A 3 x100 word triabble by Amberdreams, Dizzo and Edina Clouds (not necessarily in that order)
E/O Challenge word = label: triabble word = wear
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I watch the mysterious stranger as he mingles among the genteel gathering.
His silky black tuxedo, sits comfortably over broad shoulders; its clean lines and perfect fit flowing like water over the silhouette of a strong, tapering back.
Sharp black pants accentuate his long legs and complete this picture of sartorial perfection.
However, he's painfully ill at ease; no amount of fine labels or classic tailoring can hide his excruciating self-consciousness.
Whoever is this man who looks like he was made to wear a tuxedo, but has clearly never been anywhere near one?
I have every intention of finding out.
Dean rubs the back of his neck, tugging at his too-tight, too-stiff collar, fiddling with the label of the tux he's wearing (under protest). He glares at Sam's broad oblivious back as little brother waves his champagne at the well-endowed middle-aged sex-siren, who's clearly taken a fancy to Sam's shaggy-assed elegance.
Freaking typical. All Dean's managed to attract is the disapproval of the stuck-up wine-waiter, having asked for a beer.
Three different kinds of fancy wine and this joint can't even rustle up a Sol. What kind of half-assed party is this anyway?
Sooner they find this shifter the better.
I could tell he was a hunter the moment I saw him; it was so obvious he might as well have been wearing a label.
And I could tell he hadn't spotted me – not yet at least. But it wouldn't take him long to figure it out; he'd be looking for me in my existing shifter form.
I had to admire his physique; the tall, slender body; the handsome face; the piercing green eyes.
It was time to change my appearance; time to shed my skin; time to look like him.
So when he walked from the room I followed.