WHO: Ambrose and Buffy WHERE: Ambrose's Home WHEN: Week 1, Wednesday, Evening Why: Buffy dealing with dressing fancy should be fun! WARNING: Possible mention of slavery, swearing, will add more if applicable!
Buffy had read about the party at Club... Avalon, was it? She'd tried not to look excited when Ambrose had told her they'd be going, but she couldn't help but be just a little bit giddy. Sure, she'd have to put on her obedient, little slave girl act in front of a large number of people, but she'd get to watch, first hand, how events like this went down in this world. Not to mention being able to meet some of the other slaves would be invaluable as she tried to think of some kind of plan to make her presence in Crescent Hills worth it. So, it was with a bounce in her step that she ascended the stairs to her room where she'd been told he outfit for the night had been laid out. Opening the door, she stopped dead in her tracks.
The white lace dress was certainly pretty. And elegant. And expensive-looking. And kind of a little way too short. She turned red just thinking about it and spent nearly ten minutes just standing in the doorway staring at it like she'd walked in on a naked, werewolf orgy.
It wasn't as bad as it could've been, she tried to reason with herself, taking careful steps until she could pick the garment up, pinching it between her fingers as she stared at it for another five minutes. With a stiff upper lip, the Slayer nodded to no one in particular. If this was what he was going to make her wear, she was going to look so amazing that it would be borderline uncomfortable for him. Her task in mind, Buffy stripped and began pulling the ensemble, dress, shoes and whatever accessories he'd left out, on, careful not to dress too hastily lest she rip the thing in half. Once satisfied with her reflection in the mirror, she set to brushing her hair out, choosing to leave it down for once. If Ambrose wanted it up, she was sure he'd let her know. As things stood, make-up and outfit assembled, she thought she looked pretty damn good.
The heels weren't as much of pain to walk in as she'd assumed they would be, but she still grasped the railing as she made her way slowly down the steps, looking for Ambrose to see if she'd beat him at the getting ready game. Part of her might have been quietly curious as to what his reaction would be too. But just a small part.