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[droppedstitch]

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[droppedstitch]

Ever since they showed up at Ulla's party in that green dress, Istra has been fascinated by them. The way they walk and move and talk. The strange confidence they carry despite everything.

It's intriguing.

She rolls her eyes. "Well, now I have changed my mind."

[anashthetic]

"Oh, don't be that way," she grins, getting her metaphorical feet back under her. "If I wanted to see you blush, I'd ask for help with lingerie."

Not that Ashton, you know, owns any anymore. She figures she could probably stand to, but it's really not been anything near a priority at any point.

[droppedstitch]

That's just mean. Istra holds her reaction back, but she is very clearly affected.

"Is that true? Well, my friend gave me a pair or two."

She makes a move with her fingers for Ashton to turn around. She needs to see the fit from all angles.

"If you wanted to make me the model."

[anashthetic]

Unfortunately, Ashton is still an ass even in the best of circumstances.

"I wouldn't be opposed." They obediently follow her instructions, making sure she gets a good visual from whatever angle she'd like.

[droppedstitch]

The silhouette is good, the fit better, and she's satisfied. "When we are finished here, then. That's a good one. You can add some different shirts."

[anashthetic]

"You're certain the yellow works?"

[droppedstitch]

"Yes. I'm certain the yellow works," she says, faux offended. "It's just the right shade. Any lighter would wash you out. Any darker would look terrible."

[anashthetic]

"I defer to your wise judgment," he says with a half-assed pretense at humility and a sweeping bow, not bothering to disguise his smile, "madame Istradez."

[droppedstitch]

"Fuck you," she says with a rude gesture that may or may not translate.

"Do you want another outfit?"

[anashthetic]

It doesn't translate, but it's performed with such intent to it that he gets the gist. "Not in the middle of the Wardrobe, you won't," Ashton deadpans, and then switches the deadpan right back off for a "Yes, actually."

[droppedstitch]

She pauses. "You don't know me very well."

But that turns to a giggle. "How do you feel about a skirt with pants underneath?"

[anashthetic]

"Certainly not well enough for that, you haven't even bought me dinner yet."

They tip their head to the side in consideration. "...Intrigued. Go on."

[droppedstitch]

"You don't buy anyone dinner here when you're trying to woo them."

She tosses them a white buttoned shirt with bright, thin lines in random patterns and color.

"You find them clothes they like."

[anashthetic]

"That explains why no one else has ever done it," he laughs, already moving to change into the new article of clothing.

[droppedstitch]

She stares at them a moment. "Ashton. Do you realize that I am trying to woo you?"

And then they are being thrown a deep red, short skirt followed by thin, black pants.

"Which is - very difficult to do because I feel like shit, but you are bringing me a lot of stupid joy right now, but you don't even notice it."

[anashthetic]

"No one else doesn't mean no one including you," Ashton protests; these clothes she catches but doesn't opt to put on just yet. "I was attempting to give you a chance to reconsider?"

[droppedstitch]

She shrugs. "I don't want to reconsider. Believe me. I hate myself enough to know that it's a bad idea, but I'm also selfish."

[anashthetic]

"Oh, good, then that makes two of us."

[droppedstitch]

"Good. So you don't have to argue with me anymore."

She rolls her eyes. "Now get dressed. Let me see how it looks."

[anashthetic]

He mutters something under his breath that might be "Yes, mother," and again opts to change right in front of her, because harmlessly tormenting other people is one of his small joys in unlife.

[droppedstitch]

She sucks air in her teeth. "What was that?" she asks sharply, though the bite behind the words is all play.

[anashthetic]

"What was what?" He sounds so fucking honest about it, just the right blend of confusion and curiosity, though the effect is shattered by their smirk.

[droppedstitch]

She throws a shoe at them.

[anashthetic]

They bat it out of the air almost on reflex, not bothering with the charade of letting it connect. "Rude? And after I've been nothing but gracious." That is five hundred percent the smirk of someone who is actively opting to be a shit.

[droppedstitch]

There's another shoe, but Istra opts to try and tackle them to the ground instead.

She knows it won't work and she'll probably end up flat on her ass, but it's fun either way. And she knows that shitty look. It's the same one she gives her brother. She can't let that stand!