*-- highly flammable, [open]

Style Street. The place was right up Pendulum's ally. What with the wild clothes, the bright hair, the absurd make up. She was a work of art, and this was the gallery in which she hung. To be honest, Style Street was where she spent most of her time. This was like her home away from home, she felt so... welcome here. This was the place she fit in. This is where she belonged.

As Pitchy (Pen to most, Pitchy to few- if you could call her that, then you were really in good with her) wandered the place, she took the time to lean in to look at various window displays, check out the salons to see what people were doing to their hair. Her fingers subconsciously brushed her new tattoo, the pretty design on the inside of her elbow. She quite liked it, and didn't plan on having it removed or changed any time soon. Her make up was as wild as normal, and her hair was back to black, which was sort of like her inbetween colors color.

While she was looking at the new fashions, watching with mild curiosity as the people had different treatments done, she accidentally ran straight into someone, landing on the pavement with an 'oof'. Suddenly she was on her butt, with her legs spread out and her hands on either side of her hips. "Ouch." Looking around, she shielded her eyes as she got up, then turned to see the person she'd run into. "Um, sorry about that," she said with a sort of grimace, not particularly fond of being on the ground.