Dresses (WB):
A pink one, a blue one, one fringed with black lace, another velvet and maroon, all laid out across that bed fit for a queen like a carnival, like a box of colorful sweets. Bender shuffled back and forth between the bed and the boudoir, whisking one after the other behind the nearly-opaque set up to wriggle himself into, minding the pearls and lace. Fry enjoyed the blotchy silhouette from behind the veil as he sat on the mattress's edge, grinning each time the robot stepped free and spun too fast for his dangling jewelry to catch up with him.
"Well, are ya gonna say somethin' or are ya waiting for me to go obsolete? Yay or nay, Meatbag?" Bender inquired gruffly, one knuckle on his hip and Fry continued to eye him with glee.
"Gee, I dunno, they're all nice." Fry replied through that lopsided smile of his, the smile that emphasized the crinkles of his eyes and the gaps in his teeth. Bender swiftly shook off whatever fond feelings that it aroused and thumped him on the back of the head with his silver palm.
"All nice ain't gonna cut it this time." Bender scolded as he pivoted to pry open the swollen hinges of the closet so he could fork through his many dresses yet again, trying to spot any he may have missed. "I gotta pick one by seven and I still need extra time to throw some sorta dessert together before the party. Now, on an unrelated note, do humans like stale marshmallow-and-potato casserole?"
"Huh?" Fry snapped out of some absent-minded trance and shot the robot an awfully innocent look. "Oh, uh, I probably would."
Bender mimicked the redhead in a high-pitched voice and rolled his optics as he swung a sequined cocktail from it's hanger. He then tossed it to a sparkling heap in the corner with the other rejects and returned to his hurried digging in the closet.
"Jeez, Bender, does it really matter what you wear to this stupid shindig? It's only at Amy's-"
"You listen here, buddy." Bender reeled to retort sternly with a stout finger between Fry's eyebrows. "Amy has been doin' nothing but being a huge pain in my ass for the past month about designer brands or some sort of 'authenticity, best-of-the-best' crap she keeps pressing, so don't you dare think I'm showing up to her daddy's poorly-decorated Martian mansion without the best damn dress that's ever been on the market and a dessert so deliciously fattening she won't be able to fit her ass into that tiny pink Halston ever again!"
Fry stayed quiet, cross eyed at the digit hovering threateningly in front of his nose. All this time with Bender was making him a little better at picking battles, and he really wasn't up for a crusade today.
"Now." Bender filled in the silence. "Let's make this easy, Fleshwad. Which dress do you like the least?"
"Uh, the uh- The blue one." Fry answered, not truly remembering what the blue dress even looked like. He was trying to spare himself from a whooping.
"Then blue it is." Bender whispered, tapping his manicured claws against Fry's cheek rather roughly and teetering his way to the bed to fold the showy garment over his slender arm and bring with him to the boudoir once again.