Tell me what you wanna know;

[Audrey Vandergraaf]

Oh come on, oh come on, oh come on
And then you whisper in my ear
I know what you're doing here

As the young blonde sauntered into the Spectrum, she moved in time with the gentle thrum of the synthetic beat, her pale eyes narrowed as she was on the prowl. Audrey closely inspected the garments that she passed, rack after rack, fingering each cashmere accessory and examining the seams of every silk blouse. She was scheduled to catch a plane to New York in less than 24 hours, and she had nothing appropriate to wear for the upcoming festivities… and by “nothing appropriate to wear” she meant that she was embarrassingly saddled with last season’s garb.

Disappointed with the pastel options presented, Audrey glided toward the darker section of the store, eying both black velvet and jewel-toned chiffon. As much as she found the layout tacky and jarring, she had to admit that the color-coded aisles were extremely convenient.

“Hm…” she mused out loud, picking up a little black bondage dress, holding it against her lithe frame as she met her own icy gaze in the mirror. “I don’t think mother would appreciate this…” Audrey didn’t mind talking to herself, even if seemed odd; it’s not like anyone was here. She returned the sultry bodycon number to its home on the wooden hanger. She had never worked retail, clearly, but she couldn’t stand when people didn’t return items to the areas where they first found them.

The ballerina was beginning to grow frustrated, the movements of her hands quickening as she flipped through dresses like cards in a Rolodex. “This could work…” she decided as she pulled out a playful velvet babydoll dress, its dark fabric accented with intricate lacework. “Ugh, but that empire waist is going to make me look pregnant!” Audrey bemoaned, her fragile hands briefly sliding along the concave slope of her stomach. “Ick.”

She maintained her manners despite a mounting irritation, retuning, yet again, another unwanted dress to the rack. What was the point of even coming here? This was obviously a futile endeavor.

[Perry Fairfax]

Perry was not the sort to fret much over fashion. As far as he was concerned most things didn't present the proper image he want to present and had a bad habit of making him look like he got his clothes at Goodwill. As far as he was concerned, the color spectrum started in white, went on into tan then turned brown and ended in black. And as far as he was concerned, what looked good last year would look good this year as well. These three facts made the pile of clothing he carried a bit of a perplexing sight.

Unfortunately, the path between the slightly-more-black-than-those-other-blacks and the dressing room was occupied by a willowy figure, one that was hidden behind the massive pile of clothing he was carrying. With a muffled grunt, he bumped into Audery at full walking speed.

[Audrey Vandergraaf]

Audrey was frustrated with her “limited” dress options, her vision impaired by armfuls of clothing when a thin redheaded boy stumbled straight into her, sending them both tumbling to the floor. She thought she recognized him, or at least his flaming red hair and thick rimmed glasses; he didn’t have the kind of look one could easily forget.

“Are you alright?” she asked out of formality, gathering herself up from the scattered pile of clothing the crash had created; she hated messes, and thus she quickly began to gather the pieces from the floor in a systematic pattern, minimizing the chaos.
He seemed okay though, it’s not like this was the result of some violent collapse.

“I guess we’re both fans of black,” she mused, returning her own selected dresses to their respective hangers, a wry smirk playing on her lips, “People say it’s slimming, but people lie.”

Yes, Audrey was still very bitter about her last altercation with the dressing room mirror.