DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am a welder, not a fashion expert. Please excuse any ignorance and/or idiocy you may find in my description of how the characters are dressed/colors/etc. I did the best I could.
"I'm really glad you decided to go, Meryl!" Milly exclaimed happily. It was the night of the dance, and she was dressed to the nines in a kelly green dress with ruffles from waist to the hemline that went down almost to the heel of her mid-calf light brown boots, and puffed mid-arm sleeves with small gemstone-adorned ruffles. The neckline was not deep, but neither so high up that there wasn't a fair hint of what was underneath the soft material.
The dress belonged to the saloon owner's wife, who was close in size to Milly and had been more than happy to make the small alterations needed. "Anything for that nice young preacher's girl," she had said, causing Milly to laugh and Meryl to roll her eyes.
Nice young preacher, my foot.
Meryl, on the other hand, had chosen to buy her dress. She couldn't put her finger on why, but she wanted to look good, and she just wouldn't have felt comfortable wearing someone else's dress.
So she had looked around for things in her price range, not really finding anything that felt right to her – until she laid eyes on a thin-strap lavender number that was form-fitting yet modest, slightly ruffled in the legs where Milly's was very ruffled, with enough room that she could move loosely. This was actually to allow for dances that required a lot of leg movement, but Meryl appreciated more keenly that it would allow her to jump into action if needed.
This dress was what she wanted. A look at the price tag, however, showed it to be far out of her price range. She had sighed, accepted the reality of her situation, and gone to look elsewhere. Having no luck in her search, she had returned to her room, prepared to simply reject the idea of having a nice dress of her own – only to find the lavender gown she'd had her heart set on laid out carefully on her bed, ready for wear. With it were a pair of white boots with royal purple trim that, upon trying them on, she found were comfortable enough to dance in yet built sturdily enough that she could run or fight in them if she had to.
Meryl had spent a few minutes to squeal in joy before settling down and wondering who had given her such a gift. Upon interrogation, Milly sternly denied any involvement in the matter – "I don't have any money, Meryl, I sent mine to my family and used what I had left to buy you some pudding for after the dance. It's important to refuel after dancing, you know. Oh! I wanted that to be a surprise dessert for you!"
Wolfwood had said, "It wouldn't have occurred to me." Jerk.
She automatically discounted Vash. Any money he had went toward donuts and drink. She didn't even know how he stayed in ammunition for his six-gun.
In the end, Meryl decided she would continue her investigation into the mystery donor later, and enjoy the dress now.
She couldn't help but smile at Milly's enthusiasm. "Well, if you're glad, then I'm glad you're glad. And I guess everyone needs a night off now and again."
Meryl did look pretty good in the mirror. Her hair could never be styled the way Milly's was, in long beautiful locks, but she had freshly shampooed and brushed it, and added some scented styling spray to emphasize her bangs. Not too shabby, for a self-done job.
"And I'll bet Mr. Vash is going to drop dead when he sees you!"
Meryl rolled her eyes. "He will not, Milly. He's just interested in experiencing his first real dance. I don't even know why I got dressed up for the silly thing."
"I think I do," Milly sang.
And on that note… "Milly, I just saw Mr. Wolfwood go running by. You'd better hurry and catch him. You know it's bad form to show up at a dance separately."
"Oh!" Milly bolted out, closing the door behind her. Meryl could hear her calling, "Wait for me, Mr. Priest!"
Worked every time.
Meryl finished putting on her makeup in the mirror. A little bit of blush, a touch of lipstick – mascara? No. Eye shadow? No. She'd keep it basic. No need to go overboard.
A knock at the door took her attention from the mirror.
"Who is it?"
"Me, Vash. Is it ok if I come in?"
"Just a minute," she called at him. She did a last-minute check in the mirror – why? She didn't care how she looked to him. – and went to the door.
He nearly took her breath away. His hair was still styled the same way, which was to be expected; but instead of the red coat and rough boots, he was sporting clean and pressed khaki jeans, a light brown leather vest, and a starched white shirt with a black bolo tie and turquoise slide. Polished dress boots and gentleman's gloves completed the look. On anyone else, the outfit wouldn't have caught any eyes. Vash somehow made it look dashing.
"Wow," she managed.
He grinned. "Wow."
Meryl gathered her wits from wherever they had gone. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at the dance already."
"No way. I told you, I don't want to be there with no one to dance with. Besides, right now, I don't think I'd rather be anyplace else."
She expected some sort of lecherous innuendo, or leer – anything she was used to from a guy. But his eyes stayed on hers.
He really meant it.
He held out his hand. "So may I have the honor of escorting you to the dance?"
Meryl couldn't help but smile as she slid her hand into his. "You may."
She understood why he was excited about this. It was his first real, organized dance. She, however, had been to several in her time, and never found them to be that big of a deal. So why, then, as they walked together, was her heart beginning to pound with anticipation?
