Bubblegum Crisis: Tokyo 2040
No. 28 You Make Me (Look What You're Doing To Me)

"God, I hate this place," she murmured under her breath as she stalked the aisles. Wary of the hushed, quiet voices, Priss narrowed her eyes as she scowled. The lights were far too bright for her tastes, and she was hardly camoflauged, her black synthetic leather biking gear announcing her presence far greater than if she had simply whipped out a bullhorn and started singing sailing songs.

"So far, so good, though," she assured herself, crouching down. The heavy scent in the air was sweet, almost to the point of making her vomit, and she slunk low, winding about the obstacles in her path with a grimace. Stopping for a second as she heard footsteps approaching, she ducked for some cover. She let her mind wander, thoughts of her secluded trailer on the outskirts of the city. The quiet, the solitude, things she loved dearly, and missed all awaited her far from where she was now. Peering out from her hiding space, she saw her ultimate destination.

"One good sprint," she muttered to herself, and she bolted.

And that's when she got her boot caught on the metal bra and panties rack, sending lingerie to the floor like so much debris. Lurching, her eyes widened as she stumbled forwards, choking back a gasp as she hopped on one foot to regain balance, and ended up on her rear with a thong on her head. The day's patrons at the Silky Doll lingerie store rushed to see, and Priss became the centerpeice for a miniature disaster zone, the crass biker chick surrounded by overpriced underwear as far more 'feminine' women tittered at the sight of her.

Blushing furiously, she gave the spectators a withering scowl that made the laughter slightly nervous, and she bared her teeth, flinging the underwear off her head with a quick movement of her hand.

Why, out of all places, had Sylia decided to put the Knight Sabers headquarters in a panty store? The thought played viciously in Priss's mind as she fantasized about garroting the Knight Saber leader with a peek-a-boo nightie as she lurched to her motorcycle-booted feet. She could think of a dozen better places to put it. Hell, for example. All the frilly undergartments hurt her eyes, and what hurt her eyes even more was the thought of some of the ugliest, overweight, or just flat out old customers that she had seen trying on some of the teeniest panties known to science. If Genom nanotechnology was being used to create this awful crap, she thought with a scowl as she kicked a gossamer thin garter belt out of her way, then this is exacly why they all had to die. Sylia had once showed her the latest in 2040 pantywear: the microthong.

"That's not underwear," Priss had muttered as she picked one up, "It's an eyepatch."

It was a regular combat exercise every time she needed to visit the training area, or Sylia decided to call one of her 'meetings' during the store's operating hours she thought, as she stomped over the the back room. Never having found much preoccupation in bras and panties past the fact that she put them on sometimes when she wasn't spending the day drinking almost expired milk out of a carton and watching TV, she had tried numerous ways to get past the gauntlet of rich fat women purchasing thongs, bored housewives that were trying to find something to start their office-worker husbands cold dead libido up, and airheads looking for the 'kyootest' lacy brassier. She used to try to pretend to be a buyer.

Yeah, that had worked. Everyone had stared at her as if she was a fashion refugee. Where everyone smelled like perfume, she smelled of beer, cigarettes, and motor oil, not to mention that she had to lay Sylia's first (and last) hired hand flat when the snooty little twit had informed her that she should 'shop someplace else'. Honestly, punching out the 'bra nazi' hadn't been all that bad, and the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile as she threw open the door and sauntered inside.

Now she went in commando style. It had become her private little game, much like eating the last cookie in the Knight Saber refrigerator, drinking the last cup of coffee, or smoking in the bathroom despite the fact that Sylia was allergic to the smoke.

"Why? 'Cause I'm a bitch, that's why," she announced as she walked into the lounge where Nene was playing a game of cards with Linna, both wearing the most ultimate in bored expressions. The two girls looked up and shrugged. When Priss was having a 'deep thought' day, it was usually a good idea not to ask any questions, smile, and hoped it passed soon.

"Hey Priss," said Linna as she peered at her cards carefully. Her mind wandered, and she eventually tossed them down onto the table. "Why the heck am I playing cards with you?" Linna asked with an incredulous look on her face as reality struck her. "You're a computer genius. You can count the cards."

"Crap," muttered Nene, "I was hoping you wouldn't notice." Morosely, she took Linna's watch and earrings out of her pocket, and placed them back on the table.

"That was dirty," Linna said with a scowl as she affixed the earrings back to their rightful place.

"I was going to give them back when you caught on, really!" Nene said hastily, shrinking back slightly at the office lady's expression. "There's just nothing to do anymore. All the boomers are fixed, and Galatea's dead." Girlishly, she looked down, pushing her two index fingers together as if they were her only source of entertainment.

"Speak for yourself, munchkin," called Priss as she slammed the fridge door shut with her foot, arms full of sandwich supplies. The biker made her way to the kitchen proper, her cycle boots making a cracking noise on the immaculate linoleum.

"You have something to do?" Linna asked, getting up and heading to the kitchen, her loafers padding much softer than the hobnails on Priss's frogstompers. "I'm jealous. I'm so bored, I'm worksick. They just haven't rebuilt my workplace yet." Tugging on the refrigerator door, she procured herself an apple, and went to wash it. Nene soon popped her head into the kitchen, zipping over to the cutting board where Priss was using far too many condiments in a lazily built sandwich. Tenatively, Nene reached out to swipe a glob of ketchup oozing from the side of the french bread setup, and she popped the finger in her mouth, only to receive a nonplussed look from Priss. Nene rocked back and forth on her heels, wide eyed at the taller, more impressive woman, and backed up a step or two.

With a snort, Priss turned out, taking a bite out of the impromptu meal, causing a glob of mayonnaise to splatter on the countertop as she walked over to the lounge again, her keen combat honed instincts panning the room for the telltale signs of the television remote. "Yeah," she mumbled over a mouth of reprocessed turkey, "Lotsa stuff."

"Like?" Nene and Linna prompted, like two women starved for entertainment as they leaned forwards, staring at Priss as if she was the last helicopter out of Saigon.

"Like stuff," she replied, leaning back slightly and sheilding her sandwich with a hand.

"'C'mon, Priss-chan! Don't hold out on us!" Nene pleaded with wide eyes, "Puh-leeeeeze?" She brought her hands up in front of her, bowing her head in Japanese prayer as she rubbed her hands together.

"Yeah, please, Priss?" Linna asked, closing her eyes as she rubbed the back of her head. "Before we started playing cards, Nene and I were trying to determine if the weatherman on channel six was a toupee wearer or not."

These people are my friends? Priss thought with a wry smirk. They're the only ones that'll put up with me, at any rate. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, and took another bite of her sandwich. "Well," she started, and paused, chewing. When she opened her eyes, Nene and Linna stood by her, expectantly leaning forwards for her next word. "I..." she said, and bit into her sandwich again, pausing to chew.

"PRISS!" Nene whined as Linna just grimaced.

"..'m just stopping by. I dropped my other bike off with Nigel, and had a rehearsal at four." She checked the wall clock which read six, and considered, "Leon said he'd come by here at seven and..."

"Wha?!" Nene squealed, her eyes sparkling as she stared at Priss. "The jaded, coldhearted Priss is going on an honest to goodness, real live date?"

"Nene," Linna said amusedly, placing a hand on the younger Knight Saber's shoulder, "Let her finish talking, first."

With a look of incomprehension, the biker bit into her sandwich. "He just asked if I was busy after practice and if I wanted to do something," she said swallowing and wiping her mouth with her hand. "It's been awhile, so.."

"Ah, Leon! I've missed you so," crooned Nene as she fell into Linna's arms, tossing her own about the athletic brunette's midsection. With a laugh, Linna tossed her arms about the short blonde, and got into the act.

"Oh Priss! I too, have longed for you embrace! Too long are the hours that pass when we are not together! My heart beateth like crazy with your touch," Linna replied in a poor parody of Leon's voice, which caused the two women to dissolve into giggles, tearing at the eyes as Priss blushed furiously.

"Where the hell do you people get ideas like that?" Priss half shouted, feeling the burning in her cheeks.

"Oh come off it. Remember before we left for space? Behind the satellite dish? What were you doing with your tongue in his mouth? Taking his temperature?" Linna teased as Priss's head threatened to catch fire as she turned a deep crimson as she tried to sputter an incomprehensible explaination.

"Well, something hot was going on," Nene added, poking Priss in the ribs. "Seriously though. I think it's sweet. I'm glad you two are working out."

"You.. are?" Priss asked in a somewhat smaller voice, blinking in confusion.

"Yeah, I thought I'd have to tell Leon-pea that you had 'different' tastes ," Nene finished, quoting the word different with her fingers. Linna snorted a laugh, and Nene's straight face cracked, and soon both of them were on the floor, bawling with laughter.

"Can't.... breathe..."

"I hate you both," muttered Priss, turning on the TV as she sat down.

"Daley, what time is it?"

"What did you do with the watch I gave you for Christmas?"

"It sucked."

"What do you mean 'it sucked'? It was a great watch."

"It sucked."

"It had five functions and a luminescent display!"

"Sure. If you count telling minutes, hours, and seconds three functions, and the 'luminescent' display only worked during the daytime, because the sun was shining on it!"

"Well, it still told time! So what happened to it?"

"It broke."

"It broke? It was a Timex!"

"Daley, what the hell is the time?"

"Six, give or take a few minutes," Daley Wong said with a sigh as he got coffee from the vending machine in the AD Police breakroom. The dapper AD Police detective looked down at his larger partner, and shook his head. "What's got you all in a hurry? Usually you only go home when you run out of bullets to shoot at the range."

Leon shrugged, and leaned against the wall as Daley sipped his coffee. The rough, macho looking police officer was intimidating to some, but hardly to Daley, who had known his partner so long that even when Leon wasn't saying anything, he could read him like a first grade primer. Knowingly, Daley closed his
eyes, and sipped again at the paper cup. "We have a date."

"What the..?"

"A date with our singer." Another sip and a knowing smirk. Leon stood up, mouth agape, and he raised a finger as if to explain, curse, or protest. "And you have no idea in hell where to take her because you're still floating off the fact that she said yes."

Leon fell back to the bench, and lowered his head into his hands. How in the hell did Daley do that? The bastard was obviously some telepathic mutant like in those manga books he read as a kid. Well, at least he used his awesome powers for good, Leon thought sarcastically, as he looked at Daley's smug expression. "Pretty much, yeah," Leon eventually replied in defeat.

Now that the tension and feeling of urgency that had come with the whole end of the world thing had passed over, it seemed that he was back to square one with Priss. She was as hard to read as ever, and while she didn't call him a maggot like she used to when they first met, she didn't seem as... well... interested as she used to be, which worried the detective no end. The whole mad boomer business had nothing when it came to mysterioussness when matched with that woman's feelings, Leon thought.

"Luckily, you're talking to the right guy," Daley said, opening an eye to peer down at his partner with a smirk.

"And what," laughed Leon dismissively, "would you know about women? Aren't you.. uh.." Leon blinked, and raised his hand, only to let it fall limp at the wrist as he scratched the back of his head. "Er. You are, aren't you?"

Clearing his throat, Daley adjusted his tie, and sniffed. "And who, exactly, do you think women confide in more often? Big, burly overtestosteroned action junkies.. or guys like me?" Daley crumpled his cup, and looked at Leon again, waving his finger as he pushed the wireframe glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'll let you think about that. It'll take a minute for it to seep in," Leon's partner said knowingly as he watched Leon's bout of incomprehension go for the full fifteen rounds.

"Hey!" The frontline officer grunted, running his fingers through his closely cropped black hair. Thinking could be an awful chore for him; that's what Daley was for. "I'm not stupid. It's just.. I mean.. damn. Well, what the hell do you think she wants?" Defeated, he kicked the coffee machine, adding yet another dent to it's base.

"Ah, so he relents, and asks the master. Finally, he realizes the information before him, and thus will owe his partner big time!" Daley grinned like a man that had won the lottery, and turned about, tossing his hands in the air. "Truly," Daley said in mock drama as he clenched a hand over his heart, "this is the dawn of a new era for Leon McNichol."

Setting his jaw and following his elated friend, Leon looked on with a decidedly unimpressed look on his face, and he pulled his wallet from his pocket. "How much is this going to cost me?" Leon grumbled under his breath as he leafed through the bills.

"Aw, I'm just yanking your chain, although stopping at a cafe for lunch when we go on patrol would be nice, instead of always going to those horrible greasepits would be appreciated," came Daley's cool, placid reply. Slipping his hands in his pockets, he paused expertly, awaiting the answer that he knew Leon would reply with. Leon always kept his emotions so close to the top when he wasn't blowing things up, no wonder he always wanted to spend time at the range. Ah, to be in love, he thought, and chuckled. Leon was a big teenager around Priss, and opportunities like this.. well, they were to be savored at any occasion.

"Alright.. fine. We'll stop at one of those places, but I'm not drinking tea, got that?" Leon grated, and scowled. The score was Leon: two, Daley: astronomical. Just once, he'd like to rattle Daley's cage a bit. Sure they were pals, but that smug, smarmy, shiteating grin that always appeared on his partner's face, especially when it came to his one (of many) weakness was really starting to get to him.

"How generous of you," said the cleaner cut officer, closing his eyes. "Now, here's what you should do, if she really is that very special someone you've been pining for."

"Pipe down, and keep it to the details, would you?" Leon urged as they passed by a AD police dispatcher on their way out of the room who looked at them strangely. "You want everyone to hear you?"

"Oh trust me. If you score, everyone will hear about it from you anyhow."

"It's not like that!"

"Mmhmm. Anyhow, here's what you do..."

"So, where's he taking you?" Nene asked, wiping tears from her eyes as she finally got up off the floor. Linna had recovered moments before, and was hastily munching at her apple, not looking directly at Priss who was taking the commercial break from her favorite show to toss irritated glares at her two teammates.

Leon was Leon. He was a big, stupid AD Police officer. Seeing him wasn't a big deal. In those tense, worrisome days, she had let herself go and opened up far too much too fast to Leon, and now she was unsure. Sure, thought Priss. And maybe if I keep repeating that kind of crap to myself and beleive it, I'll run for parliament. Just kind of thinking about her police officer made her face go red. Her big, dopey, sentimental but brave teddybear...

"Hello! Priss!" Nene waved her hand in front of the quiet Knight Saber's eyes, and shook her shoulder. "Romanova to Asagiri! Where's he taking you?" Nene peered at Priss's bright red face, and grinned. "Oh-ho. I see, I see. One of those places." Linna choked on her apple.

"Priss! On the first date?" Linna said incredulously, her own cheeks growing red. "Things sure do move fast in the big city," she mused, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.

"Stop thinking," growled Priss in Nene's face, "it just really doesn't suit you. For your information, he didn't say, and I have no idea in hell why I'm telling you anything."

"Leon-pyon must be more of a casanova than I thought," Nene chirped, eyes closed in merriment as she brought her index finger to her lips. "Of course, that means I'll have to grill him about it tomorrow. I never thought that putting you two together would turn out so well!" The bright eyed blonde was practically bouncing in her seat when Priss grabbed her by the collar.

"Okay! That's it!" Priss snarled, standing up and dragging Nene over to the practice pit.

"Aieee! No! Not again! I'm still healing the last bruises! Linna! Help!"

"Priss, she was only teasing! Tell her you were just teasing, Nene!" Linna vaulted over the back of the couch, and grabbed Priss by both her shoulders, and tugged. Slowed considerably, Priss's face was contorted with rage as she was still able to make slow, staggered steps, Linna holding her back as Nene struggled in her iron fisted grip.

No matter how much Nene kicked and struggled, it was just no use, as Priss's battle trained and heavily exercised body outclassed her strength by a considerable margin. Even Linna was more built for speed and agility rather than just raw, unadultered power. Giving up, the young blonde put all her effort into the one thing she knew might be able to curtail an early death by teammate: screaming.

Linna winced at the high pitched screeching, and grunted as she braced her feet. Once Priss set her mind to something, it was damn near impossible to get her to change her mind, and it looked like Nene burger patties was on today's agenda. Gripping with both hands, she tried again with a mighty yank, and yelped as she found herself sailing backwards, pinwheeling her arms about, and landing on her back with a thud as Priss stopped moving and turned, easily dislodging Linna's grasp. With a dull thud, Linna lay on her back, sprawled across the floor, quickly followed by Nene as Priss casually let go, causing Nene to slump to the ground like a sack of potatoes. With a somewhat suprised look on her face, Priss pulled out her phone from the pocket of her bright red cycling jacket, and flipped it open.

"Yeah?" Priss muttered into the receiver, completely forgetting about Nene and Linna, who were busy catching their breaths. "Oh. Hey. Yeah. I'm good. You?" The Knight Saber's confused expression shifted to a ghost of a smile as she spoke, the 'bite me' tone of voice disappearing and replaced by her more friendly conversational tone. "Oh. Huh. Really? Well..." Priss turned away from her friends, who were gradually finding the energy to stand up, to hide the indecisiveness on her face. "You see, I really.. Gah!"

Nene leapt up, and snatched the phone from Priss's hand, and put it to her ear with an huge grin, bolting like a scared rabbit. Almost immediately, her more violent teammate was on her heels. "Hello? Oh! Leon-pea!" Linna winced, and buried her face in her hands. Turning back to the TV, she picked the remote up, and flipped the channels.

"You're on your own this time," Linna grumbled from the corner of her mouth.

"Sure she has a nice dress like that! You just stop by at seven, and we'll take care of everything, okay? Mmmhmm, bye-bye!" Nene chirruped into the receiver, knowing that in her motorcycle boots, Priss wasn't that much of a speedster. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, however, as the biker's hands swished dangerously close to her head, as Priss attempted to grab her by the head and step on it.

"Dammit, Nene! I haven't owned a dress since I was in grade school!" Priss shouted, diving at the blonde and tackling her to the floor. Clattering to the floor yet again in a tangle of limbs, Priss grabbed Nene by the collar again, and shook the little girl like a maraca. "This time, your ass is really grass! I hope the AD Police has a good dental plan," Priss shouted as Nene tried to pull her head into her shoulders like a turtle.

"I don't know, Priss. All jokes aside, you'd look great if we found the right dress," Linna said thoughtfully, brushing back a strand of hair as she turned about, elbows resting on the back of the couch. "I mean, you've definitely got the figure for it. Maybe Sylia has something you can borrow."

"Eh?" Priss dropped Nene again, who returned to the floor for the third time that day with a dull thud. Wisely, Nene decided to stay quiet, and rub her bruised head. Mad boomers nothing, what they needed was a way to stop a mad Priss. "But I hate dresses. They always get in the way, and those stupid shoes hurt my feet," Priss countered uncertainly. Linna could usually be counted on to make Priss reconsider things, due to the guiless way she said them. It confused the hell out of Priss how anyone so genuinely nice and innocent could live in Megalos city, but stranger shit had happened.

"What do you need a dress for, anyhow?" Linna asked, tilting her head with a smile as Nene scampered to the safe side of the room, being the side that had the least amount of Priss in it.

"Leon's taking Priss somewhere formal. Sounds serious," tittered Nene lightly, who abruptly covered her mouth, and ducked behind the couch as Priss shot her a withering glare. "Sorry! Sorry!"

Letting out a loud sigh, Priss walked over to a convenient chair near the computer terminal ,and slumped down into the seat, her leather gear creaking slightly. "I thought we were just going for a quick bite, and maybe a ride. Am I out of it or what?" Reaching to the floor where her phone had tumbled, Priss looked it over, and flipped open the cover. "Maybe I'll just call him back and fix things."

"Well, whatever you want," Linna said, turning back to the television. "Personally, I bet Leon's jaw would hit the floor if he saw you in something nice."

"You think so?"

"Leon-poo's jaw already drops when you just wear whatever you're wearing now," Nene said with a roll of her eyes. "The boy's so helpless. Maybe it's best you don't wear one. You might end up killing him. I can see the scandals in the paper: AD Police Detective killed by loss of blood. Nosebleed caused by nightclub singer in strapless gown."

"I guess one night couldn't hurt," mumbled Priss, who looked up at the incredulous stares of her teammates. "What?" Her voice wavered towards threatening as she narrowed her eyes at Linna and Nene, who both put up their hands and waved them dismissively.

"Nothing! Nothing!" They both chanted, nervously, and coughed once.

"Anyhow, let's see if Sylia has anything that fits you," decided Linna, who stood up, walking towards Sylia's closets in the backroom, Nene in tow. Priss reluctantly got up, uncoiling herself from the chair like a tired cat.

You had better like this, Leon, she thought to herself, or criminals will be the least of your worries.

"There. You look fantastic," Daley said as he stepped back, nodding once. Folding his arms in satisfaction, he tilted his head.

"I look like a monkey." Leon peered at himself in the mirror in the AD Police locker room, adjusting the tie about his neck. "A monkey with a noose. Remind me again how you talked me into this?" His brow furrowed, "And why did you have a suit in my size sitting in your locker?"

"First of all, trust me, chicks flip for monkeys," replied the other officer, brushing off a lint ball from the black sports jacket that Leon wore. The man had a big, impressive frame, and he looked rather good in a suit, despite his penchant for more comfortable clothing, and despite the irritated frown on his face, he looked dressed to kill, or at least severely maim. "Secondly, I had it sitting around because it's yours."

"Why the hell do you have my clothes in your locker?" Leon turned about, shouting in his partner's face. Daley closed his eyes, and dabbed a bit of Leon's spittle from his glasses with a convenient hankercheif, and recomposed himself.

"Remember that mandatory awards banquet last year? You snuck out early, and asked if you could stow your 'monkey suit' in my locker, because yours smelled like socks and that raunchy old leather jacket you always wear."


"Anyhow, I had it fixed up for you, did some alterations myself, thank you very much. It fits you much better now, doesn't it?" The less macho AD officer nodded, as if appreciating the triumph in his own handiwork. "And if you ask why, it's because I care, and you don't have to read anything into that, either."

"Ugh. Anyhow, you still haven't explained to me why I'm doing this. I thought I'd just take her out for a burger, and go riding with her a bit," Leon said, running his fingers through his black hair, peering at his own face. Nah, he didn't look that bad, actually, but still. Shaking off the excess energy he seemed to have, he rotated his shoulders, and tugged at the tie again. He felt like he was going to the prom or something. Did women actually go for this zoot suit crap?

"Well, it's great and all that you get along with her, but you should show her that you think she's something to be treasured. You know, that she's that special someone. Dazzle her. Amaze her. Show her that you're sensitive and caring," crowed Daley ,spreading his arms wide. "Trust me. She'll wonder where you've been all her life."

"She'll wonder if I need to be committed. Daley, Priss isn't like that. She's the kind of girl that thinks microwaved pizza is a delicacy," replied the bewildered man with a sigh, still looking at himself critically, deciding that this was probably not his best judgement call.

"So much the better. She'll love something more fancy that reheated rubbery cheese covered cardboard. A nice dinner and some music. You do know how to dance, don't you?"

"Nobody said anything about dancing!"

"You're dating a musician, and you.. never mind. I don't have time to teach you anything. Now get moving. You're going to be late," said Daley as he pushed Leon out of the locker room, and down the hall, despite protests. As he stumbled by, he noticed he actually managed to turn the heads of some of the nicer looking female officers wandering the halls, who gave him appraising smiles as Daley shoved them past. Leon smiled nervously at them, and waved slightly.

Okay.. so maybe Daley's right, women like guys in suits, but still, I don't... His train of thought was broken as Daley shoved Leon in front of the souped up patrol car they drove. Tossing the keys at him, Daley smirked and nodded once, narrowing his eyes.

"Go get her, champ. Make me proud, and tell me every sordid detail when you get back."


"Love you, too, man."

"Christ Daley, don't even kid," Leon replied with a half smirk on his face, and tossed off a short boy scout style salute as he pulled out of the lot. "What in the hell have I gotten myself into?" He wondered, and shook his head as he pulled out onto the highway towards the Silky Doll.

"Oh my," Sylia said, as she placed a hand over her chest. "It would seem that you cut a striking figure in this one."

"It's a little snug around the waist," Priss griped, looking at herself in the mirror, her eyebrows knitting as her friends stood behind her, peering at her image. Despite the fact that all of them were smiling, somehow Priss felt that it was all at her expense.

Sylia had gladly opened up her vast stores of clothing for Priss's use, despite her protests to try on so many. After a lot of arguing, griping, and death threats, they had decided that basic black would probably be the best idea, since it was the only color that she would voluntarily wear. If these girls spent half the time they did worrying about how they looked compared to the amount of training they did to wear their hardsuits, I wouldn't have had to always be the one beating the crap out of boomers and guys in battlesuits, Priss thought morosely as she swept some hair behind her ears.

The dress she wore was decidedly simple. It was strapless, showing off her pale shoulders and slender neck, with a tasteful but still alluring cut. It fit her body snugly, showing off her fine athletes frame, and sported a slit up the side that very nearly reached her hip, much to Priss's irritation. The damn thing was so drafty. As she had thought, the shoes she had to wear were irritating, and pinched her toes slightly. Sporting the lowest heels that Sylia could find to match the dress, they were an open-toed affair, with a good three inch spike. Muttering, she turned her head this way and that. Her choker necklace had been allowed to stay, but Linna insisted on making her wear earrings that dangled, and Nene had put her hair up. It itched a bit, and was held into place with two long needles. Priss felt like stabbing someone with them.

"I look like some society rich bitch," she grumped, and Sylia cleared her throat. "Sorry."

"I'm jealous," said Linna, looking Priss over, "I could never pull something like that off. I don't have the hips for it." Linna groused more to herself than anyone else.

"Hold still," Nene said, balancing on the stepstool to play with Priss's hair, "I'm not all done yet." Her tongue peeking out the side of her mouth in concentration, she expertly performed her duty as a hairdresser for the evening as Sylia looked on with approval.

"We'll turn you into a socialite yet, Miss Asagiri," Sylia purred, looking over Priss's shoulder at the darker haired Knight Saber's reflection. "Looking like this, Mr. McNichol may not want to let you go back home, hmm? Are you 'prepared' for that?" Amusement danced in Sylia's eyes as Priss rolled hers, and muttered.

"What is this? My graduation party? Get the hell away from me. I'm getting out of this straightjacket getup. Where the hell are my pants?" Priss fumed, shoving people out of her way, and stomping out of Sylia's private dressing room, headed for the foyer. Cursing all the way, she tossed the purse that she had been given in front of her out of the doorway, and heard an 'ow'. Pausing, she blinked for a moment, and stuck her head into the foyer from the doorway, and looked for the purse.

Standing in the lounge was Leon, rubbing his nose, with Priss's purse in his hands.

-To be... yadda yadda yadda.