arachnophobia || feitan portor

make-overing a murderer - 11

"Someone's angry." Shalnark's chipper tone sounded in the atmosphere as you turned and spotted the blonde.

"We're not friends either." You pull your hand away from the cracked concrete that you'd indented even further.

"I never said we were." Shalnark retorted playfully. You turned and looked at him, unamused by whatever gig he was playing.

"We've got to get you changed! We're all dressing up so let's go!" Shalnark darted off toward you, pulling you along at the waist as you stumbled along, finally turning around right and running on your own.

"Hey! Give me a warning next time!" You groan as you run into town, following Shalnark.

"Oh, hush. Look!" Shalnark took a sharp left and pulled you into a shop. When you finally caught wind and looked around, Shalnark was nowhere to be found.

"What the-"

"'Ello! Looking for somethin' specific, love?" A young man appeared in front of you, wearing a stylish outfit with fawn-colored hair. He looked good.

"I uh, need a dress for an event." You slouch, unimpressed by the thought of having to wear a dress. You guessed you had to meet them at the auction tonight, you hoped tonight would go by quick so you could get this all done and over with.

"Oh! I have just the perfect thing for you!"

Guiding, more like pushing, you into the dressing room with a bag, he'd taken your measurements and picked a dress for you. You didn't get to fully see it until you'd put it on.

A strapless, floor-length, black shimmery dress that sparkled in the lighting of the changing room dawned your features. A thigh-high slit on the right leg gave you that extra something to make the dress seem more chic and sexy.

In the back, it was laced up like a corset, showing just a tad more skin.

"It's gorgeous." You whisper, looking in the mirror.

"I knew you would love it! It's yours!" The man cheered, handing you a bag with your other clothes. You were just going to have to hold onto it apparently. Or you'd just get new clothes later. Who cares.

"Thank you. Here-"

"It's already been paid, dear." The man winked. You smiled and nodded.

"Thank you again." You thanked the man once more before looking in the mirror. Your hair was still a bit of a mess, but nothing you couldn't fix.

Stopping into a small convenience store and feeling out of place, you purchased some makeup and a hairbrush. Using the bathroom mirror, you applied something light, and brushed your hair out, settling for a sleek and almost 'I don't need to do my hair because I look that damn good' look.

Adding a little hairpin to make it seem like you tried with your hair, you looked fucking amazing. You felt amazing. If you weren't working with the Phantom Troupe right now, you'd find yourself going to some expensive party, drinking that expensive alcohol that tastes like vomit and going home, and waking up to a headache from hell.

Glancing at the clock, you didn't even bother trying to find a place to store the makeup or hairbrush. Leaving it in the bathroom, you headed out and made your way to the auction.

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You could feel people staring at you. It was a little uncomfortable.

"Who is she?"

"Is she famous?"

"She's hot!"