gonna_live (
gonna_live) wrote2009-02-07 09:57 pm
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Simon's idea of making up for missing a week is for the two of them to pick something they want to do the next week. Something special. And they each get to pick something.
When you think of something you want us to do, name it and we'll do it, he tells her. Absolutely anything.
Kaylee doesn't know what she wants to pick.
Simon's pick is a fancy dinner out at some restaurant that's apparently got to be serving edible gold on a plate for how hard it is to get a reservation. And they have a dress code.
One problem at a time.
At their appointment, Diana suggests a trip to the formal boutique within the Galeries Lafayette, saying that they're known for being helpful and discreet.
What if they laugh, Kaylee says, and Diana shakes her head, and tells her they won't: the store is old, really old, and one of their business tenets since their reformation after the exodus is to be all things to everyone, no exceptions, no matter the event. One of the benefits of jamming everyone from Earth-that-was together -- some of us did learn how to get along, she says, and smiles.
Thus it is that Kaylee enters a small showroom within a ten-story department store, looking nervous, and almost hellaciously awkward.
When you think of something you want us to do, name it and we'll do it, he tells her. Absolutely anything.
Kaylee doesn't know what she wants to pick.
Simon's pick is a fancy dinner out at some restaurant that's apparently got to be serving edible gold on a plate for how hard it is to get a reservation. And they have a dress code.
One problem at a time.
At their appointment, Diana suggests a trip to the formal boutique within the Galeries Lafayette, saying that they're known for being helpful and discreet.
What if they laugh, Kaylee says, and Diana shakes her head, and tells her they won't: the store is old, really old, and one of their business tenets since their reformation after the exodus is to be all things to everyone, no exceptions, no matter the event. One of the benefits of jamming everyone from Earth-that-was together -- some of us did learn how to get along, she says, and smiles.
Thus it is that Kaylee enters a small showroom within a ten-story department store, looking nervous, and almost hellaciously awkward.
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"Here's a few possibilities," Dara's saying, her fingers moving smoothly over the touchpad.
The silhouette splits three ways, dividing into smaller copies of itself, and a different dress type appears on each one: short and tight, long and flowing, mid-calf and full-skirted. The dresses are otherwise featureless as the figure wearing them.
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Her hand hovers over the touchpad, ready to consign the entire category of short dresses to oblivion.
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If they're going to judge her, it's not going to be as a woman who shows more than she should at a nice place. Not while she's with Simon.
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The figures split and shrink again, this time into about a dozen copies, each now displaying variations on the long dress and the mid-calf dress. Full or narrow skirt, straight hem or handkerchief hem or asymmetrical, short sleeves or long sweeping sleeves or long tight sleeves or straps, high collar or medium neckline or deep vee.
"Which ones do you like?" Dara asks. "Take your time."
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Kaylee looks away (and asks herself: why is this so stressful, why is Simon making me do this) and considers.
Slow: "You go wrong more with more furbelows than less, is what I've seen. We're needin' to stick with the straight hem, and plain sleeves -- short and capped off like this, maybe." She touches just below her shoulder. "And don't need to be showin' off any assets, neither -- keep the neckline all modest."
If he's making her do this then she's not giving him anything to look at. Plain and simple.
" -- and a high back," she adds, suddenly.
(There are scars.)
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"Something like this?" Dara asks.
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And nods.
"Simple enough. Shi a. Like that."
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A few more touches on the keypad and the dress abruptly takes on color and definition: a cloud-soft beige silk with a pattern of light brown branches, accented with a scattering of green leaves and pink peony blossoms.
"Like this, maybe?"
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"Works for me. Let's do it."
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At least it'll be easy to find a scarf to go with, Kaylee thinks, tired. I'm going to kill him.
Pushing herself up from the chair, she nods.
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Dara takes down the dress and hands it to her with a smile. "Just right through there."
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It fits.
She runs a hand down the skirt -- silk, she thinks, the real thing -- and looks in the mirror.
Turns her head to one side, then the other. Turns around, and cranes her neck over her shoulder.
Lost weight, she thinks. Just not where it matters. But the way it's cut, it's nice to the hips, so they won't notice what I look like now.
Feel like a fraud with this thing on. Least all the others are put away. Just one more for the collection.
"Reckon it's to my satisfaction," she says, dress on its hanger in one hand.
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This time, Dara's can I help you with anything else? is a quick formality; she already knows the answer.
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Outside it looks like it might rain. Kaylee shoulders the long bag, and readjusts her grip on the bag with her shoes, and looks up at the sky.
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The airbus back to their part of town stops about a block away.
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That's all she needs. Rain. Or snow, maybe. But it doesn't feel cold enough to snow.
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The thing about walking with your head down --
"Kaylee?"
-- is you don't see people you know until they're close enough to call you by name without shouting.
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Resigned.
She stops.
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And stopping; he can't fall into step with her if she's not moving.
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