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Chapter Text

"Let's see... Knick Knacks, Merchandise, Refreshments." Piper wanted to stop by the Starr Shop before she made her commute back to her townhouse. She figured it would be quicker to buy something inside Starr Park's tiny store than to deal with the rush hour hustle-and-bustle of a city store. And she had just finished adorning her scalp with a pristine blue hair clip to hold back massive bangs. No need to ruin that with crowded grocery store traffic.

Though as she moved from aisle-to-aisle she couldn't shake this feeling that something was watching her. It was that violating presence you got when you would walk down a foreign street. Like you didn't belong here. She would often look over her shoulders expecting to see someone behind her. But after she got past her thick yellow locks, she would only find her paranoia staring back.

Perhaps it was just her imagination, besides. "Ah, ammunition!" Piper looked down the giant aisle with an assortment of different bullets and projectiles with awe. Griff knows what the people want. The massive rounds she equipped into her umbrella were sitting under a section labeled Snappy Sniping.

As Piper reached up to retrieve a pack, she heard the tiniest cackle from behind her. "Eee-hee-hee." Piper felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. She snapped around to find the source but again was met with dust particles. She knew she didn't imagine that and she refused to stay here any longer.

Piper quickly concluded her shopping, lifting her massive dress so she could optimally rush from item to item. She blew a sigh of relief when she was able to get to the counter without any further close calls. Her smooth hands smashed on the golden bell, "Griff? Griff?! I'm ready to check out!"

Piper looked back and forth hoping to see the walking cash register stroll from one of the side rooms. Instead, a white tuff of hair peeked from the countertop. A giddy squeal slowly left her mouth as the Starr Shop cashier rose from below.

Piper's heart dropped when she saw the jagged smile her spiked teeth presented. The mischievous glare in the girl's eye, while not sinister, felt unnaturally chaotic. Piper tried her best to act professionally, "Hi, Colette." The girl gave back an uncomfortable wheeze in response. "Great..." Piper carefully placed her items on the counter. Colette didn't take her gaze off the southern belle.

Her heavy breathing made this awkward situation drastically uncomfortable. It took all of Piper's strength not to walk out. "So... if you could just... scan these I'll be on my way."

With a creepy whine, Colette slowly retrieved each item. Sustaining an unhealthy amount of eye contact the entire time. Piper was in a nervous sweat, unable to look away from the overly passionate employee. 'I thought she'd be satisfied with that grenade pin I dropped last week. Why is she still so creepy?'

Piper was relieved when Colette carefully passed her bags. She still reframed from speaking, only staring into Piper's mind. Again the older woman tried to break the tension, "Have a nice day, love."

Colette gasped at the classic phrase Piper would use in all her performances. The southern belle sauntered towards the sliding glass doors. Colette merrily called, "Have a nice day!"

Hoping to save face Piper turned around and waved at the girl. However, she had suddenly disappeared from her station behind the counter. Piper's jaw went slack. She looked to her right deeper into the store but she didn't see the girl. Perhaps she disappeared behind the counter again.

"Come back soon!" a voice screamed beside Piper.

Colette had somehow jumped beside the door without Piper noticing. The blonde lass let out a nervous chuckle as she slipped out the exit. Again, she had to thank the powers above that she was able to get away without a hitch. Interacting with Colette could easily devolve into fighting her off with a stick. Her fanatic frenzies were akin to rabid animal attacks. She pushed a hanging bang out of her vision. At least she didn't have to worry about besmirching her pristine image.

Her hand rested against her scalp. "Where's my hairpin?"

Colette slipped behind the counter with a sinister snicker. Her purple scrapbook had its edges frayed from constant usage. Whether that usage was for collection or combat depended on the weather. Though for today's excursion into the realm of memories she would just be opening it. She quickly flipped through the massive pages and found a section dedicated to the sniping queen.

Taped up tight within the paper bounds was a set of used ammunition from one of the shows Piper had finished. That and the aforementioned grenade pin was childishly accompanied by a messily drawn picture of Piper.

Colette snatched up a small tape roll and ripped it apart with her knife-edged gnashers. The massive sleeves of her oversized blue jacket attempted to impede her assignment but she had long since grown accustomed to its unorthodox size. She slipped the stolen hairpin from said sleeves and locked it up tight. "Another addition to my scrapbook," she merrily cooed.

"COLETTE!"

She jumped from the heated tenor of her boss's call. Smashing open the wooden office was a sentient cash register with paystubs for eyes. His gold-stained wooden cheeks were accentuated with classic keytops found on the first typewriters of old. And a metallic toupee sat at the top of his squared-off head to give him a little style.

The giant smile that stretched from drawer to drawer always brought a matching grin along Colette's face. "Yes, Mr. Griff?"

"What was that infernal dinging?" Griff used his gloved hand to crank the old-fashioned lever. His eyes rolled like a slot machine and settled on two question marks.

"Nothing sir. Just a customer checking out."

Griff dusted off his purple suit. The smooth silk rolled over his portly exterior. He strolled up to the cash register, examining the countertop for inconsistencies. "Nothing is... amiss?"

Colette shook her head like a baby doll.

Griff would have continued pestering her but was distracted by the glare of the tip jar. "Good!" He snatched the half-full container up in his grubby hands. "Then I'll leave you to it." Colette silently starred on as Griff clicked his heels back towards his office. Just as he was about to make his exit he turned around, "Oh and do keep the store spick-an'-span. We have a new hire arriving today. When they show make sure to inform me."

With that he slammed the door shut. Colette returned her attention to the front door. An inquisitive look now staining her unsettling smirk. They were getting a new worker? Colette's grin grew ten times in size. She was getting a new friend!

Colette spent the next hour rushing around the shop cleaning every dust molecule off the shelves. While she splurged herself with a cleaning spree, she couldn't stop imagining who the new hire would be. Her initial thought was another girl like her. Young and in love with Starr Park. Most likely the duo would spend most of their time at work sharing their favorite Brawler stories.

She hoped the new hire would be a fellow Brawler. She hadn't made too many female Brawler friends save for the infamous zombie model, Emz. Maybe with a new female Brawler the two could dominate the duo tournaments and get some extra cash. Normal humans were susceptible to such violent injuries in the sport of brawling. Their feeble bodies could rarely survive fighting a Brawler. Only those born with the enhanced Brawler gene could survive the traumatic battles they participated in daily.

The customers that shuffled in and out noticed a distinct lack of absurdum in Colette's usual interactions. The girl was within her bubble of reality. And her body unconsciously knocked over the Crow-themed pen she bought upon first entering the Starr Shop.

While she was below the counter, she heard the gentle chime of the front door's greeting bell. Her rushed attempt to rise again caused her to bump her head against the sturdy wood. With a tentative hand she arose, "Hello. Welcome to Starr Shop-" she hissed between her introductions. "My name is Colette. How-"

As she opened her eyes her tongue rolled down her throat. Standing before her was a young fair-skinned male with hair akin to the void of vantablack paint. Its shaggy length drooped over his shadowed eyes. The annoyed glare he gave her seemed like a permanent part of his figure.

Her eyes scrolled down to his attire. A punk black shirt with a cartoonish skull bared across his chest. That and a strange mismatch pair of grey sweatpants that sported a pink pinstripe. His hands were smothered with purple gloves and a pair of black high-tops swaddled his feet.

Though the most intriguing part of his outfit was unequivocally the striped scarf that swallowed his neck and chin. It was a matching shade of violet as his gloves with woven white blocks dividing the wool into sections. Colette silently stared at the teen as his scarf flowed in the non-existent wind. His pocketed palms quickly snapped out of their hiding place and tapped the service bell.

"Umm. Hello?" The teen's bored tone brought Colette down from her visual high. He spoke to her like a tired older brother, "Hello?"

"H-ho—ow?"

The mystery boy was taken aback. "You okay?"

Colette again tried to speak, "Wow-how." She covered her mouth. Why couldn't she form a sentence?

"Okay..." The boy looked past her, "Is Griff here?"

Colette's eyes bugged out at the request. 'Is he?'

The office door smashed against the wall again, "Colette it can't be that busy today!" The living money-maker noticed the emo at the entrance. "Ah, Edgar. You're early." Edgar cringed a little from the sudden proximity of his potential boss. Griff put on the charm extra thick today, "And may I say you are looking absolutely ~ fabulous! ~"

Edgar's scarf used one of its hanging tails to push Griff away from his face. The other end made a waving motion as if to tell the cash register, 'nuh-uh.'

Colette couldn't take her eyes off them as Griff lead Edgar into his office. Leaving a stunning silence in their wake. Colette took a second to adjust to the overload of information. Now she was unable to help herself from jumping with joy. Her oversized sleeves flew around her head as she tried to get her overflowing emotions under control.

'A boy. A BOY!' she screamed internally. 'And a cute one too.' She couldn't help but squeal a little. What better way to start a day than with a cute new employee? 'I've gotten tell someone.'

Colette proceeded to spend the following quiet minutes messaging her closest friends. The back-and-forth gossip of the gals and guys she messaged all revolved around one question. How cute was he? Colette tried to place her finger on one feature that stood out to her but she couldn't quite grasp a focal point.

She remembered his baggy eyes, his droopy hair, maybe it was his gloomy attire. But none of those were what set her off. Then she remembered his scarf. While the accessory was fashionably attractive, she was more enamored by the way it pushed up his cute button of a nose. It was like a little prick that just barely protruded from his mostly flawless face.

Definitely the nose. As she proceeded to inform all her companions a message pinged into her notifications. Her model friend Emz had asked an interesting question, Is he a Brawler? Colette looked back at the door. She couldn't see their silhouettes through the foggy window. Thinking back to his introduction, the mystical properties of his scarf could make qualify him to be a Brawler. But he wouldn't be the first human to use special tools and technology to keep up with the Brawler gene.

As she sent her hypothetical sister an unsure response, she felt a soft tap from behind. Colette peeked over her shoulder and jumped when Edgar was staring down at her. He had a placid look on his constantly grumpy mug. His scarf was currently helping him fix his new rosy-red work vest onto his slim frame.

"Uh... Griff said you'll give me the tutorial?"

Colette turned back around to close her messages. With a sharp intake of air, she turned back around with a bit more confidence. "Hello, I'm Colette." She reached out a friendly hand.

Edgar dully stared at her outstretched palm, "You said that already."

Colette's internal screams were visible on her face. "Right, duh. Um... why don't yo—ou start by sweeping the floor?"

Edgar gave a lazy look to the brooms beside her. He gave her a heavy sigh, "Yeah, whatever."

She silently watched as he disappeared around the aisle and began his first sweep of the building. Colette could feel her cheeks heating up. Again, she jumped up screeching more outwardly this time. This was going to be the start of a beautiful new friendship.

Chapter Text

Why was friendship so hard?

Colette had been working with the emo for two weeks now and she had made zero progress befriending the teen. Her classic tactic of pestering the people around her until they broke showed no signs of success.

Yesterday she had grown tired of their lack of conversation. So she decided to try and find common ground with a simple question. "Hey Edgar~" She had dived in for a hug but was sidestepped by the emo.

As she skid along the flooring he dryly responded, "What now?"

Our snowy sweetheart didn't skip a beat, bouncing back up like a rubber band. "Who's your favorite Brawler?" Colette looked like a giddy schoolgirl. It was a standard question within Starr Park but it was personally her favorite.

Unfortunately, Edgar didn't agree. His strange scarf drooped a bit as the question left her lips. She was able to fully absorb his disgusting grimace as his eyes narrowed. It looked like he would spit on her grave if given the chance.

She curled in on herself a bit as he leaned close, "I... hate... Brawlers."

Edgar stormed down the aisles; his scarf snatching up a broom and cleaning as he went. She was left alone in the aisle. She tried her best to comprehend how the words 'hate' and 'Brawlers' could even be said in the same sentence. But no matter how hard she tried she couldn't understand how he could hate Brawlers and work at Starr Park.

He and Colette hadn't talked since then. Not without her repeated attempts of course. No matter how hard she tried to strike up a conversation Edgar would give her the cold shoulder all the way until closing. He had cooled down this morning but she could still feel this inky aura coming off him. But she couldn't understand his feelings. How could he feel such rage towards the main event of Starr Park? The pinnacle of entertainment and pizzaz that was brawling. What happened to him?

She wanted to ask more questions but she could tell he wouldn't be open to answers. Now she was stuck behind the cash register. Alone and bored out of her mind. He was again absently restocking the shelves with a minuscule set of black earbuds buried into his canals. She couldn't help but stare at Edgar as he wandered through the empty aisles.

His bored expression. The way he would periodically toss his hair out of his face. She would chuckle a little whenever his scarf would pass him the wrong items to be shelved. He never scolded the magical accessory. He would instead politely instruct it of the correct solution. It was adorable how they interacted with each other. A symbiotic relationship that had evolved into a familial bond.

Upon closer inspection it defiantly looked like his connection with the scarf wasn't mechanical. Their bond wasn't a machine and its maker. It was some bond that tied them together with blood. But if he was a Brawler, why would he hate them so much?

"Maybe he's just a human." Colette rested her cheek against the smooth wood, "A cute human."

She was so engorged in Edgar's aura she didn't hear the front door chime. She did however hear a hand slamming onto her table. Standing in front of her with a face as red as his hair was Colt. The veteran gunslinger had stormed inside with his clothes a mess and his mood sour. "Colette!"

"Y-Yes?!" She would usually be so ecstatic when seeing a Brawler she wouldn't be able to speak. But with the heat the sharpshooter was producing she couldn't relax.

Colt dropped a canister on the cashier. "What is this?" She could hear his feet tapping against the ground.

Colette brought her head low and examined the can, "It looks like EMZ brand hair spray."

"WRONG!" Colt snatched up the canister, "This is sabotage. This hair spray advertises to keep your hair full and vibrant." Colt pointed to his head, "Look at my hair!"

Colette noticed how the usually slicked back style he sported had been replaced with a mop of hair falling over his ears. She gave her best smile, "Well it's a beautiful shade of red."

Colt started pacing the room. Silently mumbling, "red, red, red." He snapped in her direction, "I look like a grungy ginger! I can still hear those kids laughing at me. What woman would date a guy with hair this gross?!"

Colette's eyes drifted towards the aisles. Edgar had disappeared from their view. With pouty lips she mumbled, "I can think of one."

Colt slammed his foot against the ground, "Are you listening?!"

Colette threw up her hands defensively, "I'm sorry Colt. If you want, you can buy another can."

"Another can? ANOTHER CAN?!" Colt started kicking one of the Max Energy drink displays. Blatantly defacing Starr Shop's property, "I don't want another can. I want a refund."

Colette bit her lip, "Sorry. Griff has a strict no refund policy."

"GAH!" Colt screamed his frustrations. He had somehow wandered back to the front door and was punching a hole through one of Darryl's novelty barrels. "No refund huh? No refund?" He palmed the can like a professional pitcher, "Well restock this!"

Colette saw the instant just before the canister would collide with her nose. She could see the undead queen winking at her from the metallic container. Just before the projectile made contact, a wool fist blocked her vision.

Edgar stood to the side with a box of Spike-themed socks in his arms. The scarf showed him the crumbled-up can and he scoffed, "Sir. I'm sure the hair spray isn't the reason you look like a bloody cloth."

Colt had to give him a double-take. This trashy teen seemed to show up out of nowhere. "I'm sorry. Who are you?"

Edgar's scarf undid his nametag while the boy placed the box on the floor. He looked at the golden pin, "I think it says, Edgar."

Colt pushed his hanging bangs out of the way, "Oh okay. I see. You think you're cute."

Edgar matched his motion and pushed his hair up. His scarf began to flow in the wind dramatically, "I'm adorable."

Colt ground his teeth, "Yeah? Well, how cute is this?" The Brawler unclipped his dual six-shot revolvers. There was a wild rage in his eyes.

Colette. sensing the danger, ducked behind the counter. She had seen Colt's bullets rip apart brick and mortar establishments. She didn't want to be on the tail end of that hailstorm. Edgar alternatively rolled his eyes, "Wow... hardcore."

Colt forgot the concept of trigger discipline and began free firing at the teen's chest. Edgar effortlessly rolled into the many aisles he had just finished restocking. Colt's rain of bullets pierced through the cheap wood of the shelves and threatened to pierce the weak shell that was Edgar's skin.

Colette peaked over the tabletop and watched as Colt blindly fired into the shop. The deafening sound of his rapid gunfire forced her to cover her ears. From over the aisles came a petty shower of items. From loose ammunition to designer fashion anything Edgar could get his hands on was used to apply pressure. Colette was stunned watching the new hire fight so fervently. He said he hated Brawlers, but he was fighting just like the best.

During Edgar's brief offensives Colt would rapidly reload his revolvers and try to locate the teenager. He refused to move from the open as he figured a fight up close would be disadvantageous.

The snowy maiden wasn't a weakling. She knew that the only thing that could stop a Brawler's rampage was another Brawler. She readied herself to join the fray but was quickly shot down by Colt. He would randomly throw a hand her way and cover her position with explosive fire. "I'll deal with you later snowflake," he spat in her direction.

The subtle sound of feet touching down appeared behind Colt. "Forget about me?"

"Not for a second." Colt flung his hand back to clobber Edgar's skull. But the magical scarf smacked the revolver to the floor. Colt tried his luck shooting Edgar with his weak hand but the goth forcibly raised the barrel to the sky. Colt could feel his wrist getting compressed under the teen's grip.

While standing eye-to-eye with the make-believe officer, Edgar realized how pathetic he was. The emo-assassin had a gloomy frown on his face like he was bored rather than annoyed at the sharpshooter. Colt continued to fight him with his free hand and threw a slow-rolling blow. Edgar's scarf was the one to intercept it this time.

With one hand in the boy's palm and the other swaddled in wool, Colt was forced to helplessly fight his impressive grip. He had been thrown around by many monstrous men since becoming a Starr Park Brawler. But this kid could give El Primo, the arena splitting wrestler, a run for his money.

Any further contemplation Colt attempted was silenced by the smooth and heavy hands of Edgar. His fists belligerently battered Colt's broad jawline. His scarf's opposing end assisted in the clobbering by bashing Colt's teeth in.

The sharpshooter was forced to his knees, but Edgar's punches-o-bunches refused to halt. Though Colt was unable to fight back Edgar did not relent in smashing his fists down his throat. When he noticed Colt losing consciousness he slowed down. Instead of assaulting him with a barrage, each swing was carefully measured to keep him awake. Ensuring he felt every punch Edgar threw.

Colette was horrified as she watched him abuse the now surrendering sheriff. "Stop!" she screamed hoping to the senseless slaughter. While it was true that Brawlers could survive attacks that would kill mortal men, they could die all the same. Their bodies allowed them to heal at an accelerated rate but an attack with enough lethal force could kill them all the same. With the amount of blood he was losing, Colt wouldn't last much longer.

Edgar's eyes snapped to her and she could see them soften a bit. He relinquished his grip on Colt's right hand. He had to inform his scarf that they were halting their onslaught though it still got in one clean shot before he walked away.

Edgar walked up to the counter with a calm exterior. He had a bit of Colt's blood staining his cheeks, but he casually wiped it away before asking, "Are you okay?"

Colette's voice in her lungs. 'Am I okay? Are you okay?! How are you okay?' She wanted to scream at him. He was just a human. He shouldn't have been capable of such power. Yet he battered one of the first Brawlers to ever dominate Starr Park. She didn't know what to say to him. But someone else did.

"HEY!"

Edgar turned around to a single fire round aimed through his chest. The diameter of the bullet was equivalent to or greater than a baseball and it flew through him like a rock through looseleaf paper. Edgar banged his head against the counter before crumbling to the floor.

Colette screamed as she ran around to check on him. His eyes were dull and she couldn't hear his breaths. Slowly rising with a bloody nose was the rampaging Colt. He spat out a wad of blood as he put away the spare gun. "That hurt..." he examined his face. He could feel the dents in his cheek, "THAT HURT!"

Colt stomped towards Edgar's corpse; shoving Colette to the side and using his heel to widen the hole in his chest. Colette shoved him to the side and tried to use her body as a shield. Colt just picked her up by her oversized jacket and threw her to the side. "Ah, this is nice." He again marveled at the soppy sound of Edgar's lungs squishing beneath his sole. "Stomping a hole through the trash and walking it dry. Just how I like it. Humans think they can measure up to genetic perfection." He twisted his toes around in the gash, "Pathetic."

Colette watched as blood stained the sheriff's foot. Edgar's body would convulse a bit with every stomp but he was unable to scream in pain. She couldn't retract the steamy tears rolling down her face. With a banshee-like screech she charged forward, a golden aura encompassing her body.

Colt turned into her hands smashing into his face. Her surge forward carried him with her as she smashed Colt's face back into the shop's interior. When she rushed back to her starting position she bolted back to Edgar's side. His head rested against her thighs as she prayed that he was still alive. His pupils had gone white with time. Again she cried a little, hoping that someone would come in and save him. Wondering why she wasn't fast enough to stop Colt. Wondering why he came to a park full of powerful monsters if he's only human.

Her silent prayers were interrupted by the defining chinks of Colt reloading. She looked up at two metal barrels pointed towards her. "Check out my guns."

Colt rained hellfire down on Colette. The girl tried to jump out of the way but several of the bullets found their mark along her legs. She was forced to roll to the side just below Edgar's stagnant feet.

Colt walked with a braggadocious swagger towards the fanatical girl. "Oh, Colette. Little fangirl Colette. You used to be so special. Everyone couldn't stop talking about the fan who joined her heroes." Colt picked her up by her hair, "But look at you now. Waisted and gasping for air." Colette groaned as Colt put the revolver against her cheek. "Guess it's true. Never meet your heroes."

Colette sneered, "I want my friendship bracelet back."

"Heh. I threw that thing away the moment you gave it to me."

Colette tried to move but her legs had gone numb. "What are you gonna do? Kill me?"

"Kill you? Colette. Colette. Colette. I wouldn't kill you, you're a Brawler. You're purebred. There are so few of us alive, why would I kill you." Colt peaked behind him, "But him... The less gene-less the better."

A swift shot to his ankles put the redhead on his rear. He dropped his guns again as he rubbed his aching behind. "Who has the balls?!" Colt demanded.

Wool wrapped around his neck and yanked him to the ground. As quickly as he was wrapped up the scarf relinquished its grip. Colt found himself laying on Edgar's corpse. He was startled by the scarf's ability to respond even when its owner had passed away. Maybe the fabric was alive as well.

He tried to sit up again but was snatched down by two smooth white arms. He nervously turned around and stared into the flaming inferno within Edgar's eyes. His cool demeanor ran like rats from light as he desperately tried to break free. But try as he might he couldn't break Edgar's deadlock grip. And from his prone position, he had no way to defend against the approaching Hail Marys.

Each punch from Edgar's scarf hit with the force of a bowling ball. Colt felt like he was facing a professional. A force equivalent to the men and women he had faced in the arenas. The same ones that could collapse buildings under their biceps. Yet somehow this scarf was matching his strength.

Colt could feel his brain rattling around inside his head with each blow. And worse than that, he noticed that the attacks were getting stronger. He soon blacked out from the mind-numbing pain. But just because he was unresponsive, didn't mean Edgar would stop.

It wasn't until a pair of gloved hands reached down that they were pulled apart. Griff threw Colt off to the side shouting the entire time, "What are you idiots doing?!"

Griff was disgusted at the amount of carnage he had missed. Bullet casings were lining the linoleum flooring. Woodchips scattered across the shelves. And he could feel the cold air pouring out of the shattered glass fridges.

Giff looked down at Colt's mangled face, "YOU! You did this?"

Colt spoke through a broken jaw, "Augh-ah gleh-boh."

"You're gonna pay for all of this!" Griff started dragging Colt by his blooding shirt collar. Colette could already feel her wounds closing as Griff dragged Colt out. Her boss didn't show much sympathy, "Darnit Colette. This is why I can't leave you in charge. All brawls are to stay outside of Starr Shop!"

Colette winced both from the scolding and the feeling of her body mending the wound. As the pain slowly faded she remembered Edgar. He had been shot through the chest by a bullet the size of a coconut. Even a brawler would struggle to survive an attack of that magnitude.

She wanted to weep but Griff allowed her no time to mourn, "Colette. You and Edgar get this messed cleaned up."

Griff slammed the door shut before she could respond. She silently cried, "But Edgar's... he's not a brawler."

"You okay?" Edgar's voice drawly questioned.

Colette saw him standing above her with a bloody-hand outstretched. His scarf mocked his movements by reaching out its soaked tail. He was still sporting that same bland expression that he wore when they first met.

Colette took his warm palm, cringing a bit from the coarse liquid across it. "How did?"

Edgar's scarf reached behind him and snatched up a pair of broomsticks. It kept a dingey tail across Edgar's chest as he spoke, "Let's get this cleaned. He'll probably be pissed when he gets back."

Edgar started casually sweeping around the shelves he originally ducked behind. Colette was still frozen from his shocking survival. She pulled him in her direction, "How are you alive?"

Edgar looked confused, "I healed."

"No. No, Brawlers can heal small wounds and gashes, but fatal strikes are still deadly."

"Yeah. That's why I'm alive."

"You aren't a Brawler!"

"I never said I wasn't a Brawler."

Colette stuttered, "B-B-But you..."

"I said I hate Brawlers."

Colette was stunned by the revelation. He was so adamant about his disdain for Brawlers that she never assumed he would be one himself. She couldn't wrap her mind around that. Not without help. "Why do you hate Brawlers?"

Edgar turned away from the fanatic fan. Something about that question always shut him off from her. Even now he chose to avoid the question, "Let's just start cleaning."

Colette again found herself unable to form a sentence. She was so confused. But prying any further would surely fray the thin rope of a relationship she had managed to tie between them.

The two silently began sweeping with Colette stealing peeks at the emo Brawler as she made her way around the shop. She noticed how the scarf refused to move its woven tail from across his pectorals. Her curiosity got the best of her. "How did you heal your chest so quick."

"We've been over this. I'm a Brawler, Colette."

Colette poked the aforementioned area. He winced beneath her touch, "You had a hole in your chest! A hole the size of your fist. You're not a healer are you?"

Edgar looked away from her with a small blush. His scarf visually huffed with frustration. When Edgar felt it reveal his chest he quickly covered it up with his arms. Again the scarf made a puffing motion. Instead of dealing with his constant resistance it quickly pulled on the ends of his shirt.

With the emo's head wrapped up in black linen, Colette had a full view of his body. Past the chiseled stomach and just below his perky pecs was a scar the size of a softball. She could see the cut slowly changing color to match his skin tone. Staring with a mystical amount of wonder at how a brawler's body would rapidly replace dead cells with childish ease.

Edgar quickly pushed the shirt down. He tried to bring his scarf up and hide his face but the fabric quickly pulled itself down again. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. "It's... the scarf." The aforementioned item did a little salute at its mention. "It's a hand-me-down. From my dad. It can heal the user. But it can only heal a percentage of the damage it can do. So I have to hurt others."

Colette was having a blinking fit. Edgar was a bit concerned about her with how long she was silent. Colette squeaked out, "That's... SO COOL!" She screamed into his droopy face. "You really are a Brawler." Colette gasped with star in her eyes, "You're the coolest BRAWLER!"

The scarf made way for her as she reached in for a hug. She ended up resting her chin on his sturdy shoulder. Edgar was flabbergasted, now desperately trying to pry the crazed girl off him. "Psh... wh-Whatever! Like I care if you like me."

Colette couldn't tell if he was blushing or frowning from his profile. His scarf had other ideas. As Edgar managed to separate the wild woman, the scarf snatched her back in. Wrapping the pair up in its woven embrace.

Colette snickered into his ear, "I knew you liked me."

"No! It's the scarf. It has a mind of its own! I totally don't care about you."

Colette could hear his voice warbling. With a mischievous smirk she asked, "Really? Then why did you protect me?"

She could hear Edgar's heart beating out of his chest, "Uh-Uh. I just... really hate Brawlers!" Edgar's scarf smacked him on the head, "It's true!"

Colette pouted a bit. "So you hate me?"

Edgar again looked to the side. With a bit of regret he managed a, "You're not that bad."

Colette was again diabetically sweet, "Then you like me!"

"NO!"

Colette could hear from his weak defense that he was warming up to her. She could also feel a strong connection swapping between them. She took a peek at his arms. His fingertips were jumping about like a praying mantis. His body seemed to scream he was uncomfortable, but she felt so safe inside his arms (or at least his scarf's arms). And she could see an inkling of a smile forming across his distressed lips.

As she kneaded her chin into his collarbone she couldn't help but coo, "Well you're my favorite Brawler."