Maxima had shooed him out of the apartment some time ago, under the pretence of wanting K’ to restock their ice cream supply. Really though, he figured the big lug just wanted to have the apartment all to himself for a couple of hours. That was fine, he supposed. Even Maxima needed time to himself, and he’d been getting bored, anyhow.
Since he wasn’t in any sort of rush, he’d been wandering the city for a while with no clear goal in mind. Just stopping to peer into shop windows every so often, chewing leisurely at the strip of jerky between his lips. Currently, he was looking at a clothing display, since Whip kept insisting he needed a wardrobe that wasn’t solely comprised of leather. … Yet she bemoaned some of his choices for whatever reason; something about them looking tacky or some such.
K’ migrated to the inside of the store, making a beeline right towards the t-shirt racks, since they were closest. He began flicking through what was on offer, occasionally pulling something out to get a better look at it. What even counts as tacky, anyway? he wondered, pulling out some garishly red monstrosity to frown at contemplatively. And what does it matter, so long as it’s comfortable and I can fight in it?
He put the shirt back to search for another, unaware or uncaring that he was receiving funny looks for the frankly terrible choices he was pulling out.