[ Pigtails aren't abnormal for a sixteen-year-old, but she's not trying to look her age. She wants to be mature and dependable, but still sexy and cool, but also someone Mister Makima can flirt with when nobody's watching because she's just that irresistible to him. She wants to rock badass steel arms at work, then share a nice dessert with the guy she likes. She wants to look like she has the whole package.
…Which she's loathe to admit, in a way, means that she wants to look a little more like Aki. Is that too much to ask? ]
If I don't cut it, nobody else will unless I cough up some serious dough, [ she hollers back through the open door, snapping an elastic around one cinched part of her hair before moving on to the next. Appearing to miss the point that, if she wants to change how she presents, it may need a little more investment on her end. One that doesn't involve saving up to eat a bunch of beef cutlets.
Denji stares at herself in the mirror, hands curled around the edges of the sink as she leans forward to examine her face. Her hair is whatever, but her skin's creamier at least, the unevenness around her nose and cheeks neutralized by the pigment of the concealer. She can't even make out the pimple.
But despite her satisfaction, she doesn't come out yet. Rather, she shuts the door, turning to look back at the garment bag she'd so happened left inside the bathroom earlier. Unzipping it bares open a silky sheer negligee that Denji immediately smooths a hand over to iron out any wrinkles and gnarls visible to her eye, from the lace bodice to the cool, watery material of the skirt. Being from the closet of a pop idol, it's rather tame in design, though no less luxurious.
To Denji, though, it's nothing more than a beautiful dress.
After about ten minutes, she leaps out of the bathroom with uncontainable excitement, her hands planted at her hips and the hem of her skirt fluttering like a superhero's cape. It should be noted that the chest of the outfit is slightly sagging down Denji's chest from a lack of mass to fill the cups in. ]
Ba-bada-duuum! Hey, hey, hey, so whaddaya think? [ She glances down herself, sheepishly, fiddling with the cord of her starter, trying to keep it from crosswiring with the trusses of the outfit. ] This'll knock Makima right off his feet, yeah?!
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…Which she's loathe to admit, in a way, means that she wants to look a little more like Aki. Is that too much to ask? ]
If I don't cut it, nobody else will unless I cough up some serious dough, [ she hollers back through the open door, snapping an elastic around one cinched part of her hair before moving on to the next. Appearing to miss the point that, if she wants to change how she presents, it may need a little more investment on her end. One that doesn't involve saving up to eat a bunch of beef cutlets.
Denji stares at herself in the mirror, hands curled around the edges of the sink as she leans forward to examine her face. Her hair is whatever, but her skin's creamier at least, the unevenness around her nose and cheeks neutralized by the pigment of the concealer. She can't even make out the pimple.
But despite her satisfaction, she doesn't come out yet. Rather, she shuts the door, turning to look back at the garment bag she'd so happened left inside the bathroom earlier. Unzipping it bares open a silky sheer negligee that Denji immediately smooths a hand over to iron out any wrinkles and gnarls visible to her eye, from the lace bodice to the cool, watery material of the skirt. Being from the closet of a pop idol, it's rather tame in design, though no less luxurious.
To Denji, though, it's nothing more than a beautiful dress.
After about ten minutes, she leaps out of the bathroom with uncontainable excitement, her hands planted at her hips and the hem of her skirt fluttering like a superhero's cape. It should be noted that the chest of the outfit is slightly sagging down Denji's chest from a lack of mass to fill the cups in. ]
Ba-bada-duuum! Hey, hey, hey, so whaddaya think? [ She glances down herself, sheepishly, fiddling with the cord of her starter, trying to keep it from crosswiring with the trusses of the outfit. ] This'll knock Makima right off his feet, yeah?!