"You bet your ass you're not wearing that," Jamie said unthinkingly, his eyes widening like saucers when he realized the words that'd come out of his mouth. He immediately tried to 'fix' it. He was going to fix it, he of the foot-in-mouth syndrome. Right. "I mean, you wear whatever you want! Just don't expect me to be beating the wolves offa ya if you go out... uh... wearing that. Hm."
He looked away and prayed for death for a few seconds. Why on earth did he say something like that? Yeah, he was just being protective of a friend, but it really didn't come across that way now, did it? The words trouble and not being a student anymore just made Jamie blush all the more. It wasn't just the fact that Sarah was so damn young, it... well, yeah, it was.
She deserved better, that was for sure. What could she possibly want with the bucketful of baggage and neuroses that was Jamie Madrox? He was a washout at thirty-four. That had to be some kind of record. Besides, he couldn't. Sarah was a good friend. Jamie could be a tolerable friend, but he really was a toxic boyfriend, as his track record could attest.
"Look. This isn't part of some great conspiracy to get you to socialize. I personally don't give a crap about that. God knows I'm happiest when I'm alone in my apartment. The only reason I want you to go is... well, you know... misery loves company and all that," he mumbled.
He stepped inside and cocked an eyebrow at the mention of costume. "I'm not wearing any dumb costume, girly. You can just put that thought right out of your head."