Izzy and Luna were long since finished, bid on, and enjoying their night, drinks a plenty and music pumping. She had come up to her friend, drink in hand to offer her with a smile. She’d recently went into the bathroom to confirm that she was secure enough to dance in the dress— not that Izzy ever lacked self-confidence (or let it show that she wasn’t) but rather, that she didn’t move out of her dress and into a whole Hell of a lot of problems with the PTA mothers, who were already eyeing her from the sidelines. Izzy liked the idea that they were jealous, at least a little bit, even if they were mostly pissed it was a school sponsored event and the Club was there and there were women dressed like her. But she disregarded them as she eyes Luna with a smile. “Well, we made it. We’ve been bought and sold and now— I think I owe you a toast because damn, that dress was a perfect choice. And your makeup? Who the Hell did that? So talented,” she giggles since it was her own work.