She’s given up trying to keep the girl out of her closet ( & honestly, the smile on her face was totally worth it – questionable fashion choices & all, though she won’t admit to it. ) Allison sits with her legs crossed, only half paying attention to which clothes get a nod of approval & which get that small sound she’s now associated with her disapproval. Oh but she really should have been watching more closely, because she’s now holding a top she recalls buying a while back, more on impulse than anything. ❛ Isn’t that a bit much? I mean, tonight’s not even a big deal. What’s wrong with what I had set aside? ❜ & brows are raised, a mock expression of hurt coloring pale features, though she can’t help the amused smile that she’s fighting to bite back – revealed by the small quirk of her lips.
“If you think that’s too much, then I HATE to be the one to tell you that you’re completely && totally wrong.” How could she even say such a thing ?? The top was BARELY dressy -- just verging on cocktail chic ( not that they were going out for cocktails -- but the dress code was appropriate for a DATE NIGHT ). “You’re putting it on, Allison,” she commands, crossing lithe arms across her chest. “EVERYTHING is wrong with what you picked out -- I mean, that’s BASICALLY a t-shirt. You can’t wear a t-shirt on a DATE !!”