[But then, he works under the "fuck what anyone else thinks" mindset.]
I'd be there. Can't say that my other friends would have much interest in fashion, but you can expect me to support you. In whatever it is you wanna do.
[he fucked up his own dream, why not support hers]
[It's really hard to remember that Abbacchio hates himself so much when he's such a supportive guy outwardly. At least he seems less down on himself about it when he's not drunk, though, so that's progress.
Regardless, she scoops up the leather pants, sweater, and butterfly boots, and motions toward the nearest dressing room.]
I'm gonna go change, and we'll see how it looks, okay?
[That's all he can really answer with, because no, he does not feel like a nice guy. He can name a hundred things wrong with himself and why he's a waste of space, but that's not what this outing is for. It's for her, and distracting Reimi, who deserves nice things.]
[She sticks out her tongue at him, giggling as she disappears into the changing room. Her return is understandably delayed by a few things, including but not limited to a brief foray into "how does this shirt even go" as well as "how exactly am I supposed to get into these pants". The boots, at least, are easy, and she leaves her walkaround outfit on the bench in her changing stall before strutting out in her best imitation of —
Well, it's definitely not a model walk, and probably closer to a burlesque saunter, but she seems to be having fun with it.]
Ta-daaaaaaa! What do you think?
[She does a slow pivot, determined not to be nervous as halfway through the turn, the open back of the sweater comes into view — and so do the ragged, marring scars left over from each gouge of Kira Yoshikage's knife.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[But then, he works under the "fuck what anyone else thinks" mindset.]
I'd be there. Can't say that my other friends would have much interest in fashion, but you can expect me to support you. In whatever it is you wanna do.
[he fucked up his own dream, why not support hers]
no subject
[It's really hard to remember that Abbacchio hates himself so much when he's such a supportive guy outwardly. At least he seems less down on himself about it when he's not drunk, though, so that's progress.
Regardless, she scoops up the leather pants, sweater, and butterfly boots, and motions toward the nearest dressing room.]
I'm gonna go change, and we'll see how it looks, okay?
no subject
[That's all he can really answer with, because no, he does not feel like a nice guy. He can name a hundred things wrong with himself and why he's a waste of space, but that's not what this outing is for. It's for her, and distracting Reimi, who deserves nice things.]
All right. Get ready for my judgment face.
no subject
[She sticks out her tongue at him, giggling as she disappears into the changing room. Her return is understandably delayed by a few things, including but not limited to a brief foray into "how does this shirt even go" as well as "how exactly am I supposed to get into these pants". The boots, at least, are easy, and she leaves her walkaround outfit on the bench in her changing stall before strutting out in her best imitation of —
Well, it's definitely not a model walk, and probably closer to a burlesque saunter, but she seems to be having fun with it.]
Ta-daaaaaaa! What do you think?
[She does a slow pivot, determined not to be nervous as halfway through the turn, the open back of the sweater comes into view — and so do the ragged, marring scars left over from each gouge of Kira Yoshikage's knife.]