Page 32 of Gunslinger Girl
CHAPTER 10
Late in the afternoon, a porter appeared at her bedroom door with a note.
Sorry, it read, a smudge of paint in one corner, busy with the sets. Will see you tonight before the show. —Max
P.S. REALLY sorry about Luster and the others—I told them to go easy on you.
Like the meeting with Halcyon—who had instructed her on when to return to the theatre and little else—the note left her with more questions than it answered. She pondered it as she dressed. At some point during her absence, the contents of her wardrobe had doubled. She chose an outfit from the new arrivals: a gray skirt and a black jacket that buttoned up the front, then brushed the braid out of her hair, letting it hang in waves around her shoulders.
There was a knock on the door. When she opened it, Luster, Garland, and Duchess swept into the room.
Pity didn’t bother with pleasantries. “What are you gonna do to me?” she said. “And is there any way I can avoid it?”
“Not. A. One,” Duchess said. “Aw, doesn’t she look like a cornered kitten? I love it.”
“Relaaaax,” Luster purred. “We’re here to help you get dressed for tonight.”
“What’s wrong with this?”
“Um, no.” Duchess scoffed. “While, admittedly, a night at the Theatre demands something a bit more conservative than what some of us are used to”—black pants and a glittering silver shirt had replaced his outfit from the evening before—“it doesn’t mean you dress like a schoolteacher on her day off.”
“I do not look like a schoolteacher!”
“Not yet.” Garland moved around behind her. She froze as he gathered her hair and twisted it into a bun on the top of her head. The touch sent shivers down the back of her neck. “But now you do. Oh, don’t scowl like that.”
Her face burned. She tried to protest, but being so close to Garland turned every objection sideways in her throat.
Luster came to her rescue. “Leave her be. Let’s see what else we can find.” She rooted through the wardrobe, pulling out bits of clothing and tossing them to the floor. “No, no, nope, hell nope, and bingo! Here we go!”
Pity’s stomach dropped. “That’s not really my—”
“No arguments.” Duchess snatched the dress from Luster and pressed it on her.
“Fine. I’ll try it on.” She clutched the frighteningly small wisp of fabric.
“Good,” said Luster. “Then we can get started on the rest of it.”
“The rest of what?” Pity squeaked.
Half an hour later, Luster dabbed on a last bit of powder. “There. What do you think?”
“I’m…” A doppelgänger stared at Pity from the bathroom mirror. When she ran a hand down the front of the dress, the reflection did the same. Evergreen in color, it hung to her knees and sparkled faintly. Silk, she thought. It would have taken me ages to save enough to buy a yard of fabric this nice. Pity was certain she wasn’t the first owner of the dress, but even if it had been torn and faded it would have been nicer than anything she had ever worn before. Around her bare shoulders her hair still hung loose, but now her eyes were rimmed with black, her lips stained berry-red. “I’m cold.”
“I can fix that.” Luster pranced out of the bathroom.
Pity wobbled as far as the doorframe before stopping, unsure she could take another step. Neither the heeled shoes she wore nor her resolve felt particularly steady. But it was too late. Garland and Duchess had seen her.
“Better,” admitted Duchess.
“Perfect,” said Garland. He grabbed her hands and pulled her back into the bedroom.
She stumbled forward. “I don’t know…”
“No, he’s right.”
For a moment, Pity didn’t recognize Max, leaning against the open door to the hall. His paint-splattered clothes had been swapped for a tailored black jacket with a gold collar and matching pants, an ensemble that fit him like a second skin. When he gave her a languorous smile, Pity’s stomach tightened. She forgot Garland was holding her hands until he released them, stepping away.
“See?” he said. “If Max can dress the part of the rich elite, so can you.”
