forget your troubles, happy days are here again / you better chase all your troubles away

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So here's what you missed on Glee:

After getting slushied in the face for years and dealing with Karofsky's bullying, Kurt's decided to take a few defense lessons from the Black Widow herself - ( "I... just wanted to say thank you, again, for letting me participate in this course, and how much I'm looking forward to future lessons. You kind of blew

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Although Pierrette was a few months too young for the age limits of the party, Kurt couldn't even dream of leaving her out of the festivities, being a good friend of his as she was. For a while, he'd even considered scrapping the idea of drinks and water balloons at the party altogether, to Santana's great and rather vocal dismay, but in the end, he'd settled for informing all of the adults at the party of her presence there, making it clear that she wasn't to be served any alcohol, that she was someone who needed to be watched to a little more closely. Less concerned about the adherence to island laws, Kurt simply knew that the girl was rather skittish and shy on the whole, and certainly didn't want to do anything to make her time on the island any less enjoyable, or to raise her levels of anxiety. When she finally arrived, Kurt immediately held up a hand to stall his conversation, offered his quick apologies, and breezed his way on over.

"My dear, you look absolutely ravishing tonight," he noted first with a bright smile, reaching

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All too often she felt her cheeks warm when he said such things and despite her initial temptation to stall Pierrette felt her smile blossom and she turned, the skirt too fitted to flare and bloom, but perfect to gently swish and stir. For a moment it was almost like dancing, and Pierrette tried to imagine what the gens would have thought of it, to see the boy turned girl as the fey woman she was meant to be. She felt careless and feminine and the oddity of it was delightful.

"You are too kind," she assured him, as she would after any compliment. "The dress is the loveliest I could find. I am afraid I did not know quite what black tie called for... I assumed black would be sufficient." Her head ducked, her smile small and coy. "Also, I look nothing compared to you and your friend. I have never before seen people look so beautiful. But I suppose I should not be surprised, with how polished you always appear."

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"Nonsense," Kurt replied, shaking his head lightly, his smile widening a touch as he watched the fabric fall back to place with a gentle, smooth movement. "Your outfit matches the black tie theme perfectly, I assure you. And while it may not be as outlandish as Santana's dress- which, by the way, isn't saying much, she always needs to be the one who stands out most in the crowd- I think that there is so much more to be said for subtlety. A quiet beauty, you know? The kind where everyone's forced to look more closely once their eyes land on you, because trust me, most of them won't know what hit them."

Tilting his head over towards the food and the music, Kurt graciously leads her there, feeling more than a bit protective of the girl. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? I'm making them hold back on serving you any wine, I know, it makes me a total fun sponge, but we've got a wide assortment of juices and lots of ice water, if you're more interested in the dance floor than the refreshments."

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Pierrette's nose crinkled, her amusement loud enough whether she chose to laugh or not. She was not a head turner, at least never in the typical sense. If she was noticed at all she was only ever whispered about, cruel barbs and hateful words to be murmured behind her back. But more than that she had only ever been invisible, like a shade passing through a crowd unheeded and unnoticed. She was seen, she was merely nothing to be considered. Then again, she thought looking down at her dress. Perhaps she was only as noticeable as what she wore. She determined to experiment with that later on

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"Let me guess," he interjected, shaking his head in light dismay at the thought that anyone could make Pierrette doubt her own appearance- although, then again, hadn't Quinn also had her periods of shaken confidence, perfect though she seemed from head to toe? "Hair of some type of impossibly bright color, like spun gold or a setting sun? And then, to top that off, a thin yet still somehow curvy frame, the kind that most boys keep their eyes on from miles away? Trust me, Pierrette, that kind of nearly-manufactured beauty is overrated, and its time on the top of the podium will someday come to an end. Actually, I think with many crowds, exoticism is already starting to outweigh Barbie doll looks."

Glancing over at Ianto with a winning smile, before the bar owner slides over a couple of passionfruit smoothies, Kurt pushes one towards Pierrette and leans against the bar, intent on keeping her company as she's requested. "Either way, darling, I am totally yours for as long as you'd like. The others can wait. Until Assassins starts,

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Pierrette offered an amused smile. "You forgot that she is tall. Marie took after our father's blood, the blood of Gauls and Celts. I am my mother's child, in spirit as well as face." That much she had learned after so many mornings and father's drunken nights, where simply walking into the room and he would look to her, face suddenly pale and slack as if seeing a ghost, a figment of his broken past. "I am aware that as a girl coming of age I am not unattractive, I know this on an academic level. I have sufficient features but I suppose there is a piece of me that has not fully come into itself yet. I was Piers for so long that now I struggle to be Pierrette at all."

Pierrette pulled one of the colorful drinks towards her, sipping the cold sweet nectar delicately. "Is it strange that I always feel more like I should when I am with you?" She asked, curious. "You just have this way of it."

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"Height is... a detail which receives greater contention in my world," Kurt explained with a knowing arch of his brow. "At least, when it comes to women, certainly. With men, taller might be better a majority of the time, but expectations run pretty far and wide with the fairer sex, to be a little blunt. Supermodels, those supposedly painted as ideals in our world, have to be pretty tall to make it by. My height, at least, if not significantly taller in many cases. Yet, when you see the girls with most dates at my age, I'd have to say that shorter girls get just as much attention, if not more, than taller ones. Maybe it has something to do with men often feeling intimidated by having to approach someone taller than themselves."

Tempted though Kurt was to ask more about the line between Piers and Pierrette, the slight gap in time caught him just before he could, silencing him instead as he considered her question with an expression pleasantly surprised. "As for feeling more like you should, darling, that's all I could ever want for

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"I have always been petite, even amongst the children who were younger." She explained earnestly. "But suddenly in this place I was so much more aware of it. I'm not a child anymore, but here I am towered over. The men here are taller than the men of home, and the women as well. I feel so small some days, like I am so much younger than I really am." Pierrette had grown accustomed to that feeling even before the island, thanks to her years of study in Anselm's keep. So much time passed with her master, decades blurring together. When she finally went home after weeks and months she had difficulty remembering how old she really was.

The look she gave Kurt was fond and not for the first time she felt that dangerous tumble in her belly, the one that made her think of Marcus and of Lovi of home. "You have a blessing," she told him, and for that moment she could believe that Ma had sent him to the island so she could have moments like this, where they could talk and joke and be friends. "There are no men like you in Citharista, I find

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Offering a thin laugh, Kurt had to wonder what she meant by men like him. Of course, he knew the trait which most people plucked out as being characteristic of him, even if Kurt himself felt that it was more about his preferences than about himself as a person. Somehow, though, he didn't get the sense that Pierrette was the type of character to focus on such a detail, certainly not the type to bring it up, so he found himself with an unsettling mix of trepidation and curiosity, gaze momentarily dropping to the bar before he took another sip of his drink, setting the glass back down with a light tap and tapping his own index finger to this temple.

"I suppose that depends on the type of man you think I am. It could just be that I've done remarkably well in the acting department, making you think that I'm a completely normally functioning guy," he joked with a light shrug. "But really, Pierrette, you're the blessing. I always feel like we're able to talk to each other quite easily. It's not something I find with most people."

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Pierrette followed his gaze, a sense of wonder filling her. She was a watcher, perception was her tool for survival, the key to keeping her poised and alert. She knew not everyone was as easily happy as the surface might tell but to see a moment of doubt or a flicker of shattered confidence left her curious. Her friend was a spectacular sort, the kind she had never seen before him. It seemed impossible for anything to break his shell so easily, but she resolved to not pursue it so soon. It was Kurt's story to tell and as his friend she would to him the courtesy of letting him choose what he was ready to tell her.

"You are too modest." She told him, warm but firm. "I did not lie when I said there are no men like you I have known. You are... winsome. Aside from my master the men I have known have always been... cold, without tact. You inspire warmth and safety, you shine in a way I never thought men could. You are not a brute or simply one of the gens. I am ashamed to say I thought all men were this way, but now I see differently. You