It’s bright and early on a Saturday morning when the question occurs to Eda.
“Hey, kid. When’s your birthday?”
Hunter looks up from the book he’s got his head buried in. “I, uh, I don’t… know?”
Something about the way he says it makes Eda suspicious, but she doesn’t push. Hunter’s reaction to any sort of pressure swings wildly between fight, flight, freeze, and fawn, and she doesn’t want to ruin a perfectly good morning for both of them. “Okay, well, how about today?”
He cocks his head. “Huh?”
“How about today? For your birthday.”
“You mean, like, making today my birthday? But that doesn’t make any sense.”
Eda takes a sip of her apple blood. “And? You need a birthday and I need an excuse to buy you some new stuff.” It’s true. Four days into his stay at the Owl House, Hunter’s worldly possessions amount to the clothes he’d arrived in, his mask, and a bag full of books, pens, and whatever a sixteen year old felt the need to pack when running away from everything he’d ever known. It wasn’t much, and he couldn’t wear Eda’s old clothes forever, no matter how much he seemed to like yoga pants and graphic tee shirts.
Hunter pins his ears back, eyes downcast. “You don’t have to do that for me, ma’am. I’m fine with what I have.”
“One: don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old.”
“You are old,” he interrupts.
“Two: don’t call me old. Three: no, you’re not. You have no clothes, kid. Do you even have a coat?” Silence. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. And if it’s the money you’re worried about, don’t. My lifestyle isn’t exactly expensive, and I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t have anything to give.” She suspects Hunter is still grappling with the concept of money. Growing up simultaneously spoiled and neglected can’t have done anything good to his sense of the cost of things.
He chews his lip. “...Okay.”
“Great! It’s decided, then. We’ll go to the night market tonight and see what we can find. In the meantime, let’s make a list of things you need. What kinds of clothes do you like to wear?” He gives her a blank look and yeah, okay, she should have seen that one coming. “Alright, square one it is, then.” She pulls out her scroll and hands it to him. “Start looking around at some clothing webspites and see what you can find.”
An hour and several cups of apple blood later (damn, that kid might like it even more than she does), they’ve got a working list.
STUFF HUNTER NEEDS (INCOMPLETE)
“What else do kids own?” Eda wonders out loud.
“I had a lot of books back h— back at the Emperor’s castle.” Hunter frowns. “I miss the library.”
“Don’t worry, kid. We’ll get you set up with a library card, too. And I know a book shop at the night market I think you’ll love.”
“Alright, let’s start with clothes shopping. Trust me, it’s not something you’ll want to do later when you’re tired.” Eda places her hands on Hunter’s shoulders and gives him a gentle push into the cloak shop. “Don’t look so scared, they’re just coats. And the owner and I go way back, trust me, she’s alright. Right, JJ?”
JJ, a hulking demon with purple skin and hands for eyes, nods. “Of course. Everyone is welcome in my shop.”
Hunter’s shoulders are creeping up around his ears. “Okay,” he says finally. “Where do I start?”
She almost makes a snarky remark, but she reminds herself that this is a kid who’s had his clothes tailor-made his entire life. Of course he doesn’t know where to start. “Well, let’s take a look around. Tell me if you see something you like.”
The first fifteen minutes of cloak shopping are agonizing. Hunter doesn’t say a word, just sticks close to Eda’s side as they make a slow circuit of the shop. All of Eda’s prompting goes unanswered and JJ, perhaps picking up on Hunter’s tenseness, heads back into her workshop with a, “Ring the bell when you’re ready to pay.”
Finally, they reach a rack of long, simple cloaks with blue exteriors and soft yellow interiors. Hunter looks at them for just a fraction of a second longer than the others, and Eda pounces.
“You like the look of that one, kid?”
Hunter shrugs. “I guess.”
“Wanna try it on?”
“Sure.”
Eda frowns. “Do you really wanna try it on, or are you just saying that because you think I want you to try it on?”
Hunter’s eyes go wide and he stares up at her in confusion. “I…”
Nice, Eda. Way to freak the kid right the hell out. You’re great at this. “Sorry, sorry, forget I said anything. Let’s try it on, yeah? You look like you might be a medium. Not the mystical kind, the size.” Hunter laughs weakly and she counts it as a win. Yeah, she’s great with kids.
As it turns out, Hunter is a medium, and as soon as he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his face lights up. They leave the store after only half an hour, not bad for a first shopping experience.
“Next, we’re going to check out a store with a bit more of a variety of things, so that you can get a feel for what you might like clothing-wise.” How does one help a teenager who’s never picked his own clothes before develop a sense of style? “Just try on whatever catches your eye, yeah? We’ve got all night, so take as much time as you need.”
Hunter falls into step beside her, clutching the bag holding his new cloak tightly to his chest. Flapjack fluttered along beside him, chirping something only Hunter could understand.
“I know, Flap,” Hunter responds to whatever had been said. Then, to Eda, “What kinds of clothing do people my age usually wear?”
“Whatever you want, kid.”
Whatever Hunter wants turns out to be very black and yellow and blue. Graphic shirts and loose, practical pants and the softest socks he could find. He’s slowly warming up to the idea of shopping, moving faster and faster around the racks collecting things to try on. Flapjack follows him dutifully, chirping his opinions and occasionally pecking at Hunter’s head when he froze up or got that distant look in his eye.
While Hunter shops, Eda looks through her scroll, reading yet another article about raising abused children. So far, Eda’s been unable to pick out any underlying pattern to Hunter’s triggers. Sometimes, they’re obvious: a quick gesture, someone stepping into his space, yelling, loud noises, men with long hair. Others are more subtle, and Eda feels at a loss for how to help when something as innocuous as a pair of boots can send the kid spiraling. The bird seems to have the right idea, so Eda follows his lead.
After about an hour, Hunter returns to her with a pile of clothes and a tired smile on his face. She looks through them quickly, making sure there’s nothing wildly inappropriate and that he’s covered all his bases. He has, but before she can offer to help him carry the stuff up to the counter, he coughs uncomfortably and says, “Can I try on one more thing?” He’s blushing ear to pointy, notched ear.
“Of course. Want me to take a look at it and tell you what I think?”
Hunter chews his lip, looking anywhere but her eyes. “I. Um. It’s kind of…” He shuffles his feet. “CanItryonadress?” Before she can respond, he barrels on, hands fluttering in front of him in that way they do when he’s anxious or excited. “I know it’s technically for girls, but outside of the castle people don’t really seem to care, and I found this one that’s really pretty and has pockets and—”
“Calm down, calm down. Of course you can try on a dress, Hunter.” Someday, she’s going to find what’s left of Belos and put him through one of those food processors Luz showed her from the Human Realm. “Wait, wait, let me come with you to grab it, because the sizing can be a little tricky.”
Timidly, he leads her to the dress. It’s yellow with a small floral pattern in a deeper, almost orange shade, with buttons down the front and short sleeves and a skirt that would come about to Hunter’s knees. It’s simple and cute and somehow exactly like everything else he’s picked out, and when Hunter comes out a minute later grinning ear to ear and flapping his hands, she knows the kid’s found his new favorite piece of clothing.
He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt and pants under it, and she realizes she’s never actually seen his arms or legs. There’s probably something to that, but right now, all she cares about is the smile on his face.
“Eda! Eda, it has pockets!” He shoves his hands in them to demonstrate. “And it twirls!” He shows that off, too, almost running into another shopper.
“You look great, kid. Gonna wear that next time you see Willow?” His previous blush has nothing on the one that lights up his face like a Titan-damn billboard.
“I, um. Do you think she’d like it?”
“I think she’ll love it.”