ACTUAL HONEY BADGER ROSETTE CHRISTOPHER (
soul_sister) wrote2013-07-01 06:18 am
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IC Contact
This mailbox is currently useless and I'm not bothering with it. Please try my secretary.
((OOC: She will be answering things here, naturally. She's just a jerk.))
((OOC: She will be answering things here, naturally. She's just a jerk.))
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[ gdit. He follows suit, casting his eyes about for the ammo box that he has carefully kept her out of for the past few months. ]
No, not exactly. You know what day it is, right?
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[She pulls out her tablet, turning it on to see....... the.......... date............]
It's my birthday? When did that happen?
....... No WONDER you were being nice. [FREE PASS DAY!!!!]
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[ R U D E ]
What's that supposed to mean, exactly?
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It's not my fault you can never wake up on time.
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[Despite the tone, she's craning to watch him. THAT IS NOT A NORMAL PART OF MORNINGS... He... didn't? Did he?]
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From the bottom shelf, among the twisted and faded magazines and a dime novel or two, he withdraws a small, relatively nondescript package and holds it out, color starting in the tips of his ears. What is the protocol for this? Is he supposed to sing? Dance? Recite some ritual words??
He has no idea, so what she gets instead is: ]
Here.
[ Nailed it. ]
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T... thanks...
[She gets her fingernails under one of the seams and rips at the wrapping.]
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Well... it's your birthday, so...
1/2
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[And like that, she's gone. The door to the bedroom closing behind her.]
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(Is this good?
Is this bad?
Did he fuck it up?
That seems really likely given the high incidence rate of him fucking things up.)
He just... takes a seat in one of the abandoned chairs, and waits. ]
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So? What do you think?
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A long, hesitating pause. It's odd to consider, and... he really never has before, how Rosette's never had time for things like this. Dresses, shoes, jewelry. Things other girls her age always seemed to be preoccupied with.
For the first time, he thinks that might be a shame. ]
... It's looks great. [ No, wait. ] You look great.
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Thank you! ... I love it.
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—Really?
[ Really? It fits? It's the right style? The right cut? The right color? The right fabric? All those things the shop keeper had gone on about, that had mostly fallen on deaf ears? Really? ]
It's... it's okay, then?
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Where did you even find it?
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[ Feels foolish, suddenly—had picked out the dress two whole months in advance—and averts his eyes, color still high in his cheeks. He has to resist the urge to fidget. ]
Lenalee helped pick it out. Oz paid.
[ "paid" ]
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Beyond even that... dealt with other people to get it.....]
I think... Maybe when we can, we should go out somewhere fancy. Just for a night.