So, there's pretty much no way short of physical violence that someone is going to get him into that room, not after his conversation with Sam, but he's okay with a party for the most part. He's not overdoing it, just something bubbly and mostly clear so he has something to do with his hands, and trying not to be as mystified by the tree and the glitter as he kind of is. He's fully aware that he's underdressed in his worn jeans, CAT boots, working flannel and T-shirt, but he doesn't have anything else to wear, so he's making up for it by being extra smiley.
If he keeps making rounds of the hallway outside the room in question, he's not going to point it out. (He is.)
...well, you didn't think she wouldn't say hello, did you?
"Dean!"
She sounds delighted, and with her hair up and in a dress, Jaenelle actually looks - pretty different from her usual. Is still practically glowing. It's a party! And ...mostly going well. Which is to say there's been no accidental transfiguration. "Hello! I was hoping I might see you here."
No, no he didn't, and why on earth would typist care? Dean does like her, they're just... strange together. Not necessarily in a bad way.
And she's glowing tonight, and no accidentally transfigured, and neither is he, so they're off to a good start. He turns at his name, a small smile already starting to hide the jump of guilt that is his natural response to being hailed; it spreads into a more genuine grin when he sees her.
"Hey, sweetheart! Damn - no one told me there was a dress code," he teases.
Typist has worries sometimes. On account of being a kind of neurotic little thing.
Good start! Indeed. Hahaha, that was...yeah. Last time. Yep. At any rate, though, she only brightens more at the genuine grin from him, and mocks a little curtsy. "I just felt like dressing up," she says, with - of course - a little bit of a blush. "I don't do it very often, so, well..."
She is seriously adorable when she blushes, and better believe Dean has noticed. He's a little more enthusiastic than he'd originally intended when he says, "You should. Dress up, I mean. It ain't like occasions just pop along randomly, here, so why not?"
She ducks her head a little and looks at him through her eyelashes. "That is - well, how I look at it, basically. I mean, this isn't really a proper Winsol party, but it's close enough, I think? This is - I've been doing something like this for a couple years."
She tips her head at him. "Do you ever get dressed up?" There's a bit of a twinkle in her eyes.
Dean tilts his head to look at her right back, then makes a show of scanning the room, looking at the people, the food, the drink, the tree, the decorations; when he looks back at her, he nods as if something is settled.
"Looks like a proper party to me, sweetheart," he offers, and then she's asking him questions and he blinks, spine and shoulders straightening. "Uh... no. No time for it. I mean, and... I wouldn't know where to begin anyway. We don't.. No."
"--you could, if you wanted to," Jaenelle says, noticing the change in posture and somewhat confused by what caused it. "I mean, it can feel silly or annoying when it's for things you don't really want to do. But sometimes it's fun."
Dean remembers dressing up to get into the confidence of victims or suspects, sometimes each option more ridiculous than the one before, but he can't ever recall having done more than showered and put on clean clothes and maybe some cheap cologne of his own volition before. Certainly nothing remotely close to the league across from him.
"Um. Well. Here's the thing... nicest thing I've got is a pair of jeans with no holes in 'em and a black t-shirt. So. It ain't like I'd look much different than I do now, all dressed up with no place to go."
"That's what the plothole is for," she says, earnestly, and plucks at her dress. "I didn't arrive with this. I didn't arrive with anything. But I asked for this and there it was."
"Wait, what?" he abruptly changes tack, eying her dress. It's mock indignance in his voice, but he's very good at making it look and sound real, so she might be fooled until he adds, "I asked for that same dress and it gave it to you!?"
And if that wasn't ridiculous enough to clearly be a joke, he grins a second later.
Jaenelle blinks, looking momentarily intensely worried, and then laughs, abruptly, startled but amused. "I guess it just likes me better," she says, crossing her arms. "Or maybe it just knew it wouldn't look very good on you at all."
Jaenelle's face suffuses with pink. She always blushes easily, but that is a definite one, and a different flavor of one, pleased and flattered and embarrassed all at once. "Thank you. It's - it's been a good evening." She glances at him through her eyelashes. "I'm glad to see you here."
The corners of his mouth pull up at her words, but it's not quite a smile until a moment later when he looks down, reaches up to scrub the back of his neck with one hand.
"I'm glad to be here, sweetheart," he says at last, dropping his hand away and actually smiling at her.
If he keeps making rounds of the hallway outside the room in question, he's not going to point it out. (He is.)
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"Dean!"
She sounds delighted, and with her hair up and in a dress, Jaenelle actually looks - pretty different from her usual. Is still practically glowing. It's a party! And ...mostly going well. Which is to say there's been no accidental transfiguration. "Hello! I was hoping I might see you here."
She smiles at him, bright and sincere.
[OOC: I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND she insisted.]
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And she's glowing tonight, and no accidentally transfigured, and neither is he, so they're off to a good start. He turns at his name, a small smile already starting to hide the jump of guilt that is his natural response to being hailed; it spreads into a more genuine grin when he sees her.
"Hey, sweetheart! Damn - no one told me there was a dress code," he teases.
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Good start! Indeed. Hahaha, that was...yeah. Last time. Yep. At any rate, though, she only brightens more at the genuine grin from him, and mocks a little curtsy. "I just felt like dressing up," she says, with - of course - a little bit of a blush. "I don't do it very often, so, well..."
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She is seriously adorable when she blushes, and better believe Dean has noticed. He's a little more enthusiastic than he'd originally intended when he says, "You should. Dress up, I mean. It ain't like occasions just pop along randomly, here, so why not?"
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She tips her head at him. "Do you ever get dressed up?" There's a bit of a twinkle in her eyes.
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"Looks like a proper party to me, sweetheart," he offers, and then she's asking him questions and he blinks, spine and shoulders straightening. "Uh... no. No time for it. I mean, and... I wouldn't know where to begin anyway. We don't.. No."
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"Um. Well. Here's the thing... nicest thing I've got is a pair of jeans with no holes in 'em and a black t-shirt. So. It ain't like I'd look much different than I do now, all dressed up with no place to go."
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"Wait, what?" he abruptly changes tack, eying her dress. It's mock indignance in his voice, but he's very good at making it look and sound real, so she might be fooled until he adds, "I asked for that same dress and it gave it to you!?"
And if that wasn't ridiculous enough to clearly be a joke, he grins a second later.
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"Ain't that the story of my life," he grins back, not in the least upset. Obviously. "And that is certainly true. I ain't got the hips for it."
A beat later, he allows himself to be slightly more serious - okay, a lot more serious - and hopes it was the right decision to make.
"It looks great on you. You look great."
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"I'm glad to be here, sweetheart," he says at last, dropping his hand away and actually smiling at her.
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