It had taken most of the afternoon, but Cara was finally glitter-free, and her likewise glitter-free leathers were carefully hung away.

After wrestling with the fastening on her dress (which had taken the non-glitter-removing part of her afternoon to find), and rescuing her hair after it got caught in the fastening, she sat down at the table to wait. Immediately she started drumming her fingers against the tabletop.

Within five minutes she was up and pacing, occasionally readjusting her cleavage.

So really, it was like any other random evening of hers. Nothing at all out of the ordinary. Nothing.

[For the girl.]

From the safety of the opposite side of the room, Cara stared at the shapeless mass of fabric lying on her bed as if it was suddenly going to come to life, fly across the room and attempt to strangle her. Which it very possibly might. You never really knew about these things.

She fiddled with one glove, tugging it halfway off then back on again. She couldn't believe she was even thinking about this. At all. Not that she'd quite managed to work up to the idea of actually going through with it yet.

[OOC: up super early because timezones are evil and to beat the rush, mine is an evil laugh. Closed door, open post.]