[url=https://youtu.be/XbWDWoC6X4I]Ye Ol' Convenient Munition[/url] — [i]ding;[/i] the doors of the storefront whip open, and a girl steps through, her expression dark, her nose... gone — either smashed in, or ridden of altogether. She strides forward, her feet [i]stick-sticking[/i] on the ground, her hands resting in translucent black sweatshirt "pockets." Her straight-ahead stare never wavers; she seizes her prize:

A visored helmet hanging on the wall. Decoration, but Candelabra promptly sits it on her head. She wanders around with this new visage as it clearly proved a detriment to her vision — she staggers into a weapon rack, removes herself with effort as the hilt of a longsword drags the floor, its blade impaled through her torso. 

Candelabra's shoulders shake in a fit of silent giggling. 

She swings her arms in a facetious march, albeit with such horrific spacial awareness that herself, or her sword, must have bumped into someone on the way to the front of the store. This was not with the intention to leave, for two reasons: the BO outside had gotten ridiculous, and the sounds of butting heads was growing from competitive to violent, to the point where someone had nearly flattened her under the girth of the Christmas tree, something that would take her a good few minutes to recuperate from. Bothersome. 

Candelabra never doubted a day at the mall could be so chaotic. It must've been Black Friday. Did that correspond with the holidays?

Regardless, if she was going to trail the group of familiar faces as she currently was, the least she could do was cover their expense. It was the polite thing to do. 

Through the visor, she recognized the vague semblance of check-out, ringed the bell mainly because it was there, then [i]spat[/i] a medallion out into her hand like a rotten tooth, laid it on the counter. 

"What is this?" a rasping voice called out to her. "I don't think I can take this."

Candelabra, not understanding, lets another medallion roll from the back of her throat, down her tongue, onto the counter. 

"How are you doing that?" asks the voice, suspicious. "Still, I can't take this money." 

(Candelabra is unaware she is interacting with a [i]literal[/i] cash register right now.)