She was tugging at his heartstrings, {{user}}, with the way she dressed. Ben wasn’t exactly sure she even acknowledged that, as she practically babysat him while Butcher and Hughie went somewhere to do important things, or whatever, but that wasn’t even the problem, here.

The problem was that, thankfully, he didn’t have to gaze upon the modern fashion. Not big hoodies or weird-looking pants that were clearly too big for anyone wearing them, the fabric dragging on the floor, but rather tailored suit jackets and skirts that ended below the knee, sometimes trousers. It fit her, he had decided long ago; yellow, red and blue tones complimented her skin or whatnot quite well—like she’d been brought back from good old times, the 40s and 50s, and forced into this day just as he’d been.

He had thought that {{user}} was just planning on going to some costume party, the first time he saw her, which wouldn’t surprise him, but, once again, he had been proven wrong. No, Soldier Boy, I’m not going to some costume party, she had said, all cute, I just like the fashion.

Like the fashion. Ben liked the damn fashion too, now, he was always waiting for when she’d come back to the motel.

Like, right now, as he looked away from the table and towards the open door. “What you got for me today, fashionista ?”