Dite's Decadent Delights | Wednesday

[begmetwice]

As tempting as it was for Irene to actually have maps out in front of her like some sort of delightful old-timey cartographer, she'd settled for simply writing lists as she sat at her computer today. Lists, of course, of boutiques she knew in Baltimore -- there was going to be an art to taking Amaya shopping without incident, she felt, and a light touch needed.

So her work today, with Clementine nearby cheerfully gnawing on an ice-pack chew toy thing, was to put her destinations in order from least intimidating to most. (And even thus far, the list had gone through several revisions, since Irene's standards -- both as far as fashion and as far as intimidation -- were not most people's.)

[open!]

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[special_rabbit]

Was that a...was that a text? From Amaya? To Irene, right around the time of the Wednesday shenanigans were going into full swing?

Yes, yes it was. An image, no less, of a poorly taken selfie of Amaya in this week's shirt, accompanied by the following message:

No need for that trip after all, Skywalker's got me covered for wardrobe now

Was this....some sort of an effort on Amaya's part to be cute? Or was it simply a boldly misguided attempt to seize an opportunity for one last-ditch effort to get out of the shopping trip, somehow?

Not even Amaya knew, which you'd think she at least have an idea, considering how much she'd put into debating whether or not she should once the idea popped into her brain.

Maybe if she threatened to wear it to shopping...

[begmetwice]

Whether it was intentional or not, Irene found it distractingly cute.

And any threat of wearing that heinous eyesore out with Irene would, of course, simply result in an insistence that it be removed, oh noooooo.

Are those PINEAPPLES?

Somehow the print was even more offensive than the color itself.

[special_rabbit]

The text in response didn't come for a good, long while, because Amaya had spent so much time debating on whether to send the text or not that she'd gone right up to the starting point, and once the thing was started, she was locked into competition mode because the whole reason she was even there that week was because she and Diaz could hardly skip out on one last chance that summer to be obnoxiously competitive with each other.

And now Amaya's poor phone was going to be smeared with pudding.

And watermelons, she finally texted back by way of confirmation. Few flamingos in there, too, I think.

She had trouble conforming that by now because the shirt, too, was covered in pudding. This, she felt, could only help her in the potential use of said shirt as a threat.

[begmetwice]

Irene sort of adored flamingos, to be honest. Just not on her clothing. Or her lawn, should she have had a lawn.

Hideous. The last time Irene had done shenanigans, she'd ended up with a shirt that had at least called attention to some of her better assets. This monstrosity didn't look flattering in the slightest. Colour nearly suits but that fit is a disaster.

Who knew if that was actually true? Irene was just sort of thrilling at the familiarity of flirt-texting.

[special_rabbit]

See, now, and here was where Amaya realized the accidental trap she'd made for herself in deciding to follow up on something that had, in the moment, seemed hilarious (or, at the very least, foolishly hopeful). Because any disparaging thing said about the shirt on her end would only prove how much it should be replaced, and any insistence that it wasn't really all that bad ran the risk of it being emphasized how much help she really needed in this department after all.

There was another option, she supposed, of just not responding at all, which she could simply blame on the pudding were it ever addressed.

There were....regrets. And that last option was looking mighty appealing in that moment, although she supposed it wouldn't hurt anything to at least swing back around to what had given her the crazy notion to text in the first place:

You know I have gotten a few of these over the summer. maybe i don't really need new clothes after all

A pathetic effort, she knew, especially considering who she was dealing with. But she really felt she had to at least try at this point. If she didn't spend the next week trying to weasel her way out of it, it might seem like she'd actually wanted to go and that would...that would just be...unacceptable!

[begmetwice]

Shrouding yourself in ridiculous clown-wear just highlights how pretty you are, you know.

And what a pity that this was text, and Irene would just have to imagine the blushing.

At least let me have them tailored for you.

Consider the bluff called, at least for the moment. Because that would help these disgusting shirts: adjusting the fit.

[special_rabbit]

Irene wasn't missing blushing so much as a very openly disgusted twist of Amaya's face at that first part, complete with wrinkled nose and a sneer at her poor phone which did nothing to deserve this.

(Okay. And maybe a little blushing).

And it did, at least, answer for Amaya at least one question she didn't know she'd had, and that was that, yes, Irene really was just as incorrigible and ridiculous by text as she was in person.

She huffed out a breath to no one in particular, realizing that this half-hearted attempt had not, in fact, succeeded after all, shocking everyone, surely.

That would just be an insult to the tailor, and a waste of an effort, besides. Half of them have been covered in pudding or worse anyway.

[begmetwice]

Honestly, Irene might be even more incorrigible and ridiculous by text -- not to mention determined. Though, one of these days she'd tell Amaya how pretty she was in person and actually put together that there were other, perhaps less face-inducing adjectives.

Good. She needed prompting to be more creative with her flirtations, sometimes.

Sounds like they really ought to just be binned so you can start fresh. Perfect occasion to build up your wardrobe!

C'mon, that was easy.

[special_rabbit]

Look, Amaya had already fully accepted the fact that this had been a major swing and a miss. At this point, it was all softballs.

She sighed.

It would certainly seem so, wouldn't it?

So there was the rabbit, and now this. Amaya didn't know anything about baseball, but it looked as though she had at least one more try in her before striking out. She'd better make it a good one, then.

[begmetwice]

As it was, this was a raincheck of a shopping trip. It was tragic that no one here knew American sport nearly as well as they should for metaphor's sake.

I'd call it fate, really. The ISLAND ITSELF wants you to go shopping with me.

And like so many other things in their relationship -- if one could call it that -- they would just have to follow the island's whims, tragically! It was the island's fault they'd kissed, after all (except how Irene had preempted the mistletoe.) It was the island's fault they'd finally slept together at all (even if maybe the island hadn't had much to do with it beyond that initial first week.) And now it was just the damned island, oh no, forcing everyone to go on this shopping date!

[special_rabbit]

Just apparently not last weekend.

Amaya felt it really had to be pointed out. Although if Irene wanted to invoke the name of THE ISLAND ITSELF in all of this, Amaya was going to start wondering what sort of offerings could be made to it to convince it to maybe not get so personally invested in her....dalliances (the mere existence of the word relationship in this context made her want to take a hard leap from the fence she was constantly sitting on with regards to returning to Daventry once and for all). Maybe she could work her way down to the machinery underneath it and bestow it with some of the good oil she used for the Crumbler...