The Social Welfare Agency, Rome, Italy [Tuesday evening]
Triela had known as soon as she'd heard all the things Alessandro had wanted her to do that this moment was coming. There was no avoiding it. The other girls at the Agency were going to want to see her "dressed up". Petrushka already had, of course, she'd actually been quite helpful with the whole makeup thing, actually. But the others... well.
"Oh, wow, Triela!" Henrietta gushed that evening when she got back to her room. "You look so beautiful and elegant!" Rico threw in a grin and an enthusiastic head-nod of agreement.
Which wasn't actually helpful since Henrietta could always be relied on to gush effusively over her "big sister", and Rico could be relied upon to smile and nod no matter what anyone said (Triela still thought Jean used too much Conditioning on her).
So she turned to her cynical, but at least honestly so, roommate.
Claes adjusted her glasses (an affected gesture since she had perfect vision and the frames just held flat pieces of glass) and looked Triela up and down. "Twirl," she demanded, lifting one finger to spin it in a little circle. Triela sighed and complied, turning carefully to avoid unbalancing herself on her still-unfamiliar heels.
Finishing her spin she looked up at her roommate where Claes lay on her stomach on the top bunk. After a slow, thoughtful tap against her chin, Claes nodded in what served as approval for the dour girl.
"It works," she decidded. "You look your age. Most people will probably assume you're eighteen, maybe nineteen. And you could pass for twenty-two, maybe, if you had to."
Which was an evaluation Triela could live with. And accept. Claes didn't believe in sugar-coating things. Which was proven a moment later.
"You'll have to be careful with those inserts, though. Though I suppose your general standoffishness might help with that. No strapless dresses, for instance."
Triela scowled. Because she was hoping to avoid dresses altogether.
That... didn't seem likely.
"Oh, wow, Triela!" Henrietta gushed that evening when she got back to her room. "You look so beautiful and elegant!" Rico threw in a grin and an enthusiastic head-nod of agreement.
Which wasn't actually helpful since Henrietta could always be relied on to gush effusively over her "big sister", and Rico could be relied upon to smile and nod no matter what anyone said (Triela still thought Jean used too much Conditioning on her).
So she turned to her cynical, but at least honestly so, roommate.
Claes adjusted her glasses (an affected gesture since she had perfect vision and the frames just held flat pieces of glass) and looked Triela up and down. "Twirl," she demanded, lifting one finger to spin it in a little circle. Triela sighed and complied, turning carefully to avoid unbalancing herself on her still-unfamiliar heels.
Finishing her spin she looked up at her roommate where Claes lay on her stomach on the top bunk. After a slow, thoughtful tap against her chin, Claes nodded in what served as approval for the dour girl.
"It works," she decidded. "You look your age. Most people will probably assume you're eighteen, maybe nineteen. And you could pass for twenty-two, maybe, if you had to."
Which was an evaluation Triela could live with. And accept. Claes didn't believe in sugar-coating things. Which was proven a moment later.
"You'll have to be careful with those inserts, though. Though I suppose your general standoffishness might help with that. No strapless dresses, for instance."
Triela scowled. Because she was hoping to avoid dresses altogether.
That... didn't seem likely.