ficlets of characters you don't know

stealing from mannequins.

[copy-pasted directly from google docs.]
general tags: more crack fickery-fuckery, stealing, questionable fashion choices
tw: cursing, mentions of murder

"Apparently these things are in fashion lately." Joey pulls a bucket hat off the shelf and puts it on, facing the other two with his arms spread slightly.

Caro's eyebrows rise just as Richie's lower. "Huh. You know, I was just starting to think you couldn't get any uglier."

"Who decided these are fashionable?" Rich asks with disgust, batting it off his head and onto the ground. Joey scowls at the action, forcefully whacking the back of his head.

"Ow," he deadpans, immediately reaching up to fix his hair.

Caro turns from where he's been messing about between racks of clothing, now sporting an obnoxiously glittery black leather jacket and large pointy sunglasses to match. He pulls his hair out so it flows over his shoulders.

"The glitter is camouflaging with your freckles," Joey points out.

"I am the hottest guy in the universe," he says with a grin.

He snorts. "I'd hate to see what everyone else looks like in your universe."

Richie clicks his tongue, making a tsk sound, and plucks the glasses off Caro's face. He replaces them with rounder ones that are shaped less like triangles and holds them out to him.

"Your face is too angular for those hideous glasses," he states, expression like it's obvious and how dare you not know the basics. "Round frames on square faces. Softens the features."

"Caro? Soft?" Joey laughs disbelievingly.

"Or he could go back to the pizza glasses," he glares at him.

Caro rolls his eyes and takes the pair of sunglasses from Richie. As he puts on the glasses, he does an exaggerated hair flip, for good measure.

Joey whistles. "Wow, that is somehow not as revolting. Great job, Dickie." The fact that Joey's actually complimenting him must mean the last ones were absolutely awful.

Rich tilts his head slightly with crossed arms, looking over the outfit with a more critical eye than he should be.

"What?" Caro mirrors his crossed arms mockingly. "Is the glitter not suitable for my angular features, either?

"No, it's the black. The value contrast is too high and you've got cool skin; you're a blue-eyed blond, you'd look better in lighter colours," he declares, and Joey rolls his eyes with a light groan.

"You telling me I can't wear black?" he raises an eyebrow disbelievingly. " It's the only colour I wear."

"Well, I suppose you've been dressing wrong for centuries."

"I'm not wearing a fucking pastel."

"You'd look better in it."

"You'd look better if your head was off your neck."

"At least I wouldn't be repulsively dressed."

"I can make you repulsively dressed."

"Oh, careful, that sort of thing's frowned down upon around here."

"The Dick and the Asshole," Joey mutters, already having lost interest in their bickering and trying on other, more absurdly coloured hats.

"Fuck off," Caro tells him, slipping off the glittery leather jacket and pulling a dark grey zip-up hoodie instead.

"Not lavender, but it'll make do," Richie quips with full intent of being insufferable.

"I will blend your hair in the juicer."

"We don't have a juicer?"

"We do, now."

He points at one of the shopping carts full of miscellaneous items, most of which they probably won't ever use but threw in because it looked fun. Among the twenty-something iPhones Joey's shoved in for 'disrupting the market and bankrupting a corrupt capitalist system', there is, in fact, a juicer.

Joey glances up from his new Apple Watch, halfway through dumping the entire hats section into a newly rolled-over shopping cart. "I think the mall's about to open up. We should go."

Richie nods and with concerning determination throws an entire line of boots into another cart as Joey completes his hat collection.

"Guys." Caro frowns as he counts the carts. "Did we forget to get the actual groceries? Like, the thing we're here for?"

Joey mutters something bitter in Swedish. "Whatever, I can just kill whatever guards come across us. You're dealing with the body."

"Ugh, damnit, can we just come back tomorrow?"

"No."