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This is probably a terrible idea.
It's just that ever since Sweeney, of all people, put the idea into her head, she's had a hard time getting rid of it. Maybe it's because she saw a few women in suits up at Kagura over New Year's -- a reminder that such things are done, if not in large numbers. Or maybe it's because slightly looser formal wear seems, incongruously, like an easier stepping stone to manage than the unsettling normalcy of tight denim. Or maybe it's simply because there's no one to say she shouldn't, which is near enough to should that she can't help but consider it.
Consider it enough to want to try it. Maybe. Just to... to see what it would be like.
But she needs help, is the thing, and no idea who to ask. Thomas is entirely out of the question; she doesn't even want him to know she's thinking about this until she has her own thoughts in order. She considers Sweeney for a few seconds longer than she probably should, if only because he's the one who started this, but she can't imagine he'd be very, er... patient. And she needs someone who will be patient, and supportive, and kind enough not to tell her outright that she's being completely ridiculous, and reasonable enough to convince her she's not walking a bloody cliff's edge.
Which is how she ends up texting Nina to see if she's available for an outing, and shortly thereafter finding herself fidgeting on her doorstep like a first-time petty criminal. God, this is mortifying. She's already blushing, though hopefully that could be mistaken as a result of the chill, or the walk.
She takes a deep, steadying breath, then knocks.
It's just that ever since Sweeney, of all people, put the idea into her head, she's had a hard time getting rid of it. Maybe it's because she saw a few women in suits up at Kagura over New Year's -- a reminder that such things are done, if not in large numbers. Or maybe it's because slightly looser formal wear seems, incongruously, like an easier stepping stone to manage than the unsettling normalcy of tight denim. Or maybe it's simply because there's no one to say she shouldn't, which is near enough to should that she can't help but consider it.
Consider it enough to want to try it. Maybe. Just to... to see what it would be like.
But she needs help, is the thing, and no idea who to ask. Thomas is entirely out of the question; she doesn't even want him to know she's thinking about this until she has her own thoughts in order. She considers Sweeney for a few seconds longer than she probably should, if only because he's the one who started this, but she can't imagine he'd be very, er... patient. And she needs someone who will be patient, and supportive, and kind enough not to tell her outright that she's being completely ridiculous, and reasonable enough to convince her she's not walking a bloody cliff's edge.
Which is how she ends up texting Nina to see if she's available for an outing, and shortly thereafter finding herself fidgeting on her doorstep like a first-time petty criminal. God, this is mortifying. She's already blushing, though hopefully that could be mistaken as a result of the chill, or the walk.
She takes a deep, steadying breath, then knocks.
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Date: 2019-01-23 04:05 am (UTC)From:Nina smiles and laces her arm with Greta's after they hang the suit and shirt on a rack just outside the dressing room. "Am I allowed to come to all your fittings? I promise I'll let Krem do his job, I just want to watch."
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Date: 2019-01-25 03:54 am (UTC)From:"Of course," Greta says, giving Nina's arm a squeeze. "I'll need the support. You can keep reminding me that I look dashing." She won't be forgetting that word choice anytime soon, nor the giddy little thrill it gives her.