andhiswife | (Reply)

Nina doesn't answer right away, instead pulling out a handful of bobby pins and taking in some of the surplus fabric, pinning and adjusting until it all lies a little more as if it's been tailored to her. Which makes sense -- it's hard to have an informed opinion of an outfit that looks as if you've stolen it off someone else's laundry line -- but still leaves her nerves a little frayed by the time Nina finally nudges her around to look in the mirror.

"... Oh," Greta says quietly, blinking at her own reflection. It feels a little like when she first saw Sara: someone with a shared face but few other similarities to speak of. Because she, naturally, would never wear anything like this. Except that she is. Her back straightens unconsciously, and she makes an astonished little noise before finally forming a full sentence. "It's... it's not bad." She could be talking about the look of it or the feel of it; either way, she's failing to manifest any of the shame she'd anticipated over this sartorial deviance.

But she can also recognize that there's something off about it -- something besides the imperfect fit, which Nina's bobby pins can only do so much for -- and after a moment of pensive self-study, she murmurs, "I'd have to do something different with my hair..."