[closed thread; in progress]
WHO: Rikku (
cunningness) and Zack (
spikeysoldier).
WHAT: She won him in the auction, so it’s date time.
WHERE: Around~
WHEN: Day 77, evening.
If she could have picked any time for a bomb to explode in her bathroom, an hour before her date would definitely have not been it. So maybe she’d forgotten about a miniature grenade in her pajama pocket, and when she’d gone to move her p.j. pants from the hanger behind the door the pin had fallen out. It wasn’t her fault she’d been just a little bit paranoid lately. Some weird things had been happening lately, what with people disappearing left and right, and she wasn’t willing to take any chances. But her washroom was in shambles, and she didn’t have time to fix it all up before she left.
Luckily, Rikku had always been a resourceful sort of girl, so the knowledge that she wouldn't be able to use the bathroom to get ready didn't faze her too much. She improvised, dumping all her make-up onto her bed and turning to the relatively small mirror that hung on the wall. Even though she hadn't put on eyeliner or eye shadow in Shiva knew how long, dolling herself up came as naturally as if she did it every day. And by the time she was done, she thought she looked pretty damn good.
Which was good, since she intended to make Zack realize that dating was good, and that he couldn’t pin his hopes on one girl. She planned to do the same to Sam, when they met up. Sure, it likely wouldn't work, but she'd feel better because she’d at least tried, and that was the point.
And so with a mild feeling of accomplishment, she slipped into her mid-thigh-length dress and smiled as she grabbed the matching yellow clutch purse. It was good to take the bows off her arms and unbraid her hair to pile atop her head in an intricate style that would have taken hours for anyone else to create but had been accomplished in just under fifteen minutes by her lithe fingers. One last glance in the mirror and she gave an approving nod; she looked ready to hit a nice restaurant or go dancing. Not too dressy and not too casual-just perfect. And since she had no idea what Zack would be wearing, it’d work even if he was in jeans and a tank top, though she sorely hoped he wouldn’t be.
Smoothing the dress down with one hand, she sauntered towards the door, shooting a brilliant smile at her Worker of the Week. He was a year or two younger than her, and she could practically feel his eyes locked on her back as she walked out the garage door. There was no doubt it was odd, seeing a young woman dressed the way she was coming out of a kynyka that was undoubtedly littered with oil. It was a miracle that she hadn’t smudged her dress with grease.
But she was already heading down the street, canary heels clicking lightly on the pavement. She glanced in a store window and caught sight of a clock; she had five minutes to make it to the meeting spot, but she was in no hurry at all. Besides, she had always had a knack for running in heels, if the need arose. But then the bench she’d picked for their rendezvous was there, and she cocked an eyebrow, spinning on one foot, dress fanning out into a bell, as she looked for a head of messy, dark hair.
cunningness) and Zack (
spikeysoldier).
WHAT: She won him in the auction, so it’s date time.
WHERE: Around~
WHEN: Day 77, evening.
If she could have picked any time for a bomb to explode in her bathroom, an hour before her date would definitely have not been it. So maybe she’d forgotten about a miniature grenade in her pajama pocket, and when she’d gone to move her p.j. pants from the hanger behind the door the pin had fallen out. It wasn’t her fault she’d been just a little bit paranoid lately. Some weird things had been happening lately, what with people disappearing left and right, and she wasn’t willing to take any chances. But her washroom was in shambles, and she didn’t have time to fix it all up before she left.
Luckily, Rikku had always been a resourceful sort of girl, so the knowledge that she wouldn't be able to use the bathroom to get ready didn't faze her too much. She improvised, dumping all her make-up onto her bed and turning to the relatively small mirror that hung on the wall. Even though she hadn't put on eyeliner or eye shadow in Shiva knew how long, dolling herself up came as naturally as if she did it every day. And by the time she was done, she thought she looked pretty damn good.
Which was good, since she intended to make Zack realize that dating was good, and that he couldn’t pin his hopes on one girl. She planned to do the same to Sam, when they met up. Sure, it likely wouldn't work, but she'd feel better because she’d at least tried, and that was the point.
And so with a mild feeling of accomplishment, she slipped into her mid-thigh-length dress and smiled as she grabbed the matching yellow clutch purse. It was good to take the bows off her arms and unbraid her hair to pile atop her head in an intricate style that would have taken hours for anyone else to create but had been accomplished in just under fifteen minutes by her lithe fingers. One last glance in the mirror and she gave an approving nod; she looked ready to hit a nice restaurant or go dancing. Not too dressy and not too casual-just perfect. And since she had no idea what Zack would be wearing, it’d work even if he was in jeans and a tank top, though she sorely hoped he wouldn’t be.
Smoothing the dress down with one hand, she sauntered towards the door, shooting a brilliant smile at her Worker of the Week. He was a year or two younger than her, and she could practically feel his eyes locked on her back as she walked out the garage door. There was no doubt it was odd, seeing a young woman dressed the way she was coming out of a kynyka that was undoubtedly littered with oil. It was a miracle that she hadn’t smudged her dress with grease.
But she was already heading down the street, canary heels clicking lightly on the pavement. She glanced in a store window and caught sight of a clock; she had five minutes to make it to the meeting spot, but she was in no hurry at all. Besides, she had always had a knack for running in heels, if the need arose. But then the bench she’d picked for their rendezvous was there, and she cocked an eyebrow, spinning on one foot, dress fanning out into a bell, as she looked for a head of messy, dark hair.