(no subject)
It was often a battle! Getting Carly into-- acceptable clothing. And by 'often' she meant 'always', but. She liked to remain mildly optimistic.
She just didn't like being dressy. Or whatever. Jeans and a t-shirt! That was quality outfit right there! It had been a classic for years and years for a reason. Sometimes, if she wanted to really dress it up, she'd add a scarf or something. There. It worked! It was regal enough that she wasn't wearing sweatpants out in public like a scrub, but simple enough that... she didn't mind so much when she remembered that she was a scrub and she got mud or food or whatever on her clothes, that she never knew how, exactly, spaghetti sauce got on her shirt, since she didn't eat anything pasta-related recently? But, hey, it was there.
Why had she told Jerri that Eryn was having a big art opening.
No, why did she mention it was supposed to be fancy and she was thinking jeans would work.
"DIDDY MAO!" was being shouted as Jerri shoved her through the bathroom door. Carly had her hands on either side of the door frame and very snippily stared down a dress hanging off the shower rod, looking rather intimidating.
"Racist! I hate you!" Carly bellowed. Jerri was, like, a foot shorter than her; how was this even a battle? Oh, right, because Carly was a twig. She planted a foot against the doorframe too.
"You will wear the pretty dress!"
"Whyyyyy?"
"Because-- it's pretty. And your friend would want you to be pretty!"
"Eryn doesn't care if I look pretty!"
"Well. I do!"
Carly let go, and the two fell over with a rather loud, collective oomph sound, and Jerri sprang up - damn kids! - as Carly stayed on the floor. Dead. "But I picked the dress for youuuuuu."
"I think you forgot who you were shopping for." Damn. Corpses didn't talk. Carly was a faily corpse.
"I know who I was! I know you, lady! I know what looks goo~ood."
"Don't start talking like my mother, please," Carly whined, sitting up and clambering back to her feet.
"You dress pretty! You never marry handsome man if you don't wear pretty dress!"
Stare. Stare.
"Too far? Too stereotypical Asian?"
"No, actually, that was just a really creepily good impersonation."
"WAUGH." Jerri nudged Carly again. "Come on, come on, come on, come on--"
"Okay! I'll put it on!"
"Yay!"
"I'm not wearing heels!"
Carly got Jerri out the door and closed it in her face on the 'whaaaaaat?', stripped in record time, just about, and stood in the doorway, awkwardly pulling at the hem. She'd even managed to mouse a pair of tights with it, matching black ones underneath - morbid! But classy! And it covered up her two leg sleeves. Tattoos littered her arms, showed up every which way and space. The angel wings on her back that people rarely saw were showing through the keyhole.
"Gross."
"But you look so pretty~y!"
"But gross."
"Nuuuuuu."
Jerri was wiggling about, clapped a pair of simple ballet flats together as if applauding. With shoes! "Eryn won't know what hit 'er!"