Amanda, Marie-Ange - Friday lunchtime
May. 22nd, 2009 01:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsMarie-Ange takes on a tough job - getting Amanda to buy work clothes.
"I still don't see why we need to do this again," Amanda complained as she picked through clothes on a rack without really looking at them. Just as well, since the bright colours would have blinded her. "Didn't we go shopping six months ago?"
Marie-Ange pressed her cup of whatever the pretentious coffee of the week was to her forehead. It didn't help much, but it gave her something to concentrate on besides trying to find Amanda-safe clothes in the middle of what seemed to be Pastels, Brights and Bright Pastels. "Yes, and how many pairs of pants do you have right now that do not have a hole, a burn or some sort of fraying cuff because Wanda sneezed and her powers attacked your pants." She paused in thought for a moment. "Or Bishop sneezed. I think he is still having problems with Chaositis."
"Um." Amanda mentally counted. "There's my leather ones?" she said hopefully, but with the knowledge she was well and truly doomed. Had been really, ever since Marie-Ange had appeared at her desk with that "Shopping" look in her eye. "All right, I need new pants. And probably a couple of shirts too, since I wound up getting ectoplasm over my last decent work one the other day. Bloody dimensional warps." Resigning herself - because she really did like her best friend and didn't want to give her a migraine - she looked at the rack. And immediately recoiled. "Fuck, who massacred Fairyland and sprayed the blood all over the place?"
The cup moved to cover Marie-Ange's eyes. Thank God for baristas who understood the virtues of a large sized cup. "This? Is not going to do at all. This is Clarice's idea of work clothes." And when Clarice wore them, she looked professional because she had to work with purple skin and hair. But that was Clarice. "I wonder if I could get Adrienne to tell me who decided that this was trendy this season. So I could shoot them. Or have Jubilee toss them from a roof."
"I could see about finding a nice alternative dimension for them?" Amanda suggested hopefully. "One with unicorns and flowers and all the rest of that bollocks so they don't have to inflict it on us?" She flicked the ruffle on a pastel pink shirt. "Seriously, who wears this shite?"
"Clarice." Marie-Ange's answer was deadpan and accompanied by holding up a houndstooth skirt and jacket combination in a bright spring green. "On someone who is purple, yes. On anyone else, no. There are not so many purple people that I think this was designed for Clarice, and besides, it is not her size, so I do not know what they were thinking. New store, one that does not make me want to get out a flamethrower?" She did, however, make note of the store in her head, to pass it's name and the fact that they were having a sale on to Clarice.
"Please. This is really not helping my whole learning to love shopping experience here," Amanda almost pleaded, heading for the exit. "Tho' if they're getting into the purple people market, bully to them." She breathed a sigh of relief as her boots hit the pavement outside. "The whole place reminded me of dressing Meg - she always went for the bright and frilly line."
"And thank goodness she has mostly outgrown that." Pink ruffles were adorable on Meg when she was small, fuzzy and had the maturity level of a seven year old. Not quite so much now that she was a teenager and interacting with her peers.
Leaving the store was easy. Finding another store that was not selling similarly colored clothes, less so. Apparently pastels and patterns were the new black. "What someone needs to do is open a store that caters to young professionals who want to walk in and buy fourteen of the same exact black pants. They would make a killing on you and Illyana both." Marie-Ange said, teasing.
Amanda stuck her tongue out at her friend, taking the teasing in good humour. "See, I'd completely go for that. Black's easy - it looks good, it doesn't show the dirt and it goes with everything. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing..." Marie-Ange said, speculatively. "If you do not get bored wearing the same pants every day..." She did, but she got bored wearing the same shirt more than once a month. "Maybe what we should do is find you a pair of pants and then order extras. I am sure we could do that, even if they do not have fourteen pairs in the store."
"Pants are pants," Amanda said, aware she was courting thwapping for the statement. "But I like that idea. It'd save on trying to figure out what to wear every morning." She grinned at Marie-Ange. "Think I could do what Pete does, with the identical suits?"
"Ooh, can I talk in the third person and send people to horrible places like Remy does?" Marie-Ange said, giggling. "And Mark can be Wanda! He knows everyone and I think it does not work from there because then who would everyone else be?" She giggled again and then made a thoughtful face. "You could do what Pete does, and get very very good pants that are custom fit, buy twenty of them and only replace them when they get blown up. It might save you money in the long run."
"With the number of times I get blown up, maybe not," Amanda responded dryly. "After Poland, Remy's got me working on putting a lid on my shielding spell so people can't lob grenades over the top of it." She rubbed the back of her head in remembrance. "Good thing I have a hard head?"
Despite the brief mutter of annoyance - not at Amanda, but at the memory of Natasha Romanova and that damned glove - Marie-Ange still peered at Amanda as though she were trying to somehow guess her measurements just by looking at her. "I was joking before, but the more I think about it, the more I think it is a good idea. Black does go with anything, and it looks out of place nowhere, and it does not stain." She led Amanda away from the Shop of Horrible Fairy Doom and towards a store that practically screamed "Professional Businesspeople Shop Here."
"When I tear a pair of trousers or ruin clothing, I enjoy buying more. But that is me and we know that I have more clothes than ... well, perhaps not Mark..." Marie-Ange continued to explain. "But you hate it, and it is not fun, so why keep doing it? If you could skip the shopping, call the store and just order six more pairs of pants... " She half-shrugged with a sly sort of grin. "Then we could just go to lunch at Finnegans the next time without the shopping trip and no one would be the wiser when we took a two hour lunch!"
"See, this is why you're the smart one," Amanda said, practically gleeful. "You have the best ideas." She almost literally bounced into the store. "To the pants!" she declared dramatically.
Marie-Ange giggled, and shook her head. Well, that was one way to get Amanda to almost enjoy shopping. Bribe her with the promise of less shopping and the pub. If only those sorts of things would work on Illyana...
"I still don't see why we need to do this again," Amanda complained as she picked through clothes on a rack without really looking at them. Just as well, since the bright colours would have blinded her. "Didn't we go shopping six months ago?"
Marie-Ange pressed her cup of whatever the pretentious coffee of the week was to her forehead. It didn't help much, but it gave her something to concentrate on besides trying to find Amanda-safe clothes in the middle of what seemed to be Pastels, Brights and Bright Pastels. "Yes, and how many pairs of pants do you have right now that do not have a hole, a burn or some sort of fraying cuff because Wanda sneezed and her powers attacked your pants." She paused in thought for a moment. "Or Bishop sneezed. I think he is still having problems with Chaositis."
"Um." Amanda mentally counted. "There's my leather ones?" she said hopefully, but with the knowledge she was well and truly doomed. Had been really, ever since Marie-Ange had appeared at her desk with that "Shopping" look in her eye. "All right, I need new pants. And probably a couple of shirts too, since I wound up getting ectoplasm over my last decent work one the other day. Bloody dimensional warps." Resigning herself - because she really did like her best friend and didn't want to give her a migraine - she looked at the rack. And immediately recoiled. "Fuck, who massacred Fairyland and sprayed the blood all over the place?"
The cup moved to cover Marie-Ange's eyes. Thank God for baristas who understood the virtues of a large sized cup. "This? Is not going to do at all. This is Clarice's idea of work clothes." And when Clarice wore them, she looked professional because she had to work with purple skin and hair. But that was Clarice. "I wonder if I could get Adrienne to tell me who decided that this was trendy this season. So I could shoot them. Or have Jubilee toss them from a roof."
"I could see about finding a nice alternative dimension for them?" Amanda suggested hopefully. "One with unicorns and flowers and all the rest of that bollocks so they don't have to inflict it on us?" She flicked the ruffle on a pastel pink shirt. "Seriously, who wears this shite?"
"Clarice." Marie-Ange's answer was deadpan and accompanied by holding up a houndstooth skirt and jacket combination in a bright spring green. "On someone who is purple, yes. On anyone else, no. There are not so many purple people that I think this was designed for Clarice, and besides, it is not her size, so I do not know what they were thinking. New store, one that does not make me want to get out a flamethrower?" She did, however, make note of the store in her head, to pass it's name and the fact that they were having a sale on to Clarice.
"Please. This is really not helping my whole learning to love shopping experience here," Amanda almost pleaded, heading for the exit. "Tho' if they're getting into the purple people market, bully to them." She breathed a sigh of relief as her boots hit the pavement outside. "The whole place reminded me of dressing Meg - she always went for the bright and frilly line."
"And thank goodness she has mostly outgrown that." Pink ruffles were adorable on Meg when she was small, fuzzy and had the maturity level of a seven year old. Not quite so much now that she was a teenager and interacting with her peers.
Leaving the store was easy. Finding another store that was not selling similarly colored clothes, less so. Apparently pastels and patterns were the new black. "What someone needs to do is open a store that caters to young professionals who want to walk in and buy fourteen of the same exact black pants. They would make a killing on you and Illyana both." Marie-Ange said, teasing.
Amanda stuck her tongue out at her friend, taking the teasing in good humour. "See, I'd completely go for that. Black's easy - it looks good, it doesn't show the dirt and it goes with everything. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing..." Marie-Ange said, speculatively. "If you do not get bored wearing the same pants every day..." She did, but she got bored wearing the same shirt more than once a month. "Maybe what we should do is find you a pair of pants and then order extras. I am sure we could do that, even if they do not have fourteen pairs in the store."
"Pants are pants," Amanda said, aware she was courting thwapping for the statement. "But I like that idea. It'd save on trying to figure out what to wear every morning." She grinned at Marie-Ange. "Think I could do what Pete does, with the identical suits?"
"Ooh, can I talk in the third person and send people to horrible places like Remy does?" Marie-Ange said, giggling. "And Mark can be Wanda! He knows everyone and I think it does not work from there because then who would everyone else be?" She giggled again and then made a thoughtful face. "You could do what Pete does, and get very very good pants that are custom fit, buy twenty of them and only replace them when they get blown up. It might save you money in the long run."
"With the number of times I get blown up, maybe not," Amanda responded dryly. "After Poland, Remy's got me working on putting a lid on my shielding spell so people can't lob grenades over the top of it." She rubbed the back of her head in remembrance. "Good thing I have a hard head?"
Despite the brief mutter of annoyance - not at Amanda, but at the memory of Natasha Romanova and that damned glove - Marie-Ange still peered at Amanda as though she were trying to somehow guess her measurements just by looking at her. "I was joking before, but the more I think about it, the more I think it is a good idea. Black does go with anything, and it looks out of place nowhere, and it does not stain." She led Amanda away from the Shop of Horrible Fairy Doom and towards a store that practically screamed "Professional Businesspeople Shop Here."
"When I tear a pair of trousers or ruin clothing, I enjoy buying more. But that is me and we know that I have more clothes than ... well, perhaps not Mark..." Marie-Ange continued to explain. "But you hate it, and it is not fun, so why keep doing it? If you could skip the shopping, call the store and just order six more pairs of pants... " She half-shrugged with a sly sort of grin. "Then we could just go to lunch at Finnegans the next time without the shopping trip and no one would be the wiser when we took a two hour lunch!"
"See, this is why you're the smart one," Amanda said, practically gleeful. "You have the best ideas." She almost literally bounced into the store. "To the pants!" she declared dramatically.
Marie-Ange giggled, and shook her head. Well, that was one way to get Amanda to almost enjoy shopping. Bribe her with the promise of less shopping and the pub. If only those sorts of things would work on Illyana...
