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It wasn't his first time meandering slowly between racks of clothing, playing at small and unnoticed. Jude always aimed for the busiest times, when men in suits and women trailing distinctive, expensive perfume filled the place and occupied the attention of any wandering saleswomen. His own suit was outdated, a grey pinstripe rescued from Salvation Army but given fresh life with the help of a friend's sewing machine; that coupled with the crisp maroon of his shirt made him more than passable as part of the crowd.

Two things, and only two things, made him stand out. The first was the fact that, at seventeen, he was unusual in bot his clothing and his interest in the row of silk shirts he was currently not-quite touching. The second, ironically, was the fact that he so desperately didn't want to get noticed. He curled in on himself a bit, flicking nervous glances out of the corners of his eyes instead of calmly perusing and grabbing and retreating toward the dressing rooms to try things on.

He finally reached out to smooth the sleeve of one shirt between too fingers, and flicked a proper look up and around, almost guilty. Suspicious.

Jude, unfortunately, was rather terrible at confidence. His default -- at home, at school, and especially in stores -- was a kind of cringing attempt to make himself look small, to go unnoticed. His immediate response to her approach was to drop his hand and let go of the sleeve, starting guiltily, and very much looking like he was planning on stealing something.

His eyes flicked past her and around, checking to make sure the place was still busy. It was, though perhaps not so much as he'd wanted. A slow flush crept up over his cheeks, darkening his ears especially.

"No, I was just...was..." The words fell like stones, nothing graceful or comfortable about them, and definitely not confident. He looked like a deer staring down the line of a rifle. "Was just looking?"

She was a sudden whir of movement, and Jude had two choices: stay where he was and stare at her stupidly, or move to trail after her. The second was slightly less suspicious, he thought, slightly less weird -- so he followed, dark eyes flashing past her and around the store, flustered by the thought that people might be looking at them. Might be listening. Might over hear what he had to say. Jude chewed on the inside of his cheek and struggled for an answer.

"...um. I'm not sure...not sure I'd have enough to...to cover these." A beat, hesitation, uncomfortable, color very bright on his cheeks. He almost matched his shirt. "Right now."

There were rumors enough, through the grape vine, that Jude hesitated with the shirts in his arms and only debated arguing for a moment. Then he stepped back, somewhat uncomfortably, to close the fitting room. It took him too long to try them on; time spent sitting on the bench and swiping at his hair and trying to cool the hot blush across his cheeks and throat.

Somehow, this made him feel younger, was reminiscent of days when he was very young -- when he'd get shuttled into the changing station at Walmart, deemed 'good enough', and cheap purchases had been made. Except here the shirts were of a fine enough material that he worried about his watch catching on it, took the time to strip off everything before he put it on.

And it worked. He poked his head out and crept around the corner, suit jacket in hand, to stare mournfully at his reflection. It looked nice.

Phina bubbled over with her excitement: Jude, even at sixteen, was a sharp contrast to that, quiet and serious, his expression hard to read. Guilt would show, yes, and embarrassment lingered, but when it came to things he liked, Jude had the sense to hide it. Old habits, not to show when he actually cared.

So he just blinked up at Phina, still smoothing fingers over the soft end of one sleeve, and nodded a little. Hesitant. It seemed like she was trying to sell it to him, indeed, but there was little chance of that happening.

"It's nice." Probably not the gushing, enthusiastic reply she wanted, and also not a fair representation of Jude's thoughts. He liked it. He wanted it. He just had enough sense to know he couldn't have it. He took one step back toward the dressing room.

She got a wide-eyed look of panic, and Jude's eyes flashed briefly around the store -- hunting to see if there was anyone there who knew him. His eyes landed on a three business women [separate, not together] fingering through the displays. No danger there. Flashed onto a girl still in her Crystal uniform, and that was hardly a problem either. Finally settled onto the bright orange of two older girls from Meadowview with a young man in tow...

And he flushed. They likely hadn't even noticed him. Likely wouldn't. But somehow, that still left him nervous enough that he couldn't bring himself to lie, even if he wanted too.

"Jude." It was a mumble, though, mostly under his breath, with a quick look back to the dressing room and his own discarded clothing.

"I should probably get, uh, get to work." This, though, was clear, brilliance, with a widening of his eyes and a quick look back to her.

Phina would be able to hear the way he startled, on the other side of the door, head turning around and hesitating just a moment before he offered it. Yes, he was done, working on getting the knot in his tie just right with one last look back toward the mirror. His hair, now, was a rumpled mess, static making fine blond strands stand up in every direction -- but there was nothing he could do about that but wait. Or maybe dip his head under the sink.

"Sorry." It was reflexive, the apology bubbling out of him. Jude double checked to make sure he hadn't left anything on the floor before he stepped out of the dressing room, hesitating at the clothes still on the hanger. Presumably it needed to be vacated so someone else could take over the space, and for this moment he was crippled with uncertainty as to if he should clean up before he went.

"I don't mind...that is to say..." He floundered, stepping out of the dressing room with a hand still on his tie and his coat over one arm. It made him look younger and older at the same time, a mirror copy of some high class business man in miniature. Or a young man playing dress up in his father's clothes -- except that everything fit him so damned well. Tailored to fit. He blinked up at Phina and huffed out a breath, finally moving to put his coat on again.

"Sorry. Ah. Sorry. Thank you for letting me try them on." There, the picture of careful politeness, except for the way the words came out a bit stilted.