Sam Carter didn't like to shop. That was one of the many ways that she differed from the other members of her sex.
Shopping was not a leisure activity, it was a necessity and nothing more. Especially when she had to shop alone.
With surgeon-like precision she could make her way through any store in the country, shopping at such a speed that the sales clerks barely had time to register that she was there.
And she liked it that way. She was used to it being that way. She shopped for what she needed when she needed it, cutting out all the excess fripperies that usually accompanied the activity (like 'debating' what color looked best on her or what cut was the most flattering), and she liked that she had the ability to go into a store and retrieve what she wanted with a minimum of fuss.
So it only followed that to be caught in her current position, staring at a rack of ball gowns in varying shades with a look of absolute muddled defeat, she was quite out of her element.
Did she look better in green or in blue? Was a plunging neckline all wrong? Was baring her shoulders too much? She didn't want to give Rodney the wrong impression...
Cater blinked, yanked out of her thoughts by the undoubtedly teenage whine that had just broken her concentration. "Mom! I know I said I don't want to look like a nun, but I don't want to give him the wrong idea either!"
Two aisles away, a rather gangly, nerdy teenage girl was arguing heatedly with her mother. The aforementioned mother was the anti-thesis of her child, bleached blonde, buxom and perfectly dressed, while the girl was thin, awkward and wore glasses so large they made her look like some sort of bug.
'Mom' was holding up a garish aquamarine blue ensemble that had a neckline that was far too daring and Sam found herself sympathizing with the girl wholeheartedly.
"But it's the latest style, dear!" The mother waved the dress in what she must have thought was an attractive fashion, accomplishing nothing more than showing just how many sparkles and dangly bits it had, adding to the blindingly obvious fact that it was hideous. It was far too short, far too low cut and the color could have conceivably put someone's eye out.
The girl goggled at the dress before turning to grab an emerald green one off the rack. "This is what I want, mom."
Sam stood in stunned fascination. The girl had excellent taste...
How was it she'd managed to overlook that one herself? It was perfect!
Or maybe that was desperation making itself known inside her...she had been shopping for over six hours. At this point a bed sheet in the right color tied with a drapery pull would have been incredibly attractive.
Men had it so easy. A penguin suit and all of the sudden they were ready for a party...
Women, on the other hand, had a myriad of choices--fabric, color, style, size, shoes, accessories...jewelry, undergarments---(Not that Rodney would ever clap eyes on those, but her point still stood!).
It was enough to make anyone's head spin.
The girl and her mother were still arguing over their respective dress choices, and Sam's head was starting to ache.
Why couldn't she just wear her dress uniform? That would have been nice enough, wouldn't it?
Oh, but God forbid she got to be comfortable while spinning around a dance floor enough times to make her vomit. No, the pumps she'd have to wear weren't enough torture, society dictated that she had to wear a ball gown.
She was getting more and more annoyed with every passing minute until finally, she spun to stare at the rack of dresses in her size.
She shut her eyes, swore to herself that whatever she picked out would be what she'd wear, regardless of what she thought of it. If she didn't get out of her PDQ, she was going to lose her marbles for certain.
So, she did just that. Reaching out and grabbing the first thing her fingers came in contact with, she tucked the offending garment under her arm without even looking at it. At that point, Sam didn't care what she wore, just so long as she was wearing something.
She paid for the dress (Seven hundred dollars? Those thieves!), averting her eyes from her purchase the entire time she was swiping her credit card. She replied to the sale's clerk with a curt "Thank you" and left as quickly as she could manage without breaking into a run.
Sam just wanted to go home...she wanted to go work on something with complicated mathematical equations...just to forget that she'd ever heard the word "Chanel".
Hopefully, when the day of the ball came around, she'd find that her purchase wasn't too hideous on her...because she certainly wasn't going to look at it until the last minute. If she did, she'd second guess herself, and she couldn't afford to do that.
No, this was the sudden death dress. She would stuff it in the closet in its opaque garment bag and forget about it until the day Rodney was going to pick her up. He wouldn't care what she was wearing either...he would be too pleased to have her as his escort (or was it the other way around?) to make mention of silly things like cut, color and fabric.
For that, Sam was immensely grateful. It was nice to know, on some level, that he was interested in her company and not just her looks. She appreciated that.
Although that wouldn't stop her from decking him if he tried anything.