He followed her with all the trepidation and caution of a Watchhog on February second, fearfully cowering in the presence of the square-backed bouncer. His ill-fitting suit seemed ready to burst at the seams when he leaned in to get a better look at the wimp, stopped only by a high, lilting voice drifting out from the room he was guarding. "Let 'im in," it said, and so he did.

The room was small, cramped, over-decorated, and the air stunk with the stench of perfumed smoke. The lady of the hour sat in front of a large, lit vanity, forcefully removing pins from her perfectly curled hair. He coughed and she noticed, turning around and flashing him a toothy grin, her slightly yellowed teeth contrasting her snow-white hair. He saw now it was no trick of the light—she was a real, honest to God albino, the kind he only heard about in science reviews from far off lands. But she was here, she was real, and with her heels kicked off into a corner, much shorter than he had imagined. She scrutinized him, the two blue moons plucked from the sky and jammed into her sockets looking him over from head to toe. Cheren shifted uncomfortably, and her grin grew wider. She turned her attention back to the mirror, calling out to him over her shoulder, "Be a dear and unzip me, will ya?"

He stood rooted to the spot, temperature of the room seeming to take a sharp incline. If the coat hanger to his left wasn't already draped in imitation Zorua fur coats, he would've taken his jacket off. Since that wasn't the case, he just stood there, stammering like a moron. "...I... beg your pardon?"

"Unzip me. The dress? Big ol' zipper right there down the back. Can't miss it." She yanked another pin from her hair, drawing it to the side and off her neck for him. Upon realizing that this still did nothing to prompt him into action, she took on a sharper tone. "Look, if you're just gonna stand there, you can forget about the job. I ain't lookin' for some layabout who can't even get a dress off. Unzip me."