val3ri3-lov3s-vodquila:
“Xy!” Valerie whines like a petulant child. “You’re gonna wrinkle the skirt for the tree!” She pouts, looking at the piece of fabric that was still uncovered by Xyla’s body. However, she still grins at the sight of her friend that she knows would always come running whenever she needs her. “Besides, have you ever known me to not have wine? I feel like you’re starting to forget the type of person I am.” She says with a dramatic sigh.
“We can iron it, or steam it, or whatever. Plus it’s going to be hidden by all the presents I’m sure are already hiding away in your closet, so it’s not like anyone will even see it,” Xyla said, waving off Valerie’s worries. Sitting up, she pulled the skirt from under her and tossed it with the pile or ornaments sitting on the floor. “See, now that’s why you’re my girl,” she grinned, setting her bag down on the couch and shrugging her coat off. “If we’re gonna do this, we need to be substantially wine drunk and be blasting Michael Buble Christmas tunes. If not, I’m out of here.”
Xyla was, as usual, right. Valerie was gonna bury the skirt in presents, so making it look less wrinkly was a waste. But still, the aesthetic. Valerie watched as she pulled the skirt out from under her before tossing it with all the other miscellaneous decorations. At the suggestion, she smiles at her friend. "That is the best way to decorate. Hopefully the neighbors won't call the landlord on me again for blasting my Christmas jams. I swear half this floor is occupied by Scrooges"
