fandomhigh | Fashion! Releasing Your Inner Superhero, etc. [Thursday, May 21, 1st period]

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Fashion! Releasing Your Inner Superhero, etc. [Thursday, May 21, 1st period]

"Today we will begin the most important part of your costumes!" Edna announced as she wheeled in a hanging rack full of spandex body suits. Oh, you lucky people, you. (Don't ask how that last one snuck in there. It had been a Very Terrible Costume Concept.) "Measurements!"

She ignored any horrified looks or attempts to hide under tables. "Ms. Davis, my assistant," she nodded at Brooke, "and I will be measuring you so that the costumes you create for yourselves will fit! While you are waiting, come up with two preliminary concepts for your ensemble--include your logo from last week on one of them--and then ask a fellow student to critique!"

She made shooing motions. "Go! Scatter! Create!" She pointed at one student at random. "Except you. You get to wear Spandex first, darling."

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Arthur was not going to create anything. He was going to stare at the spandex in morbid fascination. And, quite possibly, ~~bitch~~ complain all over it.

"It's the traditional clothing of our people," Jenny told him. "Posthumans, I mean, not Brits. So actually my people."

She was probably confusing him.

"...Post. Humans."

Arthur looked up at her as if he expected her to say also, I'm a faerie while she was at it.

"As in 'what comes after humans,' yes. It's not accurate, but," she shrugged. "I didn't name us. Or decide we were going to wear spandex In fact, I voted a strong anti-spandex ticket."

"That may be a show of sense," Arthur granted her, deciding to do the sane thing and categorize that with everything else insane he'd been hearing around here. "Is it even possible to breathe in that?"

"It's stretchy," Jenny told him. "So, yes. Rips easy, though. Or maybe that's just Apollo."

"And it is not, in fact, armored," Arthur took from that. Slowly, slowly took from that.

"You are correct, sir," Jenny told him with an ironic gesture of her cigarette.

Arthur processed that, as well.

He nodded slowly.

And then he gave Jenny a significant look. "I have had a very, very long week."

Jenny could be kind sometimes: "I've got a flask in my pocket."

Jenny Sparks: redefining juvenile delinquency.

Edited 2009-05-21 05:33 (UTC)

"That may be a start, thank you," Arthur said, gracefully. "Do you have some time this week...?"

Arthur Pendragon: redefining shameless and brainbroken?

"I have to work Friday before Romeo fires my worthless arse, but other than that I'm free." She offered him the flask when she thought Edna wasn't looking.

((Also I'm moving over the weekend so will probably not be around.))

He took it. And took an immediate swig, also when he thought Edna was... preoccupied being scary at someone else. "Tonight?"

Even for his standards, this was pretty bad, but Jenny and chivalry were an odd match to begin with.

[[ weee can go as handwavey/not-at-all-y/differently timed as you want. boy just needs ~~ta-tas~~ brainglue ]]

Re: Create!

ashockingbitch - 2009-05-21 05:51 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Create!

bitchprince - 2009-05-21 05:54 (UTC) - Expand

Francine considered the feasibility of just burying her face in a pile of stretchy fabric for an hour so she could pretend to not notice Arthur was there, but in a surprisingly non-chickenshit move for her, she didn't. Instead she glanced at him, sighed, and walked over, despite the stupid flush that she'd rather be burying in spandex.

Because, damn it, there had to be something that was easy to fix in this whole mess, didn't there? For certain terrifying values of 'easy.'

"Arthur?"

Arthur looked up. There may have been an overly idle quality to his returning, "Francine."

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders -- which probably didn't help with the professional image she was trying to convince herself she projected -- then stuck out her hand. In business merger position, not lead me to the dancefloor.

"Never happened?" It was an offer, though it might have sounded like a question.

That explained the last few scraps of Katina's mood all right. Arthur would like to return to being dense enough not to know any of this. "You and I were under a spell," he said, which wasn't quite never happened; the implications somewhat the same, but just off by half an inch.

She was reeeeeeeally hoping for a withering stare and I have no idea what you're talking about, frankly, but it could be worse. She could work with that and still possibly not turn purple. "Yeah, exactly. It wasn't real."

"No," Arthur said, slowly (in that way that was meant to be for her benefit, and not any confusion on his own part), "What we did certainly wasn't real."

If he was going to build anyone a castle, it'd be himself.

"So can we skip being weird about it?" she asked before her courage ran out and the ums and ahs started bubbling forth.

"I didn't know that 'being weird' was needed to begin with," said Arthur, because Francine was Francine and it'd be a waste of his time to come up with a girl-friendly method for throwing boots at people.

It wouldn't do a damn bit of good, and Katchoo would only kill him a fraction of a second quicker in exchange for the rum yesterday.

"I--" She didn't know what to do with that, is what. "You don't need weird. It just is."

"No, it isn't," Arthur retorted.

Listen, he'd been summarily rejected - not that he cared - without even winding up in any situation where he may have asked - not that he would - last weekend. If she was asking, she was getting an answer, and Arthur would use all his innate ability to mold heaven, hell and earth into the shape he expected it to be to support it.

Edited 2009-05-21 06:39 (UTC)

"Yes, it--" Wait, why was she arguing? "Ergh. I'm not saying this right." And also making things weird. For herself, at least.

"You're saying it fine," Arthur informed her, "It just isn't."

So God help him, he really would throw a shoe. "And while your constant flailing is hilarious, I suggest you speak to Katina again."

Involving himself in arguments between girls. That would end well.