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Ah, yes. Malls. Those big, big buildings that entire neighborhoods are taken over to make room for. Horrifying cesspits of the epitome of adolescent stereotypes, with pimply cashiers sighing behind counters and droves of females squealing between sales. Human nature at its very worst- if you can conquer the mall, you've conquered it all, some say.

Oh, hey, there's one that opened up down the street a coupla months ago. Maybe you could check it out. Go on, it'll be fun!

It's one to leave the safety of his domain- the kitchen- for the sake of necessities like food or clothes or other things, but being shoved outside to head to a place Sylvest doesn't feel like he needs to be in?! Pure insanity!

Okay, okay. So he's not the brightest socialite in the sky. But that was just that one time he sprayed ink all over the display comics in the bookstore when a stranger thumped into one of his extra arms! And... yeah, there was that whole thing with those girls in the grocery store... and the girls in the parking lot of the grocery store... and the girls in the parking lot of this mall...

The octopus lad shakes his head, which has gone back to a trademark bowl haircut. No! Just walk around for a while, pretend to be interested in some of the clothes, maybe pick up some books, and head out. That was the game plan, and nothing could change tha-

A sudden glare and barrage of loud, indeterminate noise breaks that chain of thought. He finds himself staring into a black abyss of a doorway within a brightly-colored retro-modern doorframe, arms at his back still white and writhing from the shock. An equally retro-modern sign above the door states that this is the ARCADE. More noise and flashing lights can clearly be detected inside, and the place smells vaguely of spilled soda and food court scraps.

He finds himself slowly drifting inside, like something great and wonderful is beckoning him from within.

Sylvest was actually only a few inches shorter than Teagan at this point- they aren't called the giant octopus for nothing! However, despite how vicious he's supposed to potentially be, the boy flinches and his arms coil as the elder Eden addresses him. "Um- yes, that's me," he responds awkwardly, trying to recognize the almost completely dark male standing before him.

It takes a few seconds of the colored lights reflecting on his thick glasses before he perks in memory, and his tentacles quickly take on the same gray-and-white striped pattern as the lemur's tail. "Oh, you're Teagan, right?" They're not much more than friendly acquaintances, but Sylvest still grins in relief at finding someone familiar. "It's been a long time!"

His seaweed eyes don't stay on the familiarity for long, however: they drift around, prospecting the dark scenery, like a sea terror searching for prey to stalk.

"I didn't fall in!" Sylvest said defensively, arms flaring red around him. "I jumped in to help someone who fell in!" His arms are crossed in boyish defiance, gaze cast at the stained, sticky floor. "Mom says we keep getting letters from the aquarium. They wanna make me an exhibit or something." He suddenly wishes that he were back in his den that was the kitchen.

"I'm just... looking around, is all," the octopus lad responds, kicking at imaginary dust and trying to look cool and aloof. He doesn't want to admit how tempted he is to wrap his arms (which are now subconsciously flashing the bright colors in sync with all of the lights) around a pair of joysticks and go wild like some of the cool people in the room being cheered on by small gaggles of fans.

Seeing how cool and smooth the older Eden is, and how he is with that gaggle of friends- well, it makes the poor octopus boy feel much, much more lonely and awkward that he did before. The only thing that's stopping him from the tell-tale jerky movements of a total nerd is the fact that his movements are naturally smooth and fluid. His arms swoop about behind him as he follows Teagan further into the noisy abyss.

Sylvest swallows nervously as he looks around. Nothing that he wants to say are surfacing into words, and he can feel the tension pressing him on all sides like a submarine in way too deep. Oh, how much he wants to try one of those games. But just... going to one out of the blue doesn't feel like the best idea. What if he makes a fool of himself picking one that's broken, or the one everyone thinks is stupid, or one that's too hard for him?

His thoughts drift to Karoko, the pretty bat girl, for a bit. She's good with machines and stuff; probably a whiz at all of these.

Oh god, they noticed him. He would really like to crawl into a hole until the fist of awkwardness playing his ribcage xylophone-style would go away, but Teagan is his friend (right?) and he doesn't want to hurt the lemur-teen. So he slowly glides forward until he's just about in the middle of the gaggle of people.

It's a good thing he's only about a head shorter than most of them despite his age, otherwise it would have been too much to bear. "Ummm... hi. Yeah, I'm Sylvest," he says, politely holding out his hand to Beckie to shake, an obvious blotch of blush on his cheeks upon being greeted- and defended!- by a female. An arm at his back offers itself to Jake- if he can get the greetings out of the way as quickly as possible, maybe he would feel a little better.

Jake's outburst causes Sylvest to yelp in surprise, tentacles flailing and flashing white again before he calms down. If anyone's standing in front of him, they will probably now have a sizable ink stain on his or her shirt, courtesy of a siphon tucked into one of the octopus lad's saliva glands. It takes him a few seconds to catch his breath through the purple teen's incredulous flailing, and then the poking. He isn't good with stress!

Two of the arms instinctively wrap around Jake's wrists and push them away after the prodding becomes too much. It won't do any actual damage, but the guy will probably be going home wearing bracelets made of small hickies. Sylvest realizes what he's doing probably a little too late, and barely manages to babble out an apology.

He wipes a trickle of ink from the corner of his mouth with one of the Things protruding from his back before responding. "They're... just arms. Octopus arms," the lad explains, displaying another in such a way that all the suckers can be clearly seen. "I have four. I, uh-- this sounds weird, but... I used to be a giant octopus. In a past life. Or at least that's what my mom says. I don't remember anything of it."

Frankly, it's amazing that he's still willing to talk after that spasm of his.

Teagan might have interrupted the saucy purple one, but he had caught Sylvest's attention. "What's that mean?" he asks with all-too-innocent boyish curiosity, inspecting the suckers on all of his arms to see if they've suddenly grown fangs or something. "Mom's been saying weird things like that a lot when she isn't busy." And now he won't rest until he figures out what they're talking about- but really, his mother's game plan with the subject is to toss him a couple stacks of porn mags and prenatal care textbooks and let him figure it out.

Even though Jake had caused him to totally blanch, Sylvest's blush returns at full force when Beckie continues being so nice to him. "Ski-ball? What's that? I know I've heard it in a movie, but I've never played it," the child inquires, silently cheering to himself at not having tripped on any words.

Sylvest almost reaches to take Beckie's hand when she offers it, but it proves to be too late and he sighs in the small defeat, tentacles sagging in a drab brownish color. It looks like the Jake fellow is just one of those people who sticks in your side and takes getting used to, so the boy does something socially smart for once and ignores him.

He listens to Beckie's instructions carefully, looking up at the track. "So it's like miniature golf, except smaller and with your hands?" he asks, taking a ball in his hand and releasing it onto the track with a fluid movement of his wrist.

The ball, however, decides not to go into any pointworthy slots. Sylvest huffs a bit, but manages to keep his cool. There's a couple more tries and flops with both his right and left hands as he gets used to it: one just barely manages the bottom target, and it's becoming harder and harder to keep his frustration in check. His arms become red again and the mottled skin on them becomes to take on large goosebumps of annoyance.

Without really thinking about it, he takes one of the six remaining balls in an arm and rolls it a little fiercely up the track with a large lulling wave down the boneless appendage. Surprisingly enough, it hits a very good mark- not the coveted bullseye, but one of the targets just under it. The octopus lad seems pretty shocked with himself. "Hey... I got one!

A small, confident grin begins to creep into his features as he picks up another ball.