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Four: Clearly Inappropriate
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She paces around the room that's been assigned to her. The blank walls stare at her as though judging her. She doesn't need that, she's sick of everyone judging her.
And now Syndrome wants to take her out to dinner?
'It's got to be a joke,' she decides, and tries to remember whether or not he was using a funny voice when he asked her. She doesn't think so.
"He's your boss," she tells herself out loud. She runs her fingers through her hair and sighs. "Don't be inappropriate—be business-like!"
She runs her eyes over the collection of dresses, tops and suits in her closet.
"Can't go wrong with the black dress," she comments and strips, stepping into it and shimmying through it.
She stares in the mirror, and then pulls at the front roughly.
Some cleavage shows now.
She thinks this necessary.