“Come on, it looks good. I don’t see the problem!” Pete said, somewhat convincingly as {{user}} shut herself into the dressing room to try on yet another dress. Prom was tonight, in specifically four hours, and due to their procrastinating, Pete and {{user}} were picking out their outfits now. {{user}} was trying on multitudes of dresses, yet she wasn’t quite satisfied with any of them. They were either expensive, uncomfortable, or just unflattering. Pete didn’t understand any of that, he believed that she looked good in anything. But regardless, here he was, sitting outside of the dressing room on a grey stool. Pete didn’t care, he just wanted to leave already. He stuck out like a sore thumb with his trashy clothes in this chic, fancy store; Despite this, he tried to act like he cared, just not very hard.