#lynessa

But now this dress of hers - the red one with the velvet trim that matched her faux-feather boa - was too tight to squeeze into.  It wasn’t that Lynessa took issue with having extra curves.  She never had been very self-conscious growing up.  She had always been doted upon constantly by others, regardless of her shape or size.  But she never had any issue fitting into custom-made clothing since she passed the growing pains of puberty.  Now here she was, hobbling around her room as she attempted to pull the dress up past her hips.  

“DARON!” she shouted out, attempting to call out to the tailor she shared her shop with.  No response.  Of course, she might have received one had she actually called out his real name - Damon - instead of a different name.  Daron… Dylan… Dustin… Dawson… she could never be bothered to remember his name, and thus she called him a variety of similar ones - never listening when he corrected her with his actual name.  Not that it would have mattered anyway.  In the next room, Damon very clearly heard her calling for assistance. He ducked his head down, trying to focus more on his sewing and less on the increasingly demanding yelling coming from the back room. Days like this made him wonder why he ever let Lyn talk him into sharing a shop space with her.

After several impatient shouts for assistance, Lyn gave up, huffing as she struggled to remove the dress.  

“Stupid stupid, thing!” she grumbled to herself. She managed to squeeze out of the dress, letting it fall to her feet before kicking it across the room.  She plopped down in her chair, crossing her arms and sulking as she stared at herself in the mirror.   Maybe the corset wasn’t tight enough?  Or maybe the dress had shrunk?  

That was it!  Shrunk!  She let out deep sigh of relief as she warmed up to that conclusion.  It had been washed since she last wore it, and certainly it must have been mishandled during the process.  There was no way she could have gained so much weight in so little time, after all!  Now who had she entrusted with her clothing last time she sent it off to the apartments to be laundered?  She sat back, clicking her lengthy nails against the arm of the chair as she tried to remember.

Right - Feint!  She now recalled asking him if he would be a dear and take care of her clothes about a week ago.  Well… at least that’s how Lyn remembered it.  If she were pushed for details, she would be hard pressed to deny that she might have been just a tad demanding when she made the request.  And perhaps she treated him more like her butler in the process and less like a friend who was doing her a favor.  But she would argue it only meant she felt that comfortable with him to not deal with such pleasantries!

She grabbed another dress, unzipping the back and stepping into it.  As she attempted to get it up past her thighs, she found it was too tight of a squeeze - much like the other outfit.  She growled, not even attempting to move it much further this time.  All her dresses that were cleaned must have been ruined in such a fashion!  

Instead of doing the sensible thing and putting on something that she had worn more recently that would obviously fit her, she stomped out of the dressing room wearing nothing but her corset, stockings, and high heels.  She passed by Damon on the way out, not even bothering to acknowledge his presence.  He glanced over at her for a brief moment before letting out a horrified squeak and covering his eyes.

“M-Miss Lynessa! Y-you-you can’t j-just-!” he babbled, face red with embarrassment.  Lyn didn’t seem to hear him as she headed out the door.  Truthfully, she hadn’t ignored him this time.  She was on a warpath and everyone between her and the Atomic Sonnet camp might as well have been in a different dimension.

She garnered quite a few stares from the Slog residents as she made her way to the edge of the settlement.  It didn’t take too long to locate Feint once she arrived.  A couple of snickers from the performers could be heard as they whispered about Lyn’s current attire and demeanor.  They had all dealt with her before and seeing such a spoiled brat look so angry was far too funny to hold in.

Feint looked up from where he was busy helping Kendra build one of her sets.  

“Ah, Miss Lenore!  How kind of you to visit us!  I’m afraid you missed auditions by about a week, however - the part of the burlesque dancer has already been cast!” he quipped in an amused tone.  

“Feint - who in the hell did you have wash my clothes?!” Lyn demanded, face almost as red as her shrunken dress.  

Feint looked down apologetically at Kendra, making a few gestures with his hands to let her know it was time for a break.  Kendra nodded, getting up and dusting off her clothes before retreating behind the stage for refreshments.  

“Why do you ask?” he wondered, after ensuring Kendra was out of earshot.  

“Because they all shrunk!  Someone ruined all my best outfits!”

Feint lowered his glasses for a few seconds, a gleam appearing in his golden eyes for just a brief moment before disappearing as quickly as it came.

“I can ensure you that your outfits didn’t shrink, my dear Lynessa,” he replied.

“A-are you implying I outgrew them?!” Lyn clenched her fists so tightly, she could feel her nails digging into her palms.

“I’m implying nothing.  I’m simply stating a fact - that your outfits were not the result of mismanaged washing.”

Lyn sank down to her knees, pulling at her hair in frustration.  She let tears fall freely as she began her tantrum.  

“Then it’s over… I’m a Brahmin, that’s what I am!” she sobbed.  "How could I have let myself go?  Is this what I get for eating at the Dive so carelessly?“

Feint knelt down next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.  "No, but it is what you get for letting your pride control you in such a matter.”

“What do you know! You don’t have to try at all to be beautiful!  It’s a curse!”

Feint chuckled at her claim, a noise that received a sharp glare from her.  "Lynessa… you haven’t gained weight.  And even if you did, it’s not the end of the world!  You let your vanity control you far too much for your own good.“

Lyn rubbed tears away from her puffy eyes, mascara streaked down her face.  "What do you mean…?” she sniffled.  

“I replaced your dresses with smaller ones as a prank!” Feint explained.  Lyn’s sniveling instantly ceased as she narrowed her eyes and gave Feint a deadpan expression.

“You what?”

“Replaced your dresses.  With smaller ones,” he repeated, a charming grin stretched across his face.  "Well, only a few of them, really.  The original ones are safely tucked away in my room.“

Lyn’s nostrils flared as she reached out and grabbed hold of Feint’s shirt, tugging him close to her.  "I could kill you right now,” she growled.  "Why would you traumatize me like that?  Do you truly hate me so much!“

Feint’s grin faded to one more of guilt than amusement in the light of Lyn’s temper.  "It wasn’t to traumatize you, I promise!  It was meant as a joke!”

A joke.  A joke.  Lyn didn’t know if she wanted to return to her crocodile tears and make Feint feel bad for what he did or rip those silly tinted glasses off of his face and snap them in two.  Fortunately for Feint, she didn’t get a chance to decide as a familiar voice commented nearby.

“Maybe if you weren’t so vain, you’d find it funny.”

Chloe stood not too far away, being as frank as usual.  It was no secret that she didn’t really care for Lynessa’s spoiled behavior.  Instead of snipping back, however, for once Lyn actually backed down, letting go of Feint’s shirt.  

“… a joke…” she murmured before relaxing her shoulders a little and letting out a laugh.  Here she was, wearing hardly anything at all in chilly weather, getting worked up over what?  Something a friend of hers had done to try and make her laugh?  It brought back memories of a prank war she had going back at the brothel a few years ago.  And just like that, a devious smile appeared across Lyn’s lips.  "Well, if that’s what you want, I’ll just have to brush up on my tricks,“ she hummed, winking at Feint before walking away.

Her reaction left both Feint and Chloe in confusion.  

“Did she just seem pleased about that?” Feint questioned.  

“… shit.  We’re fucked,” Chloe cringed.

Lyn didn’t acknowledge the two any more as she headed straight back to her store.  She had a few ideas of her own.  

Sure, she was prideful. And maybe a little selfish. And perhaps just a tad - but only a tad - vain.  But nobody was going to accuse her of lacking a sense of humor if she had any say in the matter.  Nobody.

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