Sam

Will asked Buck about Dawn since she didn't seem to have arrived with the second group. Buck explained with an unhappy pout that he had invited her along as his date, but that she had turned him down quite firmly.

"Might be for the best," said Francine—the leader of Buck's green-cloaked bodyguards—standing at his shoulder. "The journey would have been hard on her, and I'm sure she wouldn't have had much fun in her condition."

Buck heaved a wistful sigh, still nursing that hangdog look that fit his face so badly. "Maybe. I just hope I haven't hurt her feelings somehow. She laid into me pretty good before I left."

"Condolences, my lord," Will said with a sardonic smirk.

"Maybe she just doesn't think of you the same way you think of her," Francine suggested. "After all, one can't help but question her taste in men considering she went and married Brimstone of all people—although, of course one cannot deny the resemblance between them."

"Don't speak badly of her," Buck said, whipping around to face his bodyguard with unusual intensity in his eyes. "Really, Frankie, I thought you were better than this. Dawn's recovering from all this terrible stuff—the last thing she needs is a friend talking shit behind her back."

Francine's smug grin dropped in an instant, replaced by blank-faced shock, and she held up her palms defensively. "No, I didn't mean it like that, I was just—"

"How did you mean it?"

"I…"

Sam didn't feel as though it was really appropriate to be listening in on what was turning into an increasingly heated dressing-down, so she took Sunny and Will and dragged them off elsewhere.

The situation seemed pretty clear to her. Francine obviously had more than a little bit of a crush on Buck, and until recently she had been able to share his bed frequently due to his legendary promiscuity. But now Buck had gone and developed a bit of puppy love himself, and Francince was left out in the rain watching Brimstone's ex-wife soak up all the attention she wanted.

I wouldn't be surprised if that's a big part of why she's taken such a dislike to me and Will. Maybe she blames us all for Buck changing up on her.

"Thoughts on that?" Will asked as they made their way back toward the party supply wagons.

"She's clearly jealous," Sam replied. "Why?"

"What do you think about her in general? What sort of vibe do you get?"

"I think she's a massive cunt."

"Mmm." Will sounded thoughtful. "Dangerous, you think?"

"Uhh…" Sam climbed up on the back of the wagon and began rooting through the rainbow mess of colorful clothing spilling out of opened boxes. The big poofy jacket she had found was fun, but she had decided that she wanted to wear something actually nice. "Dunno, really," she called while tossing garments around. "I mean, she did kind of threaten us both, so."

"You were the one picking that fight if I remember correctly," Will said from down on the ground.

"Well, she was saying nasty shit about you, so same difference. She was baiting me into it."

"Maybe."

"Why are we talking about this bitch again?"

"Just trying to figure out if I'm gonna need to slit her throat at some point."

"You don't have to worry about that kind of thing anymore, remember?" She discarded a hideous snot-green blouse, thought better of a camisole with pretty little bows on the sleeves that looked a little too sheer when she gave it a second look. "If she gets out of line, I'll smack some manners into her, okay?"

Will laughed indulgently. "All right, Sam. I'll let you know if I notice anyone who needs a good smack or two."

Finally, she found something she liked—a floral-patterned sundress that looked like it miiight be just big enough to fit her. Will asked for her help to get onto the wagon on account of his injuries, and she lifted him up under his armpits like a little kid. He handled the indignity with an admirable amount of grace, and once he was deposited amid the boxes he immediately began digging through one of them, producing a pair of flats that would go well with the dress. Evidently, he had noticed them with that magic space wizard vision of his.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Show-off," Sam muttered, but took the shoes gratefully.

Finally, she managed to fish out a nice black choker to complete the ensemble and skipped off to change in their room. However, fate was decidedly not on her side because the dress was a good bit too small, and there was no way she'd be squeezing into it without popping a few seams. She told Will, who was waiting outside the room to make sure nobody walked in, but he didn't sound particularly concerned by the whole thing.

"That shouldn't be a problem," he said. "We've got an Artisan at the party who specializes in clothing. If you wouldn't mind, I could send her in to Tailor the dress so it fits you properly."

"Really?"

"Worth the ask at least, isn't it?"

So he did that. The lady was older. Her name was Jannike. Apparently Will had saved her life back when everything had gone down in the city. She pulled out the dress a bit at the shoulders and chest, then had her get in it so she could do a few more minute alterations. The whole time, Jannike was gossiping about all sorts of things, hardly ever sticking to one topic for more than thirty seconds before flitting to the next.

"He's such a sweet boy," the aged Artisan said while putting on the finishing touches.

Sam knew at once who she was talking about. "Yeahhh, he's a real cutie."

"I was surprised. I'd heard the stories before meeting him, of course."

"I guess people hate him pretty bad."

"I used to as well. Now I know better. He's a good, good boy. He just hides it well."

Sam grinned at the woman fussing at her shoulder. "I'm really happy you think so."

"You're lucky to have him, sweetheart. Don't let him stand on his own."

"I won't—I promise."

Jannike finished and Sam went to pick up a hand mirror from the dresser to check the results, but the old woman held her back with a chuckle. "Oh, you won't be needing that. Here: Reflection."

At that, a reflective surface the length of a full-body mirror appeared in the air before Sam—a silvery sheet tinged with sparkling blue at the edges—which allowed her to get a good look at herself.

She'd been talking a big game all day with her new points in Appeal and everything, but now that she was actually staring herself down in the type of girly clothes she never ever wore, she felt a surge of cold nerves shooting through her stomach.

"I really don't suit this sort of thing, do I?" she asked no one in particular, picking at the chest of the sundress to get the cleavage sitting right. She wasn't used to having a pair of actual boobs to wrangle, and they were deciding to be evil with her now.

The whole picture just looked… off. Her shoulders were too bulky to suit a dress, and her frame was too boxy so the fabric didn't settle right around her waist and hips, and her neck was too thick for the choker to work, and the boobs were nice and all but they just didn't go with the rest of her, like they were meant to be on somebody else.

Sensing her stress, Jannike came to stand behind Sam and put her hands on Sam's shoulders, rubbing small circles with her thumbs. "Let's see what your boy has to say about it, hmm?"

"Wait, don't—"

Jannike dispelled the mirror she had created with a dismissive wave of her hand and turned toward the door. "Mr. Greene! She's ready for you now!"

"No, I'm not—"

The door came open and Will walked in. He'd changed his clothes too, now wearing a loose, cream-colored blouse with rolled-up sleeves and a V-shaped neckline showing off some of his well-sculpted chest, along with a pair of tight-ish dark trousers and supple leather boots. The feather boa was gone, and he had folded his shades to hang from one pants pocket.

"You look gorgeous," he said instantly before she could get a word in. She was fidgeting with the hem of her dress and not quite meeting his eye when he was suddenly across the room, a hand wrapped around the small of her back and lips pressed against hers.

That kiss hit like cocaine. She shut her eyes and leaned into it, hoping it would never end.

When they broke away, Jannike was looking between them with a mischievous grin. Will did not have the decency to look ashamed over the public display of affection, simply giving the old woman a small nod in acknowledgement of her work. Sam, meanwhile, felt like her cheeks were about to melt down her face from how badly she was blushing.

"Here," Jannike said, holding out a slightly crinkled slip of paper to Will. "Thought you might like a memory of this."

Sam pulled Will close so she could see what was on the paper. "A photo," she said, shocked. However that was possible. It showed the two of them kissing. Looking like a couple. Not best friends goofing off—man and woman, straight up. She gaped a silent question at the old Artisan, who just returned a shrewd little chuckle and walked out the door.

"She used Imprint to make it," Will explained. "Clever old witch."

"Do you really think I look nice?" Sam asked, not wanting to let go of him. "You didn't even look at me properly before you said that."

"I was peeking."

"Oh. Space vision."

"Mmhmm."

"Pervert!"

Will laughed—a more genuine sound than she had heard from him in a long time, free from the weight-of-the-world weariness that usually permeated every part of his outward persona—and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Guilty, I suppose. Can you blame me?"

"Heh."

Sam allowed herself to soak up some of the praise. Despite her misgivings, she had to admit that the photo of the two of them just looked right, somehow.

Maybe I can pull off a dress after all. Maybe I am a hot little piece of ass.

"Stop that," Will said, pulling her out of her thoughts by tugging playfully on her earlobe.

"What?"

"You're thinking something obscene."

"Am not!"

"Liar."

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