Clary smoothed the fabric down across her legs, turning sideways in the mirror. The outfit looked like something Izzy would wear. Long lace dress with a high slit up the side that flattered her form, high heels and thigh highs that—
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
Clary jumped, squeaking in a manor that she'd later deny, before clutching her hand over her heart in fear, sighing in relief.
Magnus. Magnus Bane was in her bedroom, scarf slung over one shoulder, looking down his nose at her in utter disappointment.
"Mag—."
"What what what are you doing?!"
"I'm just getting dressed." Clary explained, tugging at the dress "Jace said he likes lace so…"
"SO we wrap ourselves in grandma's doilies? GRANDMA'S DOILIES?"
"But…"
"You look like a prostitute." Alec says from somewhere in the room, a slight level of shame in his voice that seemed to be directed more at himself than Clary. "An old prostitute."
"What are you doing in my bedroom—."
"Here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna write a sad poem in your journal, we're gonna burn that dress, and we're going to go to Forever 21 and dress you like a normal teenager."
A.N. Can't stop won't stop. (Yeah, I should stop I know.)
