#glamiarty

She doesn't answer. Instead, she frowns at the mirror, then slips out of the red dress and tries on another.

Glamiarty flings up his arms and begins giggling madly. “Darling! Are you taking a turn for the femme? Turn and face the strange!”

After a long silence, he says, “Well, at least it's good to see your hair back to normal. Approximately. And in the dresses you're a total blam-blam, without being too flashy. I approve.” 

She says nothing, but he seems to enjoy monologuing. “I swear, for a few shows there, you were trying to upstage me. You got your head all tangled up, and forgot that nobody outglams Glamiarty.”

“Well.” Her voice is even. “You were the one who invited me to try things on in your dressing room.”

“Well, yes,” Glamiarty admits with a smirk. “ButI only did so because your first few experiments were so … darling.”

  “I got better.”

He smirks. “Don't let the milk float ride your mind.”

She frowns. “I don't think even you know what you're saying half the time.” Glamiarty giggles.

“And then you made me wear that bag,” she continues.

He heaves a dramatic sigh and doesn't respond directly. “Remember, dearest, back at the beginning? When you were just a backup singer? When you would tell me, 'I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you'?”

“I don't believe I ever used those words.”

And then you changed your tune, your hair, your style – you glammed up, and you would squawk like a pink monkey bird and attract all the attention.”

“If you say so.”

“It would be lovely to go back to those days, wouldn't it. To have you remember that I'm the alligator. I'm the mama-papa. Know what I mean?”

“Certainly not,” she sniffs.

He ignores her. “And if you want to wear a dress this time, that's fine. Just fine.”

“It's not for you,” she says finally.

“Oho?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Do you have a new paramour?” He snaps his fingers and skips forward excitedly. “Lay the real thing on me! Tell Daddy all the details!”

“Nobody new. I'm going to see The Woman. She was always particularly fond of me in a dress.”

“Ah, The Woman. She's touring with that horrifically dressed fellow – John something? Something John? -- now, isn't she? One look at him and all the knives seem to lacerate your brain.”

He tsks, then sobers and strikes a final pose to emphasize his next words.

“I have a mission for you, then...”

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This one is partly marsdaydream's fault, and partly Tilda's for being so fab that I had to cast her as Moran.  Any Bowie-related errors (or other errors) are all my fault, though. :)