lowlife princess

life predating the moment nadine was pulled inside ava's orbit seemed hazy now, like a dream slipping away as you wake. where once she agonized over every little thing, praying for resolution to all the problems she made herself, stuck in the vicious cycle of relapsing and sobering up the morning after, now she didn't have a single complaint about the life she and ava had constructed together. it was a labor of not only love but dedication from both of them, as all true loves are. the years she spent with ava had completely eclipsed the dark ages she endured in los angeles. and it's strange, because she used to be able to pick apart the city and name all the things she loved about it individually. in the present day, she realized that none of what she thought was real had been so. it was all made up, and like sand rushing through the gaps between fingers, it fell apart grain by grain the longer you held onto it. when she finally did let go, she thought her whole personhood would unravel—and it did. the ego death she was delivered from her leaving almost destroyed her, but the woman who rose from the cremation of her past self was ten times stronger than the it girl of hollywood she'd become since the release of her debut album. while it was a blessing, having such a smash hit and being acclaimed for the tireless effort she put into her work, it was just as easily a curse. she was glad to pack up her grammys and stack them on a shelf alongside her minor milestones; like her first place trophy from the sixth grade science fair, or when she ran track in high school and came in second, even her diploma, the only one she thought she would ever get. all small in comparison, but just as meaningful to her.

When Ava looked at Nadine, she didn't see her girlfriend the way that the public at large might have: as a former music industry darling, retreating from the limelight here in the desert. If anything, over the last few years of their blossoming relationship, the blonde had come to see the totality of what made Dina so special. The biker was kind, patient, creative, unapologetic. She was one of the most brilliant and loving people that Ava ever had the pleasure of knowing (let alone loving), unwilling to take shit from anyone—a quality that Ava herself flirted with in years past, that had only been emboldened since meeting her beloved. Every day in Nadine's presence felt like a gift, with surprises around every corner that just made the young Adler grateful for everything she had been through leading up to their fateful meeting. If wading through the utter bullshit that passed for a love life was the thing that ultimately led her to the gorgeous raven-haired girl's door, then it had all been worth it. She would gladly be the Gomez to her Morticia, always.

Clasping onto her girlfriend's hands with a fierceness that had become all too natural for the two, she smiled softly at Dina. "Aww, you're too good to me, sweets. You've also been working hard. You need a night off this week too... maybe we can take a day off together," Ava insisted, giving her lover's hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The reflexive urge to downplay the toll that her job occasionally took on her body didn't come from the same place of perpetual insecurity that might have colored her words years ago. Instead, her relationship had ushered in a selfless love for her partner that Ava had never experienced in earnest before. She didn't do things to make Dina's life easier because she felt she had to, to get the other to stay. On the contrary, Nadine's comfort and happiness was just as important as her own, even despite the blonde's reputation for adoring the princess treatment that her girlfriend freely and frequently bestowed upon her. But when Nadine sobered, sweet sentimentalities over their relationship falling like honey from her lips, Ava felt her heartbeat quicken—not out of anxiety or a distant fear of abandonment, but out of a growing excitement and adoration for her girlfriend that could hardly be contained by her body.

Her hands shook from between Dina's fingers, her cheeks flushed with every declaration of Nadine's undying devotion and gratitude for the relationship they'd built together. Before she could fully process the warmth of her lover's words, like crushed velvet against her skin, tears started to pool at the edges of her vision. Ava let out a breathy laugh, all at once annoyed with herself for daring to obscure such a wonderful sight and elated to hear the words coming from her girlfriend's mouth. Her stomach performed a death-defying swoop at the sight of the velvet box, breath hitching at the sight of the ring held within it—beautiful and so perfect for her. The words following pinned her in place, as if time outside of their trailer stilled... just for them.

Ava Jeanette Adler, will you marry me?

it had been months ago but what had happened halloween night was still looking over her. it all felt like a dream but there was a slight mark that confirmed it wasn't, that she'd been hurt and everything surrounding it was just so dark that there weren't any answers. mireya was a journalist and whilst her natural apteite for answers was active, self-preservation came out on top and there were some things she wasn't best knowing. las vegas was dangerous, she'd always known that but it felt more threatening now that she'd been impacted. her keeping it from her family was the most unnatural thing in the world - they always told each other everything, for the most part - she knew they'd want her back with them if she told them and then what would she have to show for it.

nadine had been irreversibly in love with ava from the moment her mocha eyes transfixed on her cerulean ones for the very first time. that might've been a bold statement, but it was the god's honest truth — when love was once a labyrinthine complexity, it all began making sense as soon as she met her bandmate's sister. how strange a fate was that; how she was always there, always just out of reach, both of them with their hands extended and managing to find one another in the ceaseless chaos of the city. she could vividly remember the life she had before this one, wherein she spent her hours dazed and confused, transitioning from studio sessions to the club to mansions that offered her nothing but the siphoning of her own soul and free will. looking back, it was much worse than she remembered it being at the time. if she hadn't had ava there, introducing her to a love forged in all-fire that eclipsed all other burns she'd been given by her self-annihilating existence in los angeles, she would've never fully realized the extent to which she was taken advantage of and abused. but now that they had one another, nadine could clearly see they'd had equal parts in the healing of their respective souls, and suddenly it made everything that happened before worth it. the road behind them was a rough-paved, treacherous one, but they'd conquered it. and they'd keep doing it, hand-in-hand, for eternity. starting with a meticulously crafted ring that nadine hoped would convey all her gratitude and adoration. for the years they spent together; for the times spent apart; for the infinite versions of their future that awaited them when the night ended and the day broke.

Her gaze softening at the sight of Nadine's dimples, an admitted weakness of the blonde's, Ava couldn't help it: she broke into a wide and warm grin, letting the look of utter fondness overtake her features. Being around her girlfriend tended to bring out the softer side of the spitfire. It was hard to believe that the girl practically melting at the sight of the raven-haired rockstar in her element was the same unruly and perpetually angry adolescent that had terrorized the Las Vegas underground fighting scene (and local police department) for the better part of her young adulthood. These days, though, she was content to trade the evenings of getting her knuckles bloody, unleashing every ounce of repressed fury and grief over the untimely death of her brother on anyone crazy enough to indulge her impulsively violent whims, for a simpler life with the woman she loves. It was the privilege of Ava's life to be a safe place for Dina, especially once she learned the more intimate details of her girlfriend's troubled past. No one had ever considered her a safe person before... not in the tender way the two girls regarded each other, at least. Ava had always been the "good time girl," a chaotic force of nature that people called up whenever they wanted to get into a bit of trouble. According to these fair weather friends, the blonde wasn't built for anything more than that. But when it came to Nadine, she could be someone to lean on, and it was a responsibility that the young Adler took seriously. In turn, she was eternally grateful to have found that in Dina for herself.

Looking at both objects he rubbed at his chin, nodding his head a little. "Well I suppose I have to say the butterflies. Aren't butterflies after all really more romantic than most things? Especially when its a pair of them? Like thats just seemingly saying, hey here is me and you as these cute little butterflies." Adrian was questioning his own logic, but he supposed it made somewhat of sense.

Reconsidering the pair of butterflies with a theatrical, drawn-out hum, Ava held the frame out in front of herself, attempting to put herself in her girlfriend's shoes to gauge a reaction of how this gift might be received. Though she adored the act of giving (and receiving) gifts, she often got caught up in the pressure of choosing exactly the right thing for the people she loved, and this decision was no exception. Not for something as monumental as an anniversary. "You know what... I can totally see that," the blonde agreed, a giddy smile blooming across glossy lips at the idea of comparing her and Nadine to the two butterflies, frozen in time alongside each other forever. "I mean, what could be more romantic than being preserved together for all time? Oh, she's gonna love this, thank you!" Ava exclaimed, placing the coffin frame back onto a nearby shelf and clutching the butterflies to her heart.

Now that her shopping mission for the day had been accomplished, she regarded her companion, blue eyes sparkling with determination. "What about you? You need help picking something out for someone? I mean, no offense, but you don't really look like a regular here. That suit is way too nice," the cosmetologist deduced, putting her eye for quality clothing to good use. "I mean, I could be wrong, but I know my fair share of eclectic goths, and you don't really seem like one of them. So, tell me: is there anything in particular you're looking for? Or were you just hoping for inspiration to strike?"

though coming here multiple times, marisol still felt like she was out of her depth every time she entered the store. this was more reina's territory, but she was on her own. when it came to the two of them, marisol was more ashley banks, while reina was more phoebe buffay. they complemented each other, reina’s eclectic nature fitting in perfectly with marisol’s musical chaos. they lived in a hodgepodge of color and creativity, giving tulip a home that reminded marisol of her own. which is why finding a gift for her was so hard. it wasn’t a special event or anything, she just felt like showing her appreciation for her girl. she had been looking for the entire day, going into practically every shop on the strip to find something worthy of reina wozniak-adler. finally, she settled on alchemy and co. to find a gift. ( did she forget it existed for a second? maybe. no one tell reina. )  as she looked through the various shelves, she was excited to hear someone asking for her help. “ava!” she says with a grin once she realizes who it is. “you’re not bothering me at all! and i love your outfit.” taking a second to look at both of the gifts, she points to the coffin picture frame. “the butterflies are more witchy to me, but if she’s anything like rei, she’ll love it. but when it comes to romance? i think the butterflies are more romantic. unless she’s on the darker side, then i say go with the coffin. " she takes a breath, trying to make up her mind. "final answer? coffin. and it's not because i want those butterflies for reina. but i totally get you right now. i’m trying to find a surprise gift for her, and i’ve been everywhere. thought this place would be the perfect place to look.”

Blue eyes widening with recognition when she realized that the person serendipitously in the same aisle as her was actually a friend, Ava couldn't help herself: she let out a giddy squeal, delighted at the sight of the familiar face. "Ahh, Marisol! Fancy meeting you here," the hairdresser cheerily greeted her sister's roommate, swallowing up the brunette into a warm, tight embrace. Pulling back just far enough to regard Marisol from arm's length, the blonde raised a perfectly manicured brow at her. "Seriously, what are the odds? This place isn't exactly our style, is it?" she remarked, though her budding curiosity over the reason for Marisol's visit to the off-the-wall shop was swiftly sidetracked by the compliment to her outfit. Beaming at her friend, Ava took a step back to give a twirl, plaid skirt fanning out around the petite former fighter as she lowered herself into a dainty curtsy. "Why, thank you! You look pretty adorable yourself today."

Just as quickly as her focus had drifted to the topic of her attire, Ava regarded to two items in her hands with a newfound clarity. "Oh, you're so right," she breathed, turning the coffin frame over in her hand reverently. "Dina's vibe is way more Morticia Addams, so I think she'd appreciate the coffin more than the butterflies. And if I get a photo of the two of us developed to put in here, that'll be just as romantic." With a decisive nod of her head, the blonde nearly placed the preserved butterflies back onto a nearby shelf for another patron to find, before turning to her friend, a spark of well-meaning mischief in her eyes. "Wait... if you're looking for something for Rei, why don't you take the butterflies?" Acting as if the suggestion was entirely her own (instead of a thought born of Marisol's own mouth), Ava exchanged a knowing look with her friend. "I think she'd love any surprise gift from you, but if this called out to you in particular... why not?" Though Reina insisted that she and Marisol were just friends, Ava couldn't help but notice how close the two were, co-parenting her sweet niece Tulip so lovingly in their joint household. She couldn't help herself: she wanted to play Cupid.

nadine + ava : march 2, late evening @ their trailer @sugcrxspice

It was hard for Ava to reconcile a past where she had to beg for affection from people that were never willing to love every part of her, broken shards and all. Before Nadine, the blonde felt destined to settle for scraps in an unforgiving dating pool, only ever developing attachments to those that didn't return the full intensity of her devotion. But since finding a more mutual and loving partnership with her now girlfriend, the hairdresser grew to see the romantic and sexual dalliances of her past for what they truly were: a girl so convinced that she was fundamentally unlovable, she went looking for validation from just about anyone willing to spare her a few pretty words and some of their time. But with Dina, she didn't spend her days wondering why she wasn't good enough to publicly claim, why she always felt like far too much for anyone that casually flitted through her life, like she was just a way to pass the time instead of something worth sticking around for. Walking hand-in-hand through life with Nadine was more than enough for Ava, through all of the insanity and mundanity of their shared life in Vegas. For the first time, she never found herself lacking, never wondered if she needed to change the messy parts of herself to fit more neatly into the musician's life. Their home was evidence enough of that, with both of their aesthetics proudly on display right alongside each other: girly frills and pastels coupled with gothic and vampy statement pieces galore (two things that might have clashed, but instead shone just as brightly together). In fact, the long-forgotten insatiable fury that once burned bright and hot in the former fighter's chest gave way to something softer in the last few years—less raging, untamable wildfire and more glowing hearth. She was grateful to learn that passion didn't have to come with volatility. Her relationship proved that an all-consuming love could be safe and tender too.

Hot girls like dead things and pretty blondes, she could vouch for that. "Oh, you know what? I saw this piece over here that would be perfect for an anniversary, follow me." She turns with a little flourish, simply trusting and expecting the girl to follow her down an aisle full of trinkets and jewelry, reaching over and picking up a chain, a heart locket in tarnished silver dangling from the end, engraved with a red heart in the center. It was stunning, she'd marveled it herself for a moment, debated the purchase but had to come to terms with the fact that she had far too many necklaces as it is. "Put a picture of your pretty little self in here, any pets you might have; you'll have her purring."

A delighted gasp bubbling up from her throat at the stranger's remark, the cosmetologist beamed with pride, bending into a dainty curtsy in response to she perceived to be a massive compliment: the mere assumption that her girlfriend was hot. "Ugh, she is hot! Which is why I need this gift to be perfect. It seems only right to get a girl that stunning something she'll love and treasure for the rest of her life. I mean, come on, it's not like I'm asking the universe for a miracle or anything: just one life-changing token of my affection," she remarked petulantly, deciding in that moment that this stranger was now her ally in this mission. After all, who wouldn't trust the opinion of an equally fabulous individual? Anyone with taste in clothes and accessories that rivaled her own surely knew what she was talking about.

Trailing excitedly after her new friend, Ava couldn't stop herself from rambling as she followed close behind. "Okay, I know that now is so not the time. One shopping mission at a time. But I've got to know where you got that bag. It's gorgeous," the blonde gushed, ever appreciative of the finer things in life (even if she had to be a little thrifty to get them). At the sight of the heart-shaped locket, just haunted and antique enough to fit right in with Nadine's plethora of vampy jewelry, the hairdresser let out a delighted squeal. "Oh, that's stunning! And with a picture of me inside, she can keep me close to her heart. What could be better?" Ava decided, clutching the piece to her chest for good measure. Exchanging a wicked grin with her companion, the former fighter agreed. "That's the goal. And now that that's settled," she trailed off, flicking tresses of blonde hair away from her face with her free hand, manicure still perfectly intact. "What about you? On the hunt for anything special today, or just looking?"

"Ohmygod, why didn't I think of that? You're a genius," Ava declared with a giddy shimmy of her shoulders, placing the coffin picture frame back onto a nearby shelf. Assessing it one last time with a thoughtful tilt of her head, she agreed, "Yeah, the coffin frame is much more 'til death do us part than the butterflies. Not really in the spirit of an anniversary, but I'll keep it in mind for a proposal or wedding gift." The blonde barely resisted the urge to word vomit on the stranger about her mounting suspicion that her girlfriend might be gearing up to propose in the coming months, the superstitious part of her not wanting to potentially jinx it. Finally sparing a glance down at her decisive savior, who was kneeling in what looked like an impossibly low crouch, the hairdresser's back straightened at the chance to return the favor. After all, it was the young Adler's specialty: rifling through bargain bins and cluttered thrift stores, on the hunt for exactly the right thing.

"Alright, whatcha got for me?" she prompted cheerily, studying the opalescent vial and jar of blown glass with all the careful consideration of a seasoned shopping savant. "If you're looking for something pretty, I say go with the one on the chain. The color is gorgeous—it keeps shifting in the light and when you move your hand. Plus, you can wear it around your neck. A good accessory is enough to make any boring outfit feel ten times prettier in my experience." Taking a moment to consider the carboy and its indigo trappings, she admired it for a moment before locking in her decision with a firm nod. "Yup, I'd go with that one. It's dainty, cute, and travel friendly. What more could you want?"

the regrets from last night haunt Bambi like a ghost clinging to her shoulders yelling into her ears, makeup smudged around her eyes and her heaviest sunglasses on her face to hopefully cover the suns evil rays; to say Bambi was hung over was like saying water was in fact wet- it was stating the obvious. She groaned ruffling through her bag looking for her keys as she tried to remember where she last put them, praying she didn’t leave them at her friends apartment ( she probably did ) and closed her eyes taking a deep breathe to quell the rising nausea that was forming in her gut. A thought came to mind as she took a sharp breathe in to take another look into the laptop case that was slung over her shoulder letting out a soft noise of joy and then a quick groan as she wrapped her hands around the spare set that she always kept in that very bag, the ones she knew she might need some day in case of her stupidity. Jumping wildly as she heard someone behind her and whipping around clutching a can of pepper spray she breathed . “That is a fucking good way to get maxed or worse, Jesus wear a bell or something god.”

Ava was certainly no stranger to the local police station. On the contrary, in her adolescence, she could've been considered a regular around this place. But since refocusing her youthful ire with the world to more constructive pastimes than petty theft and destruction of property, it had been years since the blonde had to be bailed out by one of her siblings. No, that morning, she was merely passing through the neighborhood, enjoying the fresh air before a day cooped up at the salon. With her secondhand brown suede coat warding away the slight chill in the winter air, black faux fur collar resting atop her shoulders like a furry companion, Ava's boots crunched lightly on the ground, hardly making a sound as she rounded the corner and spotted someone wearing the cutest pair of sunglasses she had ever seen. As tactless as ever, the hairdresser's jaw gaped open with all of her usual dramatics. Instead of announcing herself the way a normal person would, from a safe distance, she scurried up to the stylish stranger and blurted, "Ohmygosh, where did you get those glasses?" Before she could inquire if they were designer or not, her dormant fighter's instincts kicked into gear at the sight of the pepper spray in her hands, her heart hammering in preparation for a fight. She didn't do that sort of thing anymore... but it was hard to fully convince her nervous system of that. "Whoa, I'm not looking for any trouble, I swear," she replied, raising her empty hands for good measure (another old habit this close to a police station). "I just want to know where you got those shades. Do you know about stores around here that I don't?" With that last question, it was Ava's turn to sound defensive, a manicured brow raising in suspicion.

"Huh? Sorry." Cyrek wasn't particularly a daydreamer, nor did he have a pattern of dissociating into outer space unless he was in the clutches of the wretched manifestation of every mental ill that revealed the wallpaper peeling at the edges — granted, he was hovering somewhere around that drain to spiral down since Halloween and sitting on the bench of knowledge that was weighing him down. The divorce was already looming over their heads, and it made the occasion of Hanukkah another awkward one for the Adler siblings to twiddle their thumbs and hum-ho about. An eyeroll was quick to chase after, a hand striking her shoulder in a shove that beheld no amount of brute force behind it, and probably couldn't if he tried against a bottle blonde who had more strength in her pinky finger from an underground fight club that he did, and probably learned all the dirty tricks he had up his sleeve to win a fight from none other than the vocalist himself when he was being pushed to the edge of his limits in his schooling days. She parried her way back in with no contest and a five-kilo sack of potatoes, a huff escaping him in return. ( A display that they were two sides of the same coin, and why fighting was a fruitless endeavor between the two hotheads. )

You okay there? A resounding grunt was the initial answer that he indulged his younger sister with, upturning the bag of potatoes into the sink and running the water over them to be peeled when they were thoroughly dirt-free. Talking about feelings and emotions and the nitty-gritty was something that the Adlers sorely fucking sucked at — at monumental levels, it would seem, as they hadn't done the leg work to improve in it much since Kurt's demise by his own hand. For most families, that would have torn them apart entirely, or forced them to band together and resolve their issues and differences — not the Adlers. They were stitched together in this lopsided way, a sort of brokenness that went unspoken, like it was a secret forbidden to be breathed in the halls, lest they come to life and the residue of sorrows seeped through the antiquated papering. He sniffed, a wonted sound borne of a nose busted too many times to heal right and robbed of hardly any sense of smell, picking up a potato and a peeler, standing next to her at the sink and meticulously beginning to peel around it in a circular motion. "Do you wanna talk about it?" The punk countered her with a rhetorical.

He paused, mid-peel. Ava wasn't precisely prying, she was testing the waters. Cyrek could rationalize that, unlike when they were screaming at each other in a dark parking lot seconds before the ball drop on New Year's Eve. The person so volatile to react in a split-second notice and drop all pretenses of niceties had been improved, somewhat, although the gems didn't glisten beneath the bed of rock beneath the earth's surface. No molten lava trickled to the top. "I mean, I dunno, feels like it's somehow my fault that mum's gettin' a second divorce —" After setting the scene of the last catalyst to the first marriage, it was hard to shake free of that contrite that he wore like it was a color to match his eyes. Heart-shaped tiers bowed in a frown. The occasion wasn't sorrowful, but in the silence, his disquiet snuck back up on him. "And... I dunno. I've never had parents... who stick together, I guess. I'm just a lil' nervous about me and Stella sometimes."

It wasn't like they clashed, or had spats; in fact, the only hump they had in their marriage thus far was the enteric disembowelment by the Vitellis causing a strife, but he hadn't filled the Adler siblings in on the major-minor details at play behind those injuries. ( It didn't seem pertinent. )

Unable to help the amused, shit-eating grin on her face at the good-natured shove from her older brother, the simple action on his part was enough to marginally assure Ava that Cyrek was still in there, maybe just rattling around his thoughts in his head. The gesture harkened back to childhood days of getting into shoving matches over the bathroom mirror, wrestling each other for their favorite spot on the sofa. After all, the punk was a large reason that she'd eventually gained a reputation as the scrappy fighter that she was (though her days of throwing punches just for kicks were largely behind her). They weren't exactly the most open and cuddly family on the block, choosing to communicate the majority of their feelings through grunts, gritted teeth, or and impassioned shouting. But that didn't mean that there was no love or genuine affection between the hodge podge of adopted Adler children, either—they just had an unconventional way of showing it. After all, she cared deeply about all of her siblings and wanted nothing but the best for them, even when they were quarrelling or at odds. It was a marvel that their clan could be so united even on their worst days: their very own isle of misfit toys.

Giving a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders, the blonde positioned herself directly in front of the sink, water running gently over the potatoes as she got to work, ensuring that they were thoroughly scrubbed clean before she passed them to her brother to peel. "I mean... I wouldn't mind talking about it," she remarked, keeping her tone light. Though Ava had taken steps to be more open in her romantic relationship, the same wasn't always the case when it concerned her family dynamic. There were still too many ghosts haunting the old Adler house, wounds from years ago covered with rough and uneven scar tissue—technically healed, but not very pretty too look at. It was simply the way their family operated, holding each other up to get through whatever fresh hell life seemed determined to throw their way.

And though she no longer had a tendency to fly off the handle the way she did in her youth, her approach to difficult conversations like these was still clumsy and uncertain.

"Your fault?" the blonde echoed incredulously, the disbelieving question bursting out of her just a smidge louder than she meant, pursing her lips together as if she could take back the exclamation that rang out in the silence between them. Lowering her voice, Ava asked more gently, "Cy... why would that be your fault? Unless there's a lot I don't know about what happened between them, I'm not really connecting the dots." She knew firsthand that her brother had a tendency to blame himself for nearly everything that went wrong in their house. Sure, maybe that feeling was based in some level of reality. As the eldest, he did always have the lion's share of responsibility heaped onto his back. But all of the Adler children had made their fair share of mistakes over the years. Shouldering the collective blame for what happened to Kurt was enough to make any of them assume the worst of themselves, but that didn't stop the hairdresser from feeling defensive at the mere idea of Cyrek blaming himself for their mother's divorce.

Her gaze softening at his admission about the people in his life not sticking together, she spared a glance over at him, hands pausing beneath the running water as she struggled to reconcile the anger she felt on behalf of his younger self with her sincere admiration and affection for her older brother. "None of that is your fault either. I'm sorry if anyone ever made you feel that way before." Unfocused blue eyes shifting back down to the potato in her hands, she sighed softly as her hands continued the idle work, passing it over to Cy. "The only relationship you can control is yours with Stel. And the two of you are different than Mom and Dusty. I mean, duh, right? That goes without saying," she attempted to joke, a small grin tugging at her lips. "What I mean by that is... you guys built your relationship on a strong foundation, you know? You get each other. So, as far as I'm concerned, as long as you stay on the same team, you're golden."

WALKING INTO ANY STORE WITH AVA at her side had the queenpin well aware she'd be the one withholding the restraint for the two of them, the thought justified as soon as the blonde began diving through racks and piles of folded baby clothing. Such a position wouldn't be uncharacteristic of her, considering she was running the finances for both the Fawn residence, the record shop, and the Cats, a critical eye on the the flow in and out of cash and a brain that somehow hadn't been too fried by years of substances to ruin a natural aptitude to think numerically, (though, put her in the candy aisle at the grocery store and suddenly all of that seemed to disappear). Still, there was an upturn of her lips at the corners as she trailed after the blonde throughout the store on feet she refused to admit were already slightly swelling just enough to be annoying, though the thought was gone and her attention pulled from the jumper in her hand to arch a brow at what had Ava unable to contain her own excitement. "Opening with it being obscenely expensive is not helping your sales pitch there, I gotta tell ya." Even so, the tiny replica of what was regularly strewn across the backs of chairs in the trailer was impossible to be labelled as anything but stinking adorable, even if it hadn't even been forty eight hours since her husband had pointed out (and promptly earned a middle finger for) that her affinity towards anything baby-sized was reaching all time records when she couldn't stop herself from awing at all the previously packed away items from years ago once they had been pulled out and dusted off. "I'm not arguin' with you there, but y'know how many onesies you can get for the same amount of money? 'Cause I'm gonna need a shitload of 'em unless you're volunteering to do my laundry for me that first month." Despite the dryness of her tone, her voice lacked any true animosity that would imply it was anything but a joke (if maybe a hopeful one). "But it would be pretty easy to wipe spit up off of...Make it your baby shower gift. It'll be the best one there." Flopping the discarded piece of a clothing of her own hand back on her shelf, her lips blew a raspberry as she considered the loaded question set forth. "A lot. I mean, we got a ton of the girl's old shit and that helps, but there's just so much that I feel like I'm somehow still unprepared." Possibly anticipatory on her part, considering she hadn't even hit the halfway point, but considering the waterbed was already starting to be a struggle to pull herself out of, Stella would've rather taken care of things now over later. "Still on the lookout for a stroller, though. We got AJ's out and a whole wheel popped off the damn thing. And before you ask, no, we are not stepping one foot anywhere near maternity clothes. Even if I run out of huge band shirts, I'm not putting on those ugly things."

"Hey, it's obscenely expensive for something at the thrift store, not for the fashion world at large," the blonde belatedly corrected herself, her voice taking on that particularly saccharine tone that she usually reserved for getting people on her side. She'd already made up her mind that the miniature leather jacket was coming home with her, she just needed to find any reason to justify her impulse purchase for the impending new arrival to the family. After all, it was her God-given right as an aunt to bend to the will of her siblings' children and indulge them with superfluous, impractical gifts. For Ava, that duty begun long before they'd even exited the womb. "That doesn't mean we can't still get a bunch of onesies!" she conceded, blue eyes drifting to the section of baby clothing in question as she got to work, rifling through the tiny clothes in search for something... a little more practical for the incoming months (that simultaneously didn't look way too cutesy for Stella's taste). "I love you, but I think I'm gonna pass on that one. I barely have enough energy put away my own laundry. But you know I'm gonna be over there changing diapers all the time to let you guys get some sleep," the hairdresser offered as a compromise, a playful lilt to her voice. At the approval of her gift idea, Ava let out a triumphant squeal, her face breaking into a wide grin as she gave a singular hop. "Oh, hell yes—this is gonna be the most badass baby shower gift! Not that it's a competition or anything... but if it was, I would win. No contest." Though her childhood days of competitive athletics were far behind her, Ava just couldn't help herself, her grin taking on a Cheshire smugness as she considered the idea. With as much as she adored her sister-in-law, adopting her as an older sister figure long before Stella and Cyrek started dating, she wanted nothing more than to shower the biker with the best gifts she could get her hands on. Anything to help with the new baby, she would gladly assist with. So, she summoned the eagle-eyed determination that she usually reserved for shopping outings exactly like these, ticking off the items on her fingers. "A stroller, a ton of onesies... got it. Those can be our top priorities today. Please, you really think I would let you walk around looking like a frumpy mess for the rest of your pregnancy? Just because you're growing a human doesn't mean you can't look good while you do it. So I'll just go ahead and add 'cute baggy clothes for Stel' to the list," the blonde decided, her tone leaving no room for argument. Like a hunter locked in on her prey, the hairdresser zeroed in on a particularly promising pile of onesies. "Lucky for us, this place is overflowing with baby clothes, and most of them are dirt cheap. We just have to find ones you like."