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"Why don't you stop wasting my time and give me a real discount?" Nami asked, firmly slamming her fist on the counter.
"Please don't be angry! I'm doing my best!" The cashier apologized, "But, c'mon, I can't take 50% off no matter how much you buy. They're marked down enough already!"
The man looked to be on the brink of tears, and you couldn't help but snicker.
"Nami, leave the poor man alone..." you smiled, feeling a little bad for him, "He's just doing his job. And besides, you can buy more clothes when we get to Fishman Island."
"Nope," she denied, popping the p, as she grabbed another humongous pile of clothes, "I can see that you are clearly trying to out-glam me, so I gotta glam back!"
She turned to the cashier, placing down the new pile.
"You drive a hard bargain. I'll buy these, too. But I want 90% off."
The man nearly fainted and you laughed, surprised by Nami's playful rivalry.
"Nami, you've owned more clothes than I've ever worn. I think it's safe to say that between the two of us, you're the one out-glamming me," you assured, resting your palm in your cheek as you leaned on the counter.
The girl pouted, looking you up and down with saddened eyes.
"But, look at you!" She playfully whined, "You got so sexy while you were training! And your outfit is killer, too!"
And even if you wouldn't admit it, she was indisputably right.
Antiope's training was grueling, rebuilding you and your power from practically the ground up.
But the result was phenomenal.
You were drop-dead gorgeous.
Not to say that you weren't before, but just significantly more so.
The training toned you just the right amount and helped carve out your curves, your hair grew down to your butt, and your skin was practically glowing thanks to Antiope's apothecary skills.
Which she also taught you.
It was safe to say that you were at least a quadruple threat.
"My outfit?" You asked, smiling as you looked down at yourself, "I didn't even have a choice! My master made me wear this."
"You look as beautiful as a shooting star, (y/n)!" Antiope gushed, proud of the outfit she made for you.
"Anti! I can't wear this! I can't tell if I should be pulling it up or pulling it down..." You flushed, embarrassed.
She weaved you an incredibly short, white skirt, and an equally short halter top to match, which could be tied in the back so your wings had room.
