?"

Danae smiles warmly and murmurs to his ear alone, "Thank Gaia you met me." Then she shakes her head, "You are kidding right?" She walks over to one of the suits. "That was not only last year but the lines are completely incorrectly done. There is a tattering that leads towards the 1998 design and we all know it was flawed completely." It is amusing to watch her in her current outfit snapping into fashionista mode. The tailor looks dumbstruck and then impressed. "Now show me something current and the higher the label the more I'm willing to buy."

"You get extra points for pinstripes," the Walker murmurs back playfully before letting her do her work. He looks at the suits with a rather bemused expression as she tears their choices apart. He can't tell the difference.

Danae lets a soft sigh out of her lips, "Nevermind.. get my friend here a bottle of water and just hover by your register. I'll pick the suit." She gives an exaggeratedly annoyed sigh and comes out with a pinstriped suit. "You really want to wear stripes, Lover?" She mutters and then presses it to his chest. "Go over there and put this on." She grabs up some shoes and a shirt, with a tie. "These too, hollar if you need assistance."

Quentin can't help a laugh to that, "...it was a goodfellas joke, Miss Johnson." The suit's accepted as it's pushed to his chest, the shoes and a shirt as he turns to stride off towards the dressing room, shaking his head, "And I think I can dress myself. Undressing, now, I might need help..."

Danae smirks softly as she backhands his back pockets on his jeans. "Well let me know if you need help with that too." She then starts to go through the rest of the stock making piles. It will be noted, she got his sizes right.

At the smack, Quentin laughs. And then he's in the dressing room for a bit, with the rustling of fabrics audible within, and the occasional muttering.

Danae sends a smile towards the dressing room. Hey, he can't see the look. "Sooo, how long have you and your boyfriend been together?" Gisela walks over and asks which makes Danae turn and blink. "Oh he's not my boyfriend. We are just.... friends." There is a pause on the word as she's not sure they are even that. The girl nods to that and winks. "Oh, I'm sure." There is a look exchanged between the two before Danae has three outfits picked out. "The alterations will be able to be made on all of them? I'm not sure he's going to want to put on three suits and stand around while people paw at him."

It takes a few minutes, before Quentin steps out from the dressing room drenched head to toe in dark fabric and pinstripes, hands spreading to either side as he looks down at himself critically; turning around once. The tie isn't on right.

Danae looks up and stops. For a few moments, her eyes darken with something a bit more than appreciation. Then she shakes her head and laughs, "Nice.." Dani steps up next to him and starts to fix his tie, "Let me guess, you can't wait to get out of it right?"

As she steps before him, Quentin stills to let her adjust the tie, his back straightening a bit; he looks down at her with a wry expression, smile tugging up a bit at one corner of his lips as he murmurs, "Only if you're getting out've that outfit at the same time, Danae."

Danae claps him on the upper left arm. "You know you.. men are all the same. Its all about sex with you." She does come up on her tip toes as if she's going to press her lips to his. She even moves in and at the last minute turns to walk away. "You look good."

Quentin's smile tugs a bit wider at that clap of her hand against his arm, and that comment... his head dipping down a bit as she leans up, before she turns to walk away, his gaze following her as she walks across the store. "Thanks," he allows, adjusting the set of the jacket and glancing over to the others, "...so what other monkey-suits do you got for me?"

Danae nods to the tailor who looks at her and then at the blue haired punk. He walks over with a measuring tape but then hmms, "Your girlfriend really knows your size." He then lowers his voice to the other man, "And let me tell you, I'm envious. I've been married forty years now and my wife has to bleed me out to get my blood running. However, your girlfriend, have you noticed how she looks in those jeans when she bends over? Lucky, lucky man you are." Then he speaks up, "Arms out so I can check the length please." Danae just winks towards Quentin, out of hearing range luckily. "I got you a few others. Though I'm sure we'll have to come back to pick them up in a few days."

At the comment, Quentin turns a bemused look to her... and then he exhales a low chuckle, murmuring, "She's not my girlfriend, more's the pity..." Straightening, he stretches his arms out to either side, "...wonderful. Do you have Tim Gunn hidden somewhere to spring on me next, Miss Johnson?"

"No, I'm saving that for your birthday, Tiger." Danae walks back over to supervise the alterations. "I think the inseam looks good, but his jacket needs more tailoring." The man nods behind him as Danae steps in front and grabs Quentin's sides. "Like right through here." She smiles up at him and then looks to the tailor. There are notes made on the material and the pad of paper. The rest actually looks pretty good."

"You know, nobody's going to recognize me after this," Quentin observes as he holds still, letting himself be measured and poked and prodded by the tailor and the politician, "They're going to think I've been replaced by my independently wealthy twin."

Danae smiles and walks behind Q as she spies something. Then in a flash she jumps back in front of him, "What do you think? Is it me?" She is wearing the most perfect mafia fedora created. She lowers it down over her right eye and smooths the brim. Then winks with the left. Danae offers softly, "The clothing doesn't make the man, darling. I do. So you just need to find another me as an accessory." She does start to saunter over to him lifting the hat to put it on his head.

Quentin dips his chin down to allow the hat to be placed upon his head, his smile widening at the very sight of it-- straightening once more, he adjusts the jacket, then lifts his hands to bring down the brim at a cocky little angle that shadows his gaze. "What if I decide to keep this one?" A teasing note woven through his words, green eyes falling upon her face.

Danae smiles vibrantly up to him at that hat. "I think we have to have this hat added to the bill." She talks to the owner but she's looking at Quentin now. Her hand reaches up to cock the hat a little more to the side. "Now who could resist that?"

Quentin's smile twitches a bit wider. "You," he winks one eye, "Apparently." He turns, then, away from her as he faces the mirror once more, regarding the reflection with begrudging approval.

Danae watches him walk for a moment and releases a breath. Then she offers, "I just don't like what you are selling Q baby." She wraps her arms around his waist from behind and then pulls the jacket back. "It will look like this when altered."

Quentin considers the corrected look, his head dipping in a bit of a nod to himself. "Not bad," he murmurs finally, then glances back over his shoulder with a curl of his lips at one corner, "...liar."

Danae releases and steps in front of him to loosen the tie. "What exactly am I lying about, Stud? I get confused between your half-truths and my supposed lies." She smiles at him beautifully though. "You know, just so I get is straight."

"What'd I tell you about calling me things like that, hm?" An amused stirring behind Quentin's eyes as he looks down to her, both brows raising a bit as she loosens the tie, "Unless I got _really_ drunk last night and don't remember it..."

Danae smiles suggestively, "Oh, you would remember. You would then build a shrine to how awesome I am at it." She gives him a playful shove, "Okay, go dress down so I don't look under dressed. Hollar if you need help."

Quentin exhales a snort of breath to that, drawing away from her and heading into the dressing room once more with a slow shake of his head, "Pride goeth before a fall, Miss Johnson..." Then the door's closed, and fabric rustles once more.

"Well tell me when you want to take me to the floor." Danae hollars after him. "We'll take all three suits and the mafia wear." She signs her pretty name with flourish. "One of us will by to pick it up in three days, please have all the alterations done by then." She then waits for him.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually Quentin emerges from the dressing room, shoulders shifting a bit as if having difficulty transitioning into different clothes. Also, the hat's on his head still, because he doesn't seem quite willing to take it off just yet.

Danae smiles and walks up to him. One can already see the humor to her walk. Her hips sway in a tribal beat that is very come hither and very over done. Her arms sliding up his shoulders and around his neck, unless he moves, "I just can't say no to that hat." It looks like she's going to crack up laughing any moment now.

Quentin exhales a low chuckle of his own as she walks over with that exaggerated sway of hips, humor glinting in jade-green eyes as she reaches up to slither her arms around his neck; taking a step closer in return, his own arms slide about her waist in a secure capturing in return. "Do you find something funny," he murmurs, brows lifting towards the brim, "Miss Johnson?"

"Well Mister Michaels, since you asked. I would say that I find you most amusing." Danae's eyes burn for a moment with the fire of a strange intensity; a reminder of last night perhaps. Then she lowers her lashes to break the eye contact, as if that alone could sever the other feelings. "You still owe me a trip to Frederick's."

"That I do," Quentin replies in a low murmur of his own, his head dipping just a bit lower until the edge of the hair stirs against her hair; his own gaze intent, a hint of heat stirring there as well as he asks softly, "So is amusing all that you find me?"

Danae ficks her eyes back upwards at the feel of her hair coming into contact with his. For a moment there is the raw intensity of her eyes upon his and she stops speaking. It is almost like she freezes completely before she wets her lips. "I.." Her hands around the back of his neck tighten as if to attempt to draw him down. At the last minute, she loosens and offers, "I think we should go find another store." Though her voice is more sultry and soft; her eyes still on his.

Quentin's hands slide up the small of her back, fingers curling in just a bit until she can feel a hint of short nails through the fabric of her shirt; not drawing away just yet, the heat in his eyes stirred like coals brushed by a hearty breeze, smile lingering faint, predatory upon his lips. "So do I," he replies on a whispered breath, just a bit husky with hidden emotion, "But I want I _want_ to do is something different..."

"Get ice cream?" Danae offers in a momentary joke before she settles contently in his arms. The saleswoman and owner exchange looks like yeah not a couple. Then Danae smiles, "We should get to my shopping before I have you gone all day, what will all your women think?"

At that, Quentin's nostrils flare in a faint snort of breath. "Never been a woman I could have willing to keep me, Miss Johnson..." The smile fades a bit as he leans back from her, hands sliding over her back and waist before sliding free, head canting towards the hall, "Shall we?"

Danae takes a shuddering breath, "Funny, I've never known a guy like you to ever keep just one." She means Garou of course. Then she's sauntering out of the area to look around the mall thoughtfully. "Frederick's.. is there anywhere you want to go?" She turns her eyes towards his curiously.

"Then you haven't known very many good men," Quentin replies with a hint of curtness, though his gaze tells a different story as it watches her more usual sway for a moment-- shaking his fedora-topped head to clear it, he drops into an easy stride after her to catch up, "Mm. I'm good. Unless you think I need any more bits'n odds'n ends to fit in... I mean, I don't even have a rolex yet."

Danae looks up with all seriousness, "Do you want one? I am sure they have one here or something. Next time we do this though, we are flying down to Vegas. They have all the designers on the strip, so we can get the good stuff." She reaches up and hits the brim of his hat towards his eyes. "Come on Superman, lets get to the fun girl part of the exercise." She pulls him to the escalator, though she hops up on the side rail to ride down, using his arm as leverage.

Quentin exhales a snort of laughter to that serious response. "Monkey King laughs, woman, you keep making these offers and I'll be driving out of here in a Tesla Roadster next..." A hand lifts to adjust the hat after she knocks it down a bit, and then he's grabbed and pulled to the escalator, laughing, "You _are_ incorrigible."

"You keep saying that like is it a bad thing. Would you like me corrigible?" Her lashes flutter downwards and then back up at him as she rides down. "So Mister Michaels, tell me about yourself."

"What is there that you don't know?" A brow quirks up a bit, as Quentin regards her as she rides down the escalator's rail, one hand resting to its rubbery surface while she balances herself on it, "You do seem to assume you know everything about me..."

Danae wraps her legs about his waist, but instead of leaning closer, she falls backwards. Her body as if it is falling off the escalator. There is a smirk at the gasps of shock below. Then she offers, "You have children?"

At that maneuver, Quentin blinks-- reaching out to curl his hand into the waistband of her jeans and belt, gripping firmly to keep her from toppling further. "Crazy woman," he mutters under his breath, watching her with a faint smile before giving a tug to pull her up. "--no. Just told you I'd never had a mate, Danae," he observes, glancing back over the floor below.

Danae is pulled back up and comes more against his chest, her hair continuing over his shoulder to his back as she laughs. "I wasn't going to fall, you would have caught me." She tosses her hair back into place and smiles provocatively at him. "Having a mate matters little. People get together to just have children."

Quentin wraps that arm about her waist, hoisting her up off the rail as the escalator reaches the bottom; taking a few steps forward before pausing, presumably waiting for her legs to slip back down. Those green eyes meet hers seriously, his lips twitching in a faint smile, "Some people do. I'm less into sharing than them."