charlie west, also known as 'cactus the angry elf' (littledeadly) wrote in immune_ic,
Charlie/Open
Charlie was not drunk enough for this. Even on her third beer, she wasn't drunk enough, not by a long shot. She had no idea how she'd been conned into this at all, let alone while stone-cold sober, but she was coming to realize that her inability to say 'no' to Rodeo was becoming a problem. If it had been anyone else that had said 'wear a dress, and make sure it's short', she would have punched them in the face before shooting them a few times for good measure. With him? Well. She hadn't even needed to see his stupid, pleading, puppy-dog-eyes face to relent.
She hadn't a goddamn clue how to go about looking for a dress, so she turned to the only friend she had that did know about that sort of thing: Dani. The older woman had always been the one to drag Charlie to the FBI functions, and always seemed to know exactly how to dress. So, in exchange for Charlie watching Nat for the day, Dani had gone out and picked her up an entire outfit while running a few errands, with one caveat: Charlie wasn't allowed to look at the outfit until she got changed into it.
That was a mistake, she realized now. Here she was, with her blonde hair pulled back into a messy, tousled bun, wearing makeup (okay, eyeliner and chapstick, but it was still more than she was used to), and she hadn't even seen Rodeo yet. By the time she'd gotten changed, he'd been off doing... something. Whatever. He could come to her. Her bare legs were goddamn cold and she didn't want to walk around more than she had to.
The black dress, which seemed to be made up of strips of fabric sewn together, was far too short and tight for Charlie's tastes. The black fabric stretched tightly across her bust and fit like a second skin down to her waist, where it flared out into a slightly looser skirt that was just long enough to avoid being called obscene. The black leather blazer Dani had packed, no doubt intended to be worn outside, stayed firmly on her shoulders-- the black straps of the dress didn't exactly cover much, and she didn't want everyone staring at the painful reminder of her past she wore on her shoulder. Not while she was sober, anyway. Charlie thanked whatever deity might be out there that she'd had the foresight to pack a pair of nude bicycle shorts, short enough to be practically invisible underthe dress, which would protect her dignity when she inevitably made some ungraceful drunken move.
With that thought in mind, Charlie chugged the rest of her beer. It was well beyond time to move on to the vodka.