rowan & dahlia | weight of the world gone wrong
“…are you wearing a dress?”
“don’t. say. anything. i know i look ridiculous.”
“you don’t look ridiculous, dahl. i just didn’t think you owned a dr — “
“i’m taking it off. i’m taking it off right now.”
“don’t let me stop you. but seriously, what’s the deal with the dress?”
“i thought if i put one on i’d get what the big deal is all about, but i don’t. i’m stumped. color me a dunce and shove me in the corner with the other pointy hatted losers, because all i get is that this thing is a death trap. no wonder so many girls are getting killed in dark alleys! they put these monstrosities on to impress men, and then the men lead them down dark alleys, and they can’t defend themselves because they can’t even move. forget the hellmouth, this thing is pure evil.”
“did you get that dress because i was making fun of you this morning?”
“i have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“because while it is a universally known fact that most men respond positively to women in pretty dresses, you didn’t have to go out and get one in order to impress me.”
“you’re awfully full of yourself, rowan, you know that?”
“all right. but for the record? i prefer the leather pants.”
