Post by Deleted on Aug 24, 2013 3:43:44 GMT
As far as Angel was concerned, Nevada's best quality was being rich. That he was young and good looking was just a bonus. They looked good together, Nevada following along with the shopping bags and credit cards while Angel dragged him from store to store to try on clothes and buy just about anything that fit.
Nevada wasn't complaining.
They were in Angel's favourite boutique now, with Angel holed up in the change room trying on half the store. He pushed open the door slightly – he was shirtless, though he didn't think it mattered if he wasn't actually a girl – eyes finding Nevada.
"Nev!" He stuck an arm out, pouting, a shirt dangling from his fingers. "Black is like a funeral colour, go get this in another colour." He eyed the man critically, narrowed his eyes as he looked over his bright red suit. "Not red."
Another day, another shopping trip. If Nevada’s pockets hadn’t been stuffed until bursting, he might have been more mindful of his spending. Actually, he had tried until he received a certain look from the pretty blonde. One bat of his lashes and Nevada was putty in his hands. It was funny how things had worked themselves out. The blackmailer had become a sugar daddy. He was spending money instead of receiving it. All the money he had been sitting on seemed to be draining from his accounts.
He stood among racks of clothing with transparent hangers shining under the florescent lights. Nevada watched the movement of legs beneath the small space between the stall door and the floor, fixed on the stall that hid Angel from view. Boredom made his eyelids heavy and a yawn rise in his throat. Nevada wasn’t the type to enjoy shopping. He bought what he needed and then went back home. He rarely needed to buy clothes unless a shirt, pair of slacks or shoes wore out.
Angel seemed to need to buy a new wardrobe every other week. He was constantly dragging Nevada and his wallet along on various shopping trips. This time they were with Cassiopeia and her friend. He didn’t have a chance to wonder where the other pair was when he was summoned by Angel. “As you wish,” he mumbled as he retrieved the garment. What was wrong with red? He ambled off to find the rack of matching garments, pondering what color Angel would like.
Despite having the choice of custom made outfits, shopping was still one of her favourite things. The picking; the trying; the compliments. The moment she swipes the plastic through the thin slot – it must be the whole pampering experience that got her hooked.
Princess complex aside, her wardrobe was always in need of a little restocking.
“What has red ever done to you?” Cassiopeia emerged form the adjacent room, brushing a handful of silver strands over her right shoulder.
The backless dress, in a bold shade of crimson, hugged her figure closely and flatteringly. She stood before the dressing mirror and shifted around to get a few different angles, before noticing Nevada’s wondering reflection in her mirror. “Oh. Oooh.” Her expression went from delight to dread in the blink of an eye. She shrugged, eventually, going back to admiring herself, “Well, not everyone can handle it, I suppose.”
It took quite a bit of effort for Cassiopeia to snap back to her real purpose today. “How do you feel about a new suit, Leslie? Something other than black, of course, easier for me to pick you out from the crowd.” She didn’t turn to search for the raven-haired secretary, knowing full well that he would be somewhere close by.
Nevada wasn't complaining.
They were in Angel's favourite boutique now, with Angel holed up in the change room trying on half the store. He pushed open the door slightly – he was shirtless, though he didn't think it mattered if he wasn't actually a girl – eyes finding Nevada.
"Nev!" He stuck an arm out, pouting, a shirt dangling from his fingers. "Black is like a funeral colour, go get this in another colour." He eyed the man critically, narrowed his eyes as he looked over his bright red suit. "Not red."
Another day, another shopping trip. If Nevada’s pockets hadn’t been stuffed until bursting, he might have been more mindful of his spending. Actually, he had tried until he received a certain look from the pretty blonde. One bat of his lashes and Nevada was putty in his hands. It was funny how things had worked themselves out. The blackmailer had become a sugar daddy. He was spending money instead of receiving it. All the money he had been sitting on seemed to be draining from his accounts.
He stood among racks of clothing with transparent hangers shining under the florescent lights. Nevada watched the movement of legs beneath the small space between the stall door and the floor, fixed on the stall that hid Angel from view. Boredom made his eyelids heavy and a yawn rise in his throat. Nevada wasn’t the type to enjoy shopping. He bought what he needed and then went back home. He rarely needed to buy clothes unless a shirt, pair of slacks or shoes wore out.
Angel seemed to need to buy a new wardrobe every other week. He was constantly dragging Nevada and his wallet along on various shopping trips. This time they were with Cassiopeia and her friend. He didn’t have a chance to wonder where the other pair was when he was summoned by Angel. “As you wish,” he mumbled as he retrieved the garment. What was wrong with red? He ambled off to find the rack of matching garments, pondering what color Angel would like.
Despite having the choice of custom made outfits, shopping was still one of her favourite things. The picking; the trying; the compliments. The moment she swipes the plastic through the thin slot – it must be the whole pampering experience that got her hooked.
Princess complex aside, her wardrobe was always in need of a little restocking.
“What has red ever done to you?” Cassiopeia emerged form the adjacent room, brushing a handful of silver strands over her right shoulder.
The backless dress, in a bold shade of crimson, hugged her figure closely and flatteringly. She stood before the dressing mirror and shifted around to get a few different angles, before noticing Nevada’s wondering reflection in her mirror. “Oh. Oooh.” Her expression went from delight to dread in the blink of an eye. She shrugged, eventually, going back to admiring herself, “Well, not everyone can handle it, I suppose.”
It took quite a bit of effort for Cassiopeia to snap back to her real purpose today. “How do you feel about a new suit, Leslie? Something other than black, of course, easier for me to pick you out from the crowd.” She didn’t turn to search for the raven-haired secretary, knowing full well that he would be somewhere close by.
@leslie
