cullingsong (cullingsong) wrote in bizarre_city, @ 2013-06-28 07:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | andrew moreau |
October 10
Andrew and Melisande
Late morning
Looking at dresses, yay?
He couldn’t help checking his watch. Or rather, he could have, but he didn’t think to. It wasn’t that he was in any particular hurry or that it even really mattered to him what time it was. It was just a force of habit from all those days that he did have to keep a close watch on the clock to fit everything in. That had once included sneaking in those lunches with Melisande. With her work schedule having been as strict and intense as it was, not being on time could mean he missed out entirely. Some days were more lenient than others. In any case, he didn’t mean anything by it today, but the dirty look he caught from one of the attendants in the bridal shop gave him an idea of just what kind of impression he gave off. He had a bad habit of doing poorly with those. He wasn’t especially fond of the staff here himself so far. He would have guessed the amount they would be spending here would have entitled them to some semblance of customer service, but that didn’t seem to apply to him. Maybe they just weren’t used to having the intended groom present.
But Mel had insisted and it was well-established by now how that always ended. There he sat, waiting to see the third in what he was sure would be a long line of dress options. And they weren’t even looking at wedding gowns yet. She was still playing with bridesmaid ideas. Not that Andrew would complain about seeing her in them. He’d made a joke about helping her in the dressing room which hadn’t earned him much good will with the stern young shop attendant. He just offered her a helpless shrug and lowered his wrist now, letting his sleeve cover the offending watch again. The plan had been to have LIliana model the bridesmaid gowns, which honestly hadn’t made him anxious to accompany her. Liliana, however, was more or less Andrews opposite when it came to keeping track of time and commitments. The nymph meant no slight by it, they both knew, but it did mean they needed a new model, and Mel had seemed giddy enough for it, despite the surely cramped quarters for changing with those prized wings of hers—he couldn’t be sure, since he wasn’t allowed anywhere near those rooms.
At the beginning there had been another man in his role, but he had gotten the impression he was more interested in the dress than the girl underneath it. True or not, the saleswoman (who he speculated had some fancy title and would have been offended if he’d actually called her a sales-anything) had been much more cordial with that one. He wanted to ask this one when her shift was over so he could maybe take Mel to lunch and come back then, but he was about eighty percent sure that would be taken the wrong way. Besides how it would look for him to be seen as flirting with the staff with his fiancée a room away, he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of confirming her dislike of him. had merit.