smash_logs | (no subject)

Who: Warren (Seth) the DickCat, Voile the Gardevoir
When: 10/19 (I think) - 20:00
Where: BE-4
What: ~~It's a date!~~ It's something akin to a date. Kind of. Sort of.
Warnings: Seth gets his own warning.

"Wear something cute."

What curious words. Voile really didn't know what to make of them. She couldn't remember anyone else ever saying anything like that to her. Most people didn't care what she was wearing, and if they did, she'd either met (or exceeded) expectations, or they felt it wasn't worth their time to bring it up. And yet Warren had specifically said precisely that to her. To wear something cute.

What does he think of as cute? She didn't have an answer to that, and still couldn't figure out how to get one as she eyed her closet with interest. In her opinion, many of the human garments she had were... 'cute'. And they were only cute for magazines had said as much and certainly nothing printed could be a lie. ...Right?

She finally settled on something relatively simple. Pastels of blues and purples. Ruffles. Sleeveless for once. And perhaps a little shorter than she was used to. It looked almost more like a summer dress, but the season hadn't grown too cold yet. With that thought in mind, Voile felt like it was acceptable.

At the door to the room he'd directed her, Voile paused. A smaller pot of gracidea flowers in one hand, her other rose to knock on his door.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She said nothing for many moments, mostly because his offer was so generous that she was overwhelmed by it. Drawing up her left hand, she brushed her fingertips over her cheek with some thought. Seth's host club would be a good form of advertisement. And she was thrilled to give him a little something in return as well.

"I... do tailoring as well," she admitted quietly. "I'm not perfect, but I know how to make a good outfit and a good number of my dresses were sewn by my own hand. I... believe we could be of some mutual benefit to one another Seth."

She sat a little straighter, feeling her professionalism would be best instead of how her heart kept doing some pitter patter here and there. "I'm still developing the contest hall, but I can help design costumes for the host club and use them to promote your occasional events in return for your advertising. Is... this something you would genuinely be interested in?"

"You are a woman of many talents." He purred. He liked the way she thought, business-wise. It would be mutually profitable; he had resources and she had skill and forethought to exemplify said resources.

"Of course I would. Let's make it happen--together, Voile."

It wasn't what he said that caught her attention. It was how he said it. It was like an immense strip of cold traveled up her back and rather than fading away, it eventually numbed her. Her fingertips moved, as if to test if they could still even move and she gave to him a smile.

"This sounds perfect," in a completely non-perfect way, considering perfection didn't exist. "I look forward to it. Should we shake on it, do you think? Or are you so trusting that you'll take me at my word?"

"Let's shake on it. Make it official." He said, and held his hand out over the dinner to commensurate.

"To us."

Them. 'Us,' he said. What a concept. She never imagined at any point in time that the man she helped once would be sitting with her at a nice dinner, in a fancy restaurant, and dressed to the nines. She reached over to take his hand and gave it a good, firm shake.

"To us, Seth."

And she looked more than a little pleased with the very concept.

And then they made out, the end.