All of it was promptly forgotten as the mismatched pair drifted into a convenience store, the hem of Hadley's gown picking up dust and fluff from the edges of the aisles as they browsed for promised snacks, despite the four or five broken crackers full of treats cradled in their bodice. Picking out some fancy (for a convenience store, anyway) cider and a few light snacks that could be saved for later, the siren poked Dallas for their wallet and paid for everything the pair selected, and then it was off towards the place they made home sharing giggles and being scolded for buying more alcohol after drinking their cocktail like that at the gala.
Criticism ran off Hadley like water over feathers, though.
They were still giggling when they finally made it back through the door to their apartment, raising the strawberry and lime cider above their head in triumph as though they'd survived some kind of medieval gauntlet instead of a relatively boring charity event.
One they might have enjoyed better without the boyfriend incident at the start.
Surely they were still going to have to talk about that.
Making a pile of treats on the table, Hadley elected to keep quiet, flopping backwards onto the couch, one leg up on the back cushions, the other foot pointing towards the floor, the copious skirts the only thing saving what little modesty they possessed.
Picking out a cracker from betwixt imaginary bosoms, the siren grinned up at Dallas and tipped a mini crab cake into their mouth. Still warm! Still amazing; they should have asked for the recipe.
“Wasn't so bad, right?” they murmured through a mouthful of crab mush. “Or do you still hate me for dragging you along?”