The collar of her suit nearly choked at Fareeha as she tried her best to work at the top-most collar of her shirt, her eyes squinting painfully until she finally snapped it in place, the material finally giving whatever leeway it could. It only slightly relaxed her, but it was still better then asphyxiation, she figured, with a groan.

She noticed her reflection in the fitting room mirror with a sidelong glance, turning to face herself with a frown as her eyes worked their way up and down her body. She turned to her side, examining her body's profile silently, running her hands up her torso, the both of them finally finding the small mounds at her chest that had been covered beneath her layers of clothing.

She sighed, reminiscing on her very first night in Angela's company and how, even then, the good doctor had figured enough that she preferred suits, though now that she was in a relationship, Fareeha had noticed how self-consciously she looked at herself, even beyond her morning routine. She wondered if Angela would enjoy having a beautiful woman at her arm as much as she, herself, did, and her brow furrowed in worry at the thought that she was depriving the love of her life of anything. She didn't hate dresses, though her mother had always been far too concerned with practicality, and with her muscles, anyway, Fareeha always figured that suits simply fit her better.

"Hey," she suddenly heard Angela's voice from the next room over, "You ready?"

Fareeha sighed, longingly, to herself, "Yeah, I guess."

"Alright," Angela muttered, with a certain unsurely air of her own, "Well, let's check them out."

Her lips pursed, Fareeha breathed deeply as she turned to the door, giving herself another glance in the mirror before pushing open the door and taking a step out. She turned, finding Angela having taken a slightly longer time in exiting her dressing room, though, as Fareeha just caught a glimpse of her dress underneath the door, her mouth began to drop.

Angela took a step beyond the door, blushing nervously, still clutching onto the door, even, as she revealed herself, keeping her face lowered in an attempt to hide her nerves, "Y-You know I don't like showing this much skin."

'This much skin' was just an exposed shoulder, Fareeha quickly noticed. Angela had adorned her body with a mysteriously black dress that rained down into a demure shade of blue at its bottom, the two color coming together in an elegantly dark fade of noir. The top so fluidly wrapped tightly against the doctor's skin, up only one shoulder, leaving the other exposed, and as she slowly spun around to offer Fareeha a complete look, the niveous skin of her back was wrapped with a fierce collection of material.

"Wow…" Fareeha spoke up, almost as if she'd been lost for fifteen days and having now seen food for the first time, but ultimately trailing off in her awe.

"Quit- Stop looking at me," Angela complained, lightly, still with a massive blush.

Fareeha smiled, "You chose it."

Angela groaned, rolling her eyes as she quickly adjusted the subject, "W-Well, what about you! Looking all regal in that- Well…"

She frowned as she quickly walked up toward Fareeha's wide frame, reaching up to adjust her blazer, "I don't really care how it fits, but… You know what, stick this in the 'maybe' collection and we'll move on."

Fareeha sighed, "Okay."

Replying in kind, Angela pulled herself closer into her lover's chest, stretching her arms out and into a hug, "I'm sorry, babe. Look, you put up with me for another hour and we'll go to wherever you want for lunch, alright?"

Grinning, Fareeha answered, "Even 'Wok This Way'?"

"Yes," Angela nodded, drolly, "Even there…"

Fareeha grinned childishly as Angela pulled away, the soldier quickly hopping back into the dressing room with a renewed vigor as she carefully began to undress, eyeing the remaining suits that Angela had given her to try on. Her energy quickly faded as she frowned, wondering why Angela hadn't even bothered with dresses, even though she knew the doctor had no reason to do so, given her previous tastes.

Still, a thought crept into Fareeha's mind. She lifted her body up from having bent down, staring at the door, her eyes narrowing seriously as she neared the handle, slowly opening the door and making sure Angela had returned as well before quietly tip-toeing out from the dressing rooms and back into the main storefront.


Meanwhile, Angela was knee-deep in her next dress, grumbling quietly to herself as she forced the outfit onto her body, shaking her head in displeasure as her eyes battled their way toward the mirror, her lips frowning the entire way. She stood up straight, lips to the side, rolling her eyes at the sight.

She wanted nothing more than to move along, but she did have a deal with Fareeha, who wanted to see her everything she tried on- like switching a gorgeous painting from one frame to another, Fareeha enjoyed finding what suited her, and what didn't, in her own eyes, even if she never admitted not liking a dress unless Angela clearly didn't herself. The doctor would even try and trick her on occasion, though this dress had turned out to be so garish, she thought, nobody would have believed her if she'd 'liked' it.

Silently releasing a sigh, she looked up toward the top of the partition between the two's rooms, speaking up, lowly, "Ready?"

"N-No! Not- Not yet!" came Fareeha's voice, with an uncharacteristic nervousness.

Angela's eyes fell suspiciously, and she took a few steps back, leaning over to peer beneath the partition, though she could see anything. Her lips turned up curiously, wondering where Fareeha's nerves had come from; she couldn't remember picking anything out that might have elicited such a response.

She heard a quiet sort of hyperventilation from the other dressing room, and after a moment, Fareeha spoke up herself, unsurely, "O-Okay…"

Despite her gaudy dress, Angela's mind had left her own personage and she quickly darted out from her room, immediately gluing her eyes onto the adjoining door, hopefully awaiting Fareeha's exit. Had she'd mix-and-matched something she, herself, thought would have looked good? She hadn't ever exhibited much of a stylistic taste, though Angela was rather curious with what she might have come up with. She'd only taken charge in these situations because Fareeha, whose attire often included sweats and tank-tops, allowed her to do so. Perhaps she had taken an interest after that reaction to Angela's last dress?

Her door slowly crept open, Angela's eyes lowered peculiarly as she awaited her exit. The first thing that popped out was Fareeha's head, her face an absolute mess of anxiety, though her shoulder exposed itself enough that Angela could tell she had gone and found a dress.

"Wow," Angela noted in surprise, smiling, "Did you go with something new?"

Fareeha bit her lip, "W-Well, I just wanted you to- I mean…"

She trailed off as Angela's head tilting in confusion, though after a quick exhalation, Fareeha simply shut her eyes and stepped out from behind the door, throwing caution into the wind, hoping beyond all hope that Angela wouldn't throw it right back at her.

Encased in darkness, Fareeha heard nothing from Angela. She hadn't heard anything, at that; no footsteps, none of the fabric of her own dress rustling as Angela moved her arms. In fact, as she thought of it more and more, she found that she couldn't even heard Angela breathing.

She had gone and found a positively elegant black dress that was mostly transparent, save for some delicately placed vines of shapes that curved symmetrically up her skirt and swirled delicately over her chest, though the major point was the feathery material that worked its way around her hips, taking attention off of her muscles, which was possibly the point, Angela thought.

Her eyes still closed, Fareeha finally heard Angela take a breath, though it was quickly followed by footsteps. Angela quickly took a hold of Fareeha's arm, the soldier's eyes flying open in surprise as Angela's eyes worked their way up down her body.

"O-Okay," muttered Angela, listlessly, "We'll, uh- You need to take it off right now."

"W-Why?" Fareeha stammered, worriedly, "I knew I was terrible at this, but-.

"No!" Angela's head shook as fast as ever, "No! No, it's perfect; but I mean-"

She had managed to push Fareeha back into her dressing room, following along as her hands still grasped onto her, "You look positively gorgeous, Fareeha! I just don't think- I don't want to- Uh…"

Fareeha smirked, mischievously, "You don't want to share me?"

"Well, n-not looking like this, anyway," Angela replied, the initial shock having worn off, giving her the chance to properly appraise the demure material that had been wrapped around her lover.

She tugged at a piece up by her shoulder, earning a soft explanation from Fareeha, "Yeah, with me being by myself, I might not have gotten it right. I couldn't even get the zipper up all the way."

Angela spun her around, her eyes growing in surprise at the sight. She couldn't remember having ever seen her in a dress before, and whenever she usually noticed Fareeha's bare back, it wasn't often at all. With the dress so delicately working atop of the curving shape before her, Angela nearly gulped as she reached out to complete the zipper's journey.

"We're you trying something new? or just trying to get me bothered?" Angela asked, lightly.

Fareeha grinned, "A little bit of both, I suppose."

"Mission fucking accomplished," Angela replied, breathlessly, "Let's get this one, but- uh, keep it for special occasions. You can get something else for the party."

Fareeha's face appeared over her shoulder, still smirking, "Isn't this party a special occa-"

"Just hush," Angela interrupted, annoyingly, as Fareeha gave a soft laugh.