IN THE HOURS BETWEEN • TC

21. Mash

Una needs to have left at 6:30. The time is now 6:45 and her hair is only dry on one side, she's dropped one of her earrings, and she still hasn't picked out an outfit.

The hairdryer is on full blast and it burns her scalp as she furiously tries to straighten each section. Her hair is naturally straight but it'll dry weirdly if she doesn't do this, and today is not the day for looking weird.

(Because when she'd said do you fancy meeting up, she'd meant for a coffee or something. Not a full-on let's go and get dinner somewhere nice. And she is by no means complaining, only she's not sure she actually has something suitable to wear and a coffee date would have required much less effort.)

Una moves onto the next section of her hair as the door opens. Timothée stands there for a moment, presumably taking in the pig-sty that is her room; Una hopes she hasn't left anything compromising on the floor.

Timmy says something but the noise is too loud. She switches off the hairdryer.

"What?"

"I ask if you want to go on a walk," he says, his gaze flitting about the room surreptitiously. Una looks at him.

"Kind of in the middle of something," she replies coolly, and he steps closer into the room. Una could strangle him.

"Oh. What are you doing?" he asks pleasantly enough, and she takes a deep breath.

"I'm getting ready to go out. But I've lost one of my earrings and I don't have anything to wear and my hair's still dripping wet," she gestures to the towel around her shoulders. "So, you know. No. I don't want to go on a walk."

Timmy nods for a moment, as if contemplating this. Una switches the hairdryer back on and it is only then that he speaks again. She switches it off and stares at him. "What."

"I said I will help you find some clothings," he offers, picking his way through the clothes mussed up on the floor.

"Oh," Una says quietly. She doubts he'll manage to find anything. What if he picks out something horrendous and she has to say no? "I mean..."

But Timothée is already pulling back the doors of her wardrobe and standing back to survey the contents. She stares at him for a moment and then goes back to the hairdryer. Watches out of the corner of her eye as he zips hangers along the rail, occasionally pulling items out and putting them back, feeling the fabric between his fingers.

After a while, Una switches off the hair dryer and brushes through her hair, hoping it's as dry at the back as it is at the front. It looks nice. Sleek. She checks her phone. (Una's already said she's running late and that she's really sorry. No reply as of yet.)

"I am going to go to get something. You wait," Timmy instructs her, pointing out a finger and backing out of the room.

Una looks at what he has picked out and her eyebrows raise of their own accord. It's all her own clothing, clothing she's spent hours agonising over, but she never would've put those two items together. It's odd.

(It's good, more importantly. It looks nice.)

Timothée comes back with a pair of Una's trainers. "This," he says, undoing the lacets. "They will look nice with the..." he trails off. Points at the outfit he has laid out on Una's bed.

"Outfit?" she asks.

"Mm."

"I think it's quite a formal place, though, Timmy," she says apologetically.

"Oh," he winces. "Do you have high-heels?"

She goes to her wardrobe and rummages around in the bottom. Produces two pairs, which he looks at briefly. Points to the block heels with the gazillion straps.