"Squirrel Girl?"
Su Ming, standing beside the evaporation cauldron display case, called out to the girl because he was not entirely sure of her identity.
The squirrel-ear hair clip on her head and the fluffy tail behind her should have been proof enough, but in Su Ming's impression, although Squirrel Girl had over a dozen different uniforms, they were all roughly the same sort of getup: "little leather shoes, tight pants, my name is Squirrel, remember it." So unfashionable it became fashionable.
But this ochre T-shirt and filthy baggy shorts combination looked wrong no matter how he looked at it.
"Yes, yes, that's me. Heehee, my friends all call me Doreen, and Mr. Deathstroke can call me that too. I'm your fan. When I was little, my grandparents often told me stories about you. They scared me so badly that I often couldn't sleep at night, afraid you'd crawl out from under my bed and take me away."
The overly familiar Squirrel Girl squeezed out of the crowd and jogged over to Deathstroke in quick little steps. Tilting up her face, she said with a smile:
"I'm eighteen this year and don't have a boyfriend yet. I'm a freshman at New York Empire University, majoring in video game design. My favorite animal is squirrels, my favorite food is nuts, and my favorite sport is competing for discounted goods at supermarket sales."
Her round little face was full of optimism, but was that last part of the introduction really necessary? Besides, competing for discounted supermarket goods was not exactly an effective workout.
"...You were scared of me when you were little. Why aren't you scared now?"
Su Ming looked curiously at the large tail swaying behind her.
Could it be like Gotham's Bat-fans, who developed a warped dependence through extreme fear?