Adrien Fitzgerald is usually seen dressed in only the latest styles. Whether it's jeans, slacks, dress shirts, shoes, he always looks good. Presentable. Not so much the case right now
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Tess, laden with bags and bundles stumbles out of the toy store with the look of a woman who's been through a war zone and slumps onto the nearest bench. With a relieved sigh, she leans her head back and closes her eyes. Eventually she'll realize she's sharing a bench with another person.
"Those who were about to die, lived. Dammit! Did I remember Robbie?"
Someone's speaking. She hears their muffled voice through the ear plugs she'd donned before braving the toy madhouse. She smooshes down one of the bags to see.
"Sorry. Come again?" she pulls out the earplugs and pockets them. "I didn't hear you. Only way to maintain sanity inside there at Christmas time."
"I was wondering if you needed any help. And this is why you order ahead, cherie." He gives her a charming grin, almost reaching to run a hand through his hair before he remembers the many obstructions there.
'Thanks, no. Didn't mean to push you off the bench with my packages." She moves bundles to the ground at her feet. "Clothes you can order ahead. Books can be ordered ahead. Toys? Not so much, especially the little ones necessary for stocking stuffers." She huffs a lock of hair from her eyes. "Besides, it's a rite of passage testing the human animal's capacity for survival."
She grins. "Or insanity, possibly masochism. Are those butterfly clips?"
“You’re a braver person than I am, that’s for sure. My daughter is in this store right now, but she can get around, being seven. I don’t expect she’ll be in there much longer, too.” He grins. “The clips were her idea. She didn’t like them too much for herself.”
"At that age, she's one of them. You might want to sleep with one eye open." She tilts her head and studies his hair like she might a work of art. "Very nice. How did you try to sell them to her? Tell her they're pretty?"
"Exactly. And she turned around and said that if they were so pretty, then I should wear them instead of her. In public. She's a terrible girl." He grins, shaking his head ruefully. "Then again, it was stupid of me to attempt to sell them to her."
"You'd be surprised how often reverse psychology really does work--until they figure out what you're doing. I think you look quite fluttery, er, I mean dashing. Yes, that was the word I was searching for." Clearly she meant the first word. "You're a good sport. Maybe see if you can find dragonflies--something that's not quite so girly?"
"Those who were about to die, lived. Dammit! Did I remember Robbie?"
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"Sorry. Come again?" she pulls out the earplugs and pockets them. "I didn't hear you. Only way to maintain sanity inside there at Christmas time."
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She grins. "Or insanity, possibly masochism. Are those butterfly clips?"
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