∂εғιηε ∂εsιяε

A Night Out

[ UNEDITED ]

~-~

"It itches!"

"Oh, stop your complaining. It looks fine."

"Was that a compliment I just heard?"

"Ha, no."

"Why couldn't I just go in my old clothes?"

I scoff and shake my head. "And scare all the local pedestrians away? I don't think so." Abe huffs in annoyance, glaring at everything and everyone. Each person that passes us stays clear of Abe's irritated wrath, each with shocked and slightly scared expressions. But every now and than, a hormonal teenage girl will stop and stare for a minute or two before her boyfriend will glare and lead her away.

"See? Look," I say pointing to a small boy who just took off running for the hills - away from Abe's hateful scowl. "you scared the pore boy." I smirk at Abe who just continues to glare at everything in sight.

After a long, thirty minute argument, another thirty minutes of stuffing his stubborn ram into a nice suite - of which I've had as a model for my other designs - and making sure he looked presentable, I was able to shove him in my car and take him out to dinner.

Shoulden't the rolls be reversed, here?

And now, here we are; standing in front of a tall, elegant building with loads of people passing by among the street, laughing and chatting like there isn't a care in the world.

"Now, number 1: stop glaring at everyone. It freaks them out. Number 2: be polite and don't snap at the nice waitresses, you'll make them have a heart attack on the spot. number 3-"

"Oh, stop you your controlling, woman. I'm not going to kill anyone."

I huff, cocking my hip out and giving him a stern look. "You better not."

"But I don't eat, remember?" He points out.

I shrug. "These places are all about there wine, don't worry." I say waving him off and adjusting my shoulder purse on my arm. "Wait - oh, shoot! I forgot!" Smacking my forehead. He can barely drink tea let alone wine.

"It's ok, that will do." I pause, glancing over at him confused.

"You can drink wine? I thought you could only drink tea.." I mutter.

He shrugs. "I lied." He say's simply. I give him a look, my eyes narrowed before simply rolling them. I shouldn't even be surprised.

I decided that I would take him to a fancy-ish restaurant that wasn't too expansive - one I could actually afford  - and dress him up nice for the occasion. Right now he's wearing a black suite and tie, his long black hair a little more under control than usual and nice, glossy, business shoes.

I'm a miracle worker.

And I'm wearing a short black dress that ends a few inches above my knee's. It has lace sleeves and a sweetheart neckline and I paired it with some black heels, silver hoop earrings and a nice black purse.

"I still don't see the need for this uncomfortable tight, suite. It's itchy!" He complains for the millionth time.

"Always dress to impress, my friend. Always dress to impress." I say as we enter the tall building. I lead the way towards the front counter where a slightly thick girl stands, to much makeup and not enough clothes. Her face is caked by the pound making her look like a clown and her tight pencil skirt is too tight and her white, button up shirt is unbuttoned practically half way down.