"Gosh, you look so nice...!"

It was hell–that's where you'd gone, you were sure of it–there was no other accurate description of what was going on right now.

Rosemary had always doted over you–as annoying and demoralizing as it was–from the time you were kids, to now, she'd never quite stopped the habit.

And now was a time where, honestly, the doting was sort of useful, in a vague, abstract, way.

The clock on the wall read 'eight–thirty-five', the calendar nearby, sporting little doodles of clouds and flowers, said it was Spring, as well as a Saturday.

Chris was finally taking you out–too a disco club of all things, but it was what it was–after nearly three whole days of you two talking.

Of course, you had to get dressed for the occasion, so, Rosemary being the doting sibling she was, opted to personally help you in the endeavour.

It'd taken nearly an hour of upturning dressers and gutting closets before Rosemary had finally stuffed you into something she considered 'nice'.

Well, it wasn't not nice, but it felt off having your older sister do this for you.

"He's going to have to pick his jaw off of the ground when he sees you, y'know that, right?"

Another half-hour passed, and then, Chris arrived, the rumble of his sixty-seven Chevrolet Impala–classy–impossible to miss.

Rosemary sent you off, with a few more teasing remarks, a wave, and a million-watt smile.

"Don't have too much fun!"

You'd get her back somebody.

Chris didn't look too bad himself–though the man tended to look good in just about anything he put on.

He was waiting by the door–the gentleman he was. When he looked up from his wandering gaze on the porch, his eyes widened, before a smile formed to match them.

"...you look...amazing, y'know that...?"

His jaw hadn't fallen off, though he had gawked, so that was half a point for Rosemary, and zero for you.

It'd be a long night, but at least it'd be a good night.

Hopefully an amazing one, though when it came to Chris, 'hope' wasn't needed all that much.