good samaritan.
“Oh, no no no no no-- this isn’t going to do. Absolutely not.” Maddox could tolerate quite a number of things, yet when it came to fashion or make-up, it seemed his tongue was impossible to hold. He had been browsing the designer shoes section of the retail store when he spotted the horrifying sight about to enter the dressing rooms. How was he meant to stand by and allow such an atrocity to occur? And where were the bloody staff? Why hadn’t they already taken action? With a shake of his head, the gargoyle sauntered over to the stranger in a few long strides. His open palms gestured with a vertical slide at their faux pas, a single brow ticked well above the other in confounded judgment. “Seriously, what is this meant to be-- thrifter sabbath? Love, you need some emergency attention. Lucky for you, I’m feelin’ a lil’ good samaritan today.” His tattooed arm snaked around behind their shoulders and ushered them away from the dressing rooms and back towards the section of the store from whence the dreaded object of apparel in their hands came.
“Shame on you,” a scolding look was shot at one of the employees that passed, who then shot them a very confused look in return, but Aran didn’t stop to observe; he was committed to the task at hand-- saving this poor soul from a fashion disaster.
