You held up the soft cloth dress to inspect it a bit closer. It had no straps and was made specially to push up your boobs for a tempting and large preview.
You let the dress fall back down to the bed and gazed at yourself in the full-body hotel mirror. A frumpy gray shirt covered your chest, the ends almost reaching down to the knees of your baggy jeans. In this outfit, you looked like you had no boobs, and no butt.
"(Name), the awesome me is going down to the bar," Gilbert yelled through your door while knocking obnoxiously, "if you're going to be seen with me, then you're going to have to at least try and look like a girl!"
That was it. You finally snapped.
You were tired of Gilbert constantly critisizing your clothes and unstyled hair. You liked to dress for comfort, and you wouldn't exactly be able to chase after the idiotic Prussian all day in high-heels, could you?
So he wanted to see you look like a real girl? Then you'd give him the girliest girl he'd ever seen. Or, at least the girliest girl you could manage. Yes. The girliest girl you could manage.
The high-heels sitting in your suitcase that was opened up on the bed seemed to bore a whole through your soul. Okay, maybe you could be the girliest girl you could manage without having to wear devices of torture on your feet. Yes, it was perfect.
Gilbert took another long swig of his beer, letting the sensational tongue-loosener drain down his throat. He eyed nearby girls, finding none who really caught his full attention. Gilbert was picky when it came to women.
His meeting with Alfred had ended about an hour ago. Now the albino man was just sitting by himself at a two-person table, waiting for you to show up.
You were probably in your room still, crying about your weight or attempting to look like a decent human-being, he assumed. Gilbert really did have a soft spot for you, he just never showed it. That would mean showing weakness to the enemy. If you ever found out that he cared even just a little bit about your feelings, you'd hold it to him for the rest of his life.
He had been feeling odd lately, though. You got along well with Ludwig, and when Gil would hear you and his little brother share a laugh, he'd always had the weirdest temptation to go take you away from Ludwig and share his own little laughs with you, to make memories and inside jokes with you.
It was an incredibly girly feeling.
A high-pitched wolf whistle broke Gil from his thoughts. He glanced up from his drink in hopes that a girl who was finally pretty enough for him had entered the bar.
But instead he found you.
Or at least he thought it was you.
You stood beside the doorway of the bar, a skimpy red dress out-lining your perfectly placed curves. Your breasts were pushed up into two tempting mounds. Your legs seemed to go on forever. Your hair curled and touchable, the kind of hair Gilbert wanted to run his hands through.
You might as well have been naked.
You glanced around the room uncertainly, an embarassed blush gracing your cheeks. Gilbert stared silently at you some more, wondering just how drunk he was.
Your eyes finally landed on him and you strode towards him, not in high-heels, but a comfortable and overly-worn pair of black, drawn on converse that you always wore with jeans.
"Hey, Gil," you greeted, pulling out the chair across from him and taking a seat, "do I look good enough to hang out with you?" Your tone was bitter, mocking.
Gilbert's red eyes flickered across your body, right up to your make-upped face, but not before they lingered on the boobs he never knew you had. "You look...awesome, (Name)."
"I damn well better look awesome," you muttered as you shifted in your seat uncomfortably, "I have to wear a thong with this dress and it's annoying as hell."
Gilbert was suddenly intensly curious as to what color said thong was. How it looked on your perfectly sculpted ass, how it would look lying on the floor after he rips it off with his teeth. "Let me buy you a drink, (Name)."