IC Contact

[soul_sister]

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.))

Comments

[soul_sister]

[She takes it, a particularly matching hue spreading across her face. WHEN DID HE EVEN? HOW DID HE EVEN? WHAT IS THE PROTOCOL HERE? APOLOGIZE FOR NOT GETTING HIM ANYTHING? .... JUST. OPEN IT?]


T... thanks...





[She gets her fingernails under one of the seams and rips at the wrapping.]

[overclocking]

[ Once she gets the parcel open, a bundle of red fabric slithers its way out — a bundle that reveals itself to be a cocktail dress. Slim-fit but high-cut, with a slit for mobility. It's reminiscent of something from their time, though clearly not purchased there. ]

Well... it's your birthday, so...

1/2

[soul_sister]

[She pulls it out, holding it up into the air out of the box. The cardboard hits the ground at her feet.]

[soul_sister]

Stay RIGHT there.

[And like that, she's gone. The door to the bedroom closing behind her.]

[overclocking]

[ ........... Ok.

(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. ]

[soul_sister]

[It's at least a few minutes, punctuated by some pacing on the other side of the door. FINALLY, she opens it, wearing the dress. Her hair is down, but still frizzy from the coif, and lacking heels, she just went barefoot instead... but her expression is positively glowing.]

So? What do you think?

[overclocking]

[ Ah.

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.

[soul_sister]

[She laughs, bright and warm. She doesn't twirl or sashay, but her hands smooth over the fabric modestly, enjoying it.]

Thank you! ... I love it.

[overclocking]

[ He seems to deflate some, like a wire pulling him tight has finally loosened and allowed him to breathe freely again. ]

—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?

[soul_sister]

It's perfect.

Where did you even find it?

[overclocking]

When we were in Las Vegas...

[ 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" ]

[soul_sister]

[On the other hand, she's floored by the fact he'd not only thought of it two months ago... but went out of his way to keep it from her...



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.