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Demon Marcus, Sunday Late Afternoon

Sparkle really, really couldn't afford to keep taking time off work. Hell, he still wasn't sure if he had a job at Dite's anymore, he was going to have to suck it up and go talk to the woman who owned the place these days about that yet, but at least here, at Demon Marcus, he had a key and he could come in and collapse behind the counter pretty much any time he wanted.

And, after Lewis had left to catch his plane home, he very much wanted.

Not just for the stash of alcohol that he had hiding behind the counter, don't look at him like that.

Okay. Mostly for the stash of alcohol behind the counter. But it was late, he couldn't imagine getting too much business.

If people happened to stop by and ask what he was drinking, though, he might share. Maybe.

[OOC: Open, and flying without OCD today!]

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Elsa... really was out of her element here, wasn't she? But Roxie had wanted to do something, and she wasn't going to say no to the one friend of Barry's that not only didn't loathe her on principle, but who seemed to get it.

So, she was here at Roxie's suggestion, looking around at the modern clothing with the same bemused expression she'd been wearing that one time she had gone bathing suit shopping with Eleanor and Celia.

"That isn't a shirt. That's a lace doily."

She already had opinions, Roxie. Have fun with that.

"It would be adorable on you," Roxie insisted. She didn't do 'girly' very often, but come on. Clothes shopping. She held the lace doily top in front of Elsa. "A little daring, sure, but you could definitely show some skin."

She dropped the top, abruptly, to give Elsa a critical eye. "Unless you've got some kind of skin condition?" she asked. "Barry could probably help with that. Let me know if there's something I should avoid, here."

She wasn't going to ask what the girl's deal was, but she had bracelets and felt like she could Be Herself here. There might be a scar she was self-conscious about to go with it.

"Oh, it's not-- it's nothing like that," Elsa replied, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious as she stared at the top. "I just mean, I would rather... keep covered. As much as possible. Anyway."

Eloquent, Elsa. Super eloquent.

"Isn't it a little late in the year for lace doilies, besides?"

"You're indoors most of the time, anyway," Roxie shrugged. "I don't mind the cold if I look good."

She was pulling out more tops as she considered. "So, does keeping covered mean you don't want skin showing at all?" she asked. "Sheer fabric's a nice way to cover up without having to button up."

The shirt (http://www.modcloth.com/shop/blouses/meet-and-mingle-top) she was holding out now was more open latticework than sheer, but still, the point held.

"Or we go full coverage," she said, offering another shirt that, miraculously, had long sleeves (http://www.modcloth.com/shop/blouses/tempting-treats-top) and a high neckline to boot. "You tell me."

Oh... Elsa liked that long sleeved one, giving it a thoughtful looking-over.

"I'm not used to showing a lot of skin," Elsa clarified, "but I might be persuaded to, just so long as it's not right there for people to just... touch."

Touch. That was the thing. It was so, so very the thing.

"I like this one with the sleeves," she added. "The floral patterns are lovely. We tend to wear a lot of florals, back home."

Right, so Roxie carefully stashed the black lacework one and hung on to the pretty patterned blue one.

"Is accidental bumping bad?" she asked, digging through the racks again. If Elsa was going to drop hints, that would make her job much easier. And maybe Elsa would be more relieved if she didn't pry, at all, about the meaning of those hints. Not her business. "Because we can keep sleeves, in that case."

She was pulling a few more tops out for Elsa to consider: a turtleneck sweater (http://www.modcloth.com/shop/pullovers-sweaters/vowel-about-it-sweater), a peasant top (http://www.modcloth.com/shop/basic-tops/would-you-brook-at-that-top) that reminded her of the fabric on Elsa's dress, a long drapey one (http://www.modcloth.com/shop/basic-tops/draped-in-delight-long-sleeved-top-in-dusk) in navy.

"You have to try some of these on," she decided. "Once we get you a pair of jeans."

Edited 2014-09-28 23:54 (UTC)

"Accidental bumping is... not as bad as it used to be," Elsa said, carefully. "But it still worries me. I have to nerve myself up to touching people. It's... a long story."

She looked at the shirts that Roxie was picking out for her, smiling faintly at each one. They were far more her speed than the lacy thing she'd been looking at before.

And then her mouth fell open a little.

"Wait, what? Jeans?"

SHE DID NOT KNOW HOW TO PANTS. Granted, she needed a pair, but how in the world...?

"It's fine," Roxie said easily. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Anyway, you should have seen me before Barry helped out. I didn't have a skin condition, I had a hair condition."

Roxie was blithely picking out jeans from the rack, undeterred by Elsa's resistance. "You don't happen to know your waist size, do you? It's gotta be small."

"My waist? It's, um..." Elsa looked down at herself. "No?"

She'd never had to worry about clothing herself, before. That's what Gerda was for!

"And I don't really... mind talking about it, really? I mean, it's just difficult to get to that point, sometimes." She glanced over at the boy behind the counter, who was looking bored with everything in the world, or perhaps like he was well on his way to three sheets to the wind. "Not that... anyone's really paying attention who'll worry about it too much, granted."

"I certainly won't," Roxie said, pulling out a pair of jeans and holding them up in front of Elsa. It was hard to judge with just your eyes, putting a flat two-dimensional pair of pants over someone's three-dimensional body. "I don't mind if you want to guard your privacy. But if you want to swap outsider stories, I'm down. Mine might throw you for a bit of a loop."

Fair warning, Elsa.

"I'm just gonna have to get you a few different sizes to try," she said, apologetically. "Women's sizes are the worst. At least with men's, you know what they're measuring."

After Barry's performance at the talent show last night, Elsa had a pretty good idea of what men were measuring, yes. She even had the decency to blush a little when she thought of it.

"A few sizes are fine. And I'm sure we've both got some interesting stories to swap," she noted. "We wouldn't be hiding them if they were boring, would we?"

Roxie had to laugh, at that. "We should make up some crazy ones," she decided. "Like how I'm wanted by the secret Haitian mafia for stealing all of their puffy stickers. Maybe work the real ones in, and see if the other person can fucking guess which one's which."

Elsa laughed a little at that, shaking her head faintly. Where would she even start?

"I like the puffy stickers part," she offered. "I'd probably steal them, too. Either those, or the scented ones, that you have to scratch. I've only recently discovered those."

By royal decree, scratch-and-sniff stickers would be the next big thing in Arendelle.

"I'd come up with something especially clever, but I'm afraid most of my references would be horribly dated. I did come here from nearly two hundred years ago, after all."

She wasn't even making that up! Though she could have been. It was a mystery, wasn't it?

"You must be from the past, if you're new to scratch-n-sniff," Roxie laughed. "Hell, for all you know, I'm from the future. A super-advanced future where everyone's got crazy hair and telepathy."

Whatever lie she told would have to incorporate hair, somehow. Just like Elsa's would need to factor in not being touched.

"Which is why I stole puffy stickers from the Haitian mafia."

Obviously.

"Right," Elsa laughed, shaking her head. "It all makes perfect sense!"

Or none at all, but she was hardly going to nitpick at this point.

"Do the puffy stickers enhance the telepathy, by any chance?"

"No, no," Roxie laughed. "The puffy stickers are there to improve the accuracy of my laser eyes."

She was now shoving a pile of clothes at Elsa. "Dressing room. Now."

"Dressing room, now," Elsa echoed with a bit of a... it wasn't quite a nervous giggle. She was a princess. But it was close. "If I never come out again, I probably couldn't find my way into the jeans."

And that would be the real tragedy.

She took a deep breath, and then ducked into the dressing room.

"Wish me luck!"

Edited 2014-09-30 11:53 (UTC)

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Demon Marcus, Sunday Late Afternoon

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