(no subject)

[poison-by-name.livejournal.com]

[Laughing hysterically at something you said.]

Comments

[notquiet.livejournal.com]

You look excellent.

[poison-by-name.livejournal.com]

... Do you really think so?

[She sighs again, taking the dress off as fast as possible.]

It doesn't even matter. I mean, I won't be able to wear it soon, so...

[notquiet.livejournal.com]

Yeah.

[She's changing, so he turns out of respect again.]

You won't? Why is that?

[poison-by-name.livejournal.com]

I'm pregnant. You can't see it yet, but I am.

[She cocks an eyebrow.]

You don't have to turn around, you know?

[notquiet.livejournal.com]

Oh, well congrats.

I don't? Right. I think I'll go as Tarzan.

[poison-by-name.livejournal.com]

If you want... You would look good as either.

[Her mood's dropped through the floor.]

You don't think I'm pretty anymore, do you?

[notquiet.livejournal.com]

Tarzan it is.

[He blinks, her mood had changed. He studies her, and frowns.]

I still think you're pretty. So you've got a bun in the oven, it's all good. Why does my opinion matter anyways?

[poison-by-name.livejournal.com]

Because you're my friend. And because I thought you were hot.

[She might as well get it out there. It doesn't matter anymore.]

[notquiet.livejournal.com]

You look hot in your dress, and still attractive pregnant. I swear.

[poison-by-name.livejournal.com]

Prove it.

[She's blunt, but only because she's embarrassed now.]

[notquiet.livejournal.com]

Prove what?

[poison-by-name.livejournal.com]

Prove that you think I'm pretty.