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She's <span class="mu-i">flustered.</span> Ha. Seriously? You were expecting chilly suspicion or a lecture on body mistreatment or really anything but— does she see a <span class="mu-i">kindred spirit</span> in you? Is that what this is? You'd crow about how you duped her if not for the fact that you— well, you did enjoy yourself in the end, once you got to really test your mettle. Fuck. <span class="mu-s">Are</span> you kindred spirits? Are you going to wind up inviting her to fucking Bran's? You bitch about your shady clients and your shitty exes, she bitches about hers? You hate that you don't hate that idea. Being kidnapped is <span class="mu-i">getting</span> to you.
"I mean," you say. "It's handy. Never know when you're gonna need your body back."
"<span class="mu-i">Right?</span>" Oh, god, she's commiserating. "You'd think so! But no, all I hear is— it's weird. It's scary. It's <span class="mu-i">creepy—</span> like being a walking meat sack isn't creepy if you think about it long enough. And like— I'm sorry, are you calling me creepy? Do you realize I employ you? <span class="mu-i">Am</span> I creepy?"
Weird, yes. Scary, arguably sometimes. Creepy? You might have a high tolerance, but— "Nah."
"Exactly! I'm telling you, people don't have any— are you remolding yourself with clothing on, by the by? I don't really give a damn either way, I've seen a <span class="mu-i">lot</span> of—"
"Shit! Fuck." You'd completely forgotten. The jumpsuit is folded on the low table where you left it, after you found it non-conducive to fully dissolving yourself. "Uh, I'd <span class="mu-i">like</span> to, but I'm not sure if I—"
"Just do what you're doing, but really focus on the clothes. Helps if it's something you wear a lot." Pat's mask crinkles. "Look, I'm bushed. How about I go make us some tea, be back in five, and I can give some pointers if you need them."
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She keeps her promise, plunks two steaming mugs of tea onto the table, and with a level eye surveys your hard work. "Pretty good. You just started this morning?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, you're better than some of the bastards who've had this for years. Not to say you're a prodigy or anything, they're just incurious—" Her fist clenches. "A whole damn world to explore, and they want to camp out in the backyard. Anyhow. You have the basics of it. Nice clothes."
You are indeed wearing... clothes. They look, at a glance, like the shit you usually wear— not being assed to shop pays off for once. They're even tighter to the skin than usual, though, and the textures are strange. Not very cloth-like. But at least your tits aren't out in front of Pat, no matter how libertine she professes to be. "Sure thing."
"Really, they're not bad. Smart decision with the solid colors. It's hard to replicate patterns." She grabs a mug and sits down on the couch. "There's a lot of nuances to everything, really— as you might expect. It's a complex substance, a body's a complex thing. Tea?"
(Choices next.)
