a new 'normal'

Who: Mickey and December
Where: Her place
When: Early evening

The suit wasn’t his best, but considering how his best suit looked now, it probably was now. It fit well though and while it had taken work, he’d manged to scrub off the worst of the grime that usually covered his hands and cheeks. His hair was as close as he could get to it being under control, but it still fell in his eyes a little.

He knew this might not work. He was more than sure that this might not work, but she had, at some point said she was going to go to this. Maybe she’d still hold that up. Or maybe not, but he’d told Miles he’d bring her if she agreed, which meant here Mickey was, knocking on her door before letting himself into the shop. “December?”

December was, seemingly for once, not upstairs in bed asleep or partially drunk. Instead, she was down in the shop, doing some inventory. She'd just gotten done with a tattoo, just a few minutes beforehand, so she was going over what inks she had, and she was trying to see if she needed to order anything new. When there was a knock on the door, she instantly felt her stomach twist. She only knew one person who would knock on the door of a shop, when it was customary to just let oneself in. And, two seconds later, there he was, calling her name.

She was curled up on the tattooing chair, and she looked over. She looked, then went distinctly back to what she'd been doing, even if she no longer knew where she was on the inventory list. She wasn't reading it for real, she was just trying to follow her cousin's advice. Disinterest. Unfortunately, she wasn’t really disinterested, she was incredibly aware of him. And the fact that apparently he’d dressed himself up, and he looked pretty good.

No answer. That was not a good sign. In most situations that meant that she might be angry with him, which had Mickey going over the time since he’d fallen asleep in her bed until now to try and determine what he’d done wrong. Maybe he’d snored. Or maybe he should have called. It wasn’t anything solid, but it was a start. Not one to be deterred though, he continued inside, shutting the door behind him. It left him searching for something to say, smoothing at his suit as if it might look nicer from just him standing there, trying to be in one piece. “Busy?” He winced when he said it, but what else did he have? She hadn’t even said hello. It wasn’t like he could launch into trying to coax her out in public with him if she wasn’t going to say hello.

"Yep." December answered. She still couldn't have told anyone what the list in front of her said, and as she turned to a new page, she didn't know what anything there was either. Just because it looked like she was concentrating like hell on the pages didn't mean she was even truly seeing them. Nope. All of her concentration was on the man she was trying very hard to look like she didn't even notice was truly there.

He almost left. He almost said he could come back later and not stand there like an idiot waiting for her to do more than give him a one word answer. It actually took his own bit of will power to drift a few steps closer. “What are you working on?” he asked instead, really wishing she’d look up at him instead of whatever it was she was working on. At least in the past when she got angry with him she just yelled. This was unsettling.

"Inventory. Don't you have someplace to be?" she answered. Sure looked like he had someplace to be. Shit. Wait. She wasn't meant to have noticed. This was all going to be harder than she thought. Or maybe she was still just frazzled over...like, everything in her life at the moment. That could be too.

That was a start, at least she’d noticed what he was wearing, or that it wasn’t what he normally wore. And it was an invitation to extend his own invitation. “I was hoping you’d go with me.”

"Where?" she asked, then internally winced again. Nope. Wrong response. She finally ticked her gaze back to him. "And why would I?" she said, hoping that part would make up for the bit where she'd expressed interest. It kinda sucked that at second glance, he really did clean up well.

Mickey was sure there was something wrong at this point. That he’d messed up somewhere. Maybe he should have called. “The gala. We talked about it before.” Not sure what to do with his hands he tucked them into his pockets, shrugging as best he could with them there. “You said you would.”

The gala. Fuck. She'd told him she'd go. She even remembered that part. It was her whim she was paying back. Which internally, she had a very hard time not giving it up right there and agreeing, because she tried to keep her word. She did owe him. But instead, she wondered if maybe she denied it that he wouldn't call bullshit. "Well, obviously I'm busy." Don’t call bullshit, don’t call bullshit...

“Well you’ve got some time before it starts,” he said with a shrug. “And if it has to get done before you can go, I can always help.” He drifted a few steps closer, able to look over her shoulder at what she was doing.

"I don't want your help." December told him, and she looked up at him with a frown. "You should just go on your own. I'm busy, and in case you missed it, this is me giving you the brush off. So, kindly take the hint, and go off to your little party alone, and find someone else to bother. I'm sure there'll be a lot of choices."

“The brush off?” he asked, surprised by that, but he managed to hold it out of his features, no matter how much it stung. That was what he did, kept all the hurt back so no one would know. “Well, I’d planned on going with you. Because you said you would, being your whim and all. If you don’t go, I won’t go.”

"Well that's just stupid." December told him. "You're all dressed up. You should go. It'll be good for you. Then you can be out of my hair, and not moping around. And so what if it's my whim?" she asked, setting her papers down. She was pretty sharply aware that for his whim, he'd let her mark him permanently. So all in all? This was a particularly shitty thing for her to do. She understood that. And she really hated it. But like he was covering, so was she. For the moment she looked impassive.

“Moping. That’s what I’d do? Really?” Mickey gave her a look then shrugged again. “So what if it’s your whim? You’re just gonna go back on all that now? That’s totally unfair. And you already said yes.” He watched her for a moment then turned his back not quite able to keep that pain off his face or out of of his shoulders. At least with his back turned it wasn’t right there for her to read off his face. It wasn’t unfair that she wasn’t coming, it was unfair that she could unhinge him with one comment.

And, because it wasn't like she didn't actually like Mickey, she felt bad. Which was not how she was meant to be feeling. She was supposed to be unaffected. Whatever. She also tried very hard to just sit there, and not say anything when he turned away. He was right, though. It was unfair. And, despite her wanting to just strike a killing blow there, she went the other way. Her internal sense of right and wrong was skewed at best, really, but in this case she was feeling a really sharp pang over it. "What's my stipulations for tonight?" she asked, sighing as she sank back into the seat, knowing defeat when she tasted it.

“Stipulations?” Mickey asked as he turned back, this time the surprise was showing. “What...you’re coming with me?”

"Yes, crybaby, I'm coming with you. So, if I'm going, and if this is my whim, then what are the parameters of it? If we're going to be 'fair' and all, you get to set them." she explained, clearly sulking, but it wasn't actually directed at him. It was directed at herself. She was an idiot. This was stupid. But she was doing it, she guessed, and if she was, she'd better get the fuck on board.

“Don’t call me a crybaby for one,” Mickey said shaking his head. “I did nothing to deserve that unless you are just trying to provoke me.” He held a hand out to her, smirk starting to show on his features. “The idea was you, trying to have a fun in a social setting so there’s that. Try to relax, enjoy yourself. Talk to people, talk to me. Maybe even dancing if we’re really feeling daring.”

She eyed his hand, then sighed, resigned. She took it, and hopped down from the chair. "So I have to be social, is what you're saying? Do I have to be nice?" she asked, starting towards the door to the stairs to her apartment. She was going to have to change, if she was doing this. Thankfully she had some dressier clothes. She would have to pick what, though. She didn't really have any clue what would be appropriate.

Now he was smiling, following after her even if he wasn’t invited explicitly. “Well nice and social sometimes go hand in hand. At least try to be nice. Or settle for being nice to me. That might be interesting.”

"Nice to you. Fine. We'll see about other people." she said, voice a grumble. She could hear the smile in his voice, she didn't have to turn around to see it. Instead, she headed towards the bathroom, where she had a small closet that held some of her nicer clothes. Flipping the light on, she opened the closet and stared at the dresses hung up there. Many of them she'd made herself. There was also the whole thing of most of it being black. "Do I have to wear color?" she asked. Technically there were a few pieces that weren’t black.

Mickey followed into her but not into the bathroom, willing to give her some privacy. “We’ll see about other people then,” he agreed. At her question he shrugged, then remembered she wasn’t looking at him. “I don’t think you have to. Might be pretty, but you’re the one that has to wear it.”

"This is your whim I'm following." December reminded him, and she looked back out at him. "So, choose. Am I wearing color or not?" Once December decided to do something, she committed. At least that could be said for her. If she was going for something, she was really going for it. So, if she was going with his whim tonight, she was going to do it for real. No half assing.

He watched her for a moment then shrugged. “Alright color. Something different.” He smiled, seeming confident in the choice even if he was unsure. Fashion wasn’t his thing.

"Fine." she said, then she looked back at her clothes. "How much time do I have to get ready?" she asked, having no real idea what time it was or when the stupid thing started. But she was wondering if she had time for a shower first or not. Then, something else occurred to her. "Do I have to be 'normal'?" she asked.

Mickey looked at his watch. “Doesn’t start for an hour. I got here early.” Because he was pretty sure he was going to have to coax her into going or give her time to get ready. “Normal? What exactly is normal?”

She started to shuck her clothes, putting the shower on, so it would have time to get hot. "'Normal' means I take out my piercings, and I don't make new ones before we go." she told him. She sometimes went without her piercings, or less of them. And her sense of 'style' was considered 'sick and wrong' by most people, so she wanted to know if she needed to refrain from what was in her mind. like how she was considering one of her red dresses, and when she wore it she usually added some surface piercings to her arms and laced them with red ribbon. But she was guessing that wasn't going to fly at an event like this. Normally she wouldn't have cared and would have done it anyways, but this wasn't her thing. It was Mickey's.

“Oh.” Mickey considered that, not sure what to make of it. Her piercings didn’t really bother him that much but he had decided they came with her, and that was just how it was. “You’d add more before we left?” he asked instead. “And what would you take out?”

December looked at herself in the mirror, sighing as she started to take out the piercings in her face. Maybe she'd just go 'normal'. Give him the sort of picture of being social that he seemed to want. "The metal in my face." she told him, setting the piercings down on the back of the sink as she removed them. "And I was thinking about one of my red dresses. But when I wear it, I usually do small corsets on my arms. I'm thinking that wouldn't go over well, though. So..." she trailed off.

“Oh, that.” Mickey frowned. It didn’t bother him, it hadn’t really ever, but he guessed it was alarming to someone who didn’t just see December. “I guess maybe. I don’t mind it, gotten used to it I guess. Though I don’t think it ever bothered me.” The second part had his eyes going wide and it was probably for the the best that she couldn’t see him. “Down your...just for one dress?” Part of him was more than curious what that would look like, which had him wondering what that said about him.

"Yeah." December said, smirking faintly at his tone. "I like it. But yeah. I'm thinking people would probably not be into speaking to the freak with the piercings in her arms, ribbon or no." So she'd go for 'normal', and hope she pulled it off. Then she pulled the shower curtain back, and stepped in, pulling it closed again. "You can look through my clothes if you want. Maybe you'll find something." He'd probably have a better idea what would go over the best.

“It sounds interesting,” Mickey admitted, drifting closer once she was in the shower and telling him he should. “Pretty even,” he admitted. “If it looks like it would in my head.” Which sounded strange to admit and he shook his head a little, trying to find her closet. He wasn’t good with dresses, not having been around the kind girls over age ten wore. It was interesting to look through things though, seeing all the different fabrics.

Arching a brow, December stopped shampooing her hair for a moment. "Pretty?" she asked. "You'd think that was pretty." She went back to shampooing, but his answer sort of threw her. After all, Mickey was sort of the king of vanilla, wasn't he? Maybe? Hm.

He paused in looking at yet another black dress and looked towards the shower curtain. “That wouldn’t be the end goal? Yes, weird with the metal in your arms, but ribbon, to match the dress? That goal is not to look pretty?”

She'd never considered that angle before. "I don't do it to be 'pretty'." she insisted. "Or, I guess, not to anyone else. I know most people would really think it's gross, or ugly, or fucked up. I like it. so...I don't know. Maybe the goal is to be pretty to me." she said, not sure she agreed but it might be the case. "Plus there's that masochistic thing." she added, because she'd told him before, but he might have forgotten. Or maybe she just wanted to say it because she believed it was something he wouldn't quite be able to abide by, and she couldn't help but bring it to the fore. She was still meant to be getting rid of him. And she'd totally start, after she fulfilled the whim tonight.

“Sounds like the goal is to be pretty to you. And if you aren’t bleeding or have massive gashing holes then it definitely sounds like it’s meant to be pretty.” The masochistic comment did irk Mickey a little, like an itch between his shoulders he couldn’t reach. That part he didn’t fully understand, not when his urge was to keep her from pain. “It’s got to be more than that,” he said finding a red dress, guessing it was the one she’d mentioned. “You wouldn’t add the ribbon if it was just that.” He held the dress out, trying to imagine the whole picture, but failing. “I’d like to see it sometime,” he blurted before he even realized he’d said it, then rolling his eyes at himself when he did.

"Well a corset piercing is just a row of piercings if it didn't have the ribbon." December said. She didn't like the part where he said he'd want to see it sometime. But she didn't like it because part of her liked that idea, wanted to show him. That wasn't what she was meant to be feeling. She was meant to be looking for more and more surefire ways to be rid of him, not get all stupid and girly when he said he wanted to see her arm corset ribbons. Yeah. Stupid girl. she told herself. "You find a dress yet?" she asked, changing subjects, because...yeah. She was feeling stupid and silly and like she wanted to do things that she shouldn't really want to do. Looking pretty for the guy wasn’t on her list of things to do.

“If it was just for...pain, then you wouldn’t do corset piercings,” Mickey said which was mostly repeating himself. That she didn’t respond about him wanting to see it made him feel even more like an idiot for saying it. “I like the red one,” he told her, though now it would be lacking knowing there was supposed to be something else with it. And how the hell was he supposed to keep his hands off her arms all night? “There’s a purple one that’s nice too. I’m not really good at this.”

"Yes I would, because when you pull the ribbon, it hurts, and I like that." December told him. Since that was part of it. "And who cares if you're good at it or not, just pick something. This is your night, or whatever, you're the one who's here making sure it's followed through on, so I'm following through. Hold up your end." she added, washing herself up. She considered whether or not she was going to need a new ribbon in her back, and the answer was 'probably'. which left her wondering if she was going to ask him to do it, or if she was just going to pull it out and be done. Decisions decisions. She guessed in the end it would depend on what he picked, and if it was going to show off her back or not.

Mickey’s mouth went dry at that. There was no good answer for why it did, but maybe it had something to do with never talking about what she liked. Or what it really entailed. For a moment he had to close his eyes, force himself to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing. Putting the red dress away he shook off those thoughts. It wouldn’t be enough, not when she didn’t add to it, not when there wasn’t time for her to explain it to him. To show him. Without too much thought he picked up the dark purple dress, looking at it once more before hanging it on a hook on the door. “Purple dress works.”

Her immediate reaction was slight disappointment, because now she did wanna do the red, but purple worked. She had a couple, so she wondered which one he'd picked. Probably the most normal looking one. "If the back is low on it, I'm going to need you to re-thread my back." she told him. She also finished up her shower, and shut the water off, reaching her arm out to grab the towel on the bar next to it.

He was still looking at the red dress. Mickey’s mind was somewhere else entirely and it wasn’t until she turned the water off on the shower that he glanced back towards it. Without thinking he grabbed the towel and put it in the reaching hand. “I didn’t really look,” he admitted. They didn’t lie and right now, he really couldn’t lie about the dress. He’d grabbed one without thinking.

She hadn't expected him to hand it to her, but she took it, wrapping it around herself and securing it. Then she opened the shower curtain, and looked at him. "What part about 'you pick something, this is your deal' was unclear?" she asked, arching a brow at him. "If you're going to half ass this, so am I." she informed him, crossing her arms and giving him a stern look.

It was the first time he’d really seen her without the piercings, and in just the towel, hair still wet from the shower, Mickey just sort of stared. It was like too much at once from the change in her features without metal shoved here and there to her very bare shoulders. There was a long pause before he remembered what he was going to say, and it finally came to him. “I got distracted. It wasn’t me half assing it. It was just...” He closed his eyes for a moment, looking away then back at her. “I like the red but without the rest...doesn’t seem to make sense. So I just picked something else.”

At first she wasn't quite sure how to react. Because he was clearly staring at her, and she didn't think anyone had ever looked at her like that before. So, she stood there, cheeks darkening slightly. Blushing? Was not her thing. She didn't get shy, or embarrassed, or whatever the fuck it was that was happening. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, and she still felt like she was out of her depth. His words didn't make that better. "So you like the red, but you don't want me to wear it if I'm being a nice normal girl who doesn't put piercings into her arms for tonight?"

The blush drew him in step towards her, not that there was that much space to begin with, but he definitely made it smaller. “That sounds...sounds weird doesn’t it?” Mickey ducked his head, rubbing at the back of his neck and tugging at his collar. It was warmer in here wasn’t it? It had to be.

"It sounds weird for you." December told him just a little bit amused, aware of the smaller distance as he stepped up. "I'm pretty sure you're not meant to like the idea." she added, watching him give all the signs of being unsure of himself. "So, I guess you get a choice. Do you want this evening to be where I go out, and be social, and normal, and all that stuff, or do you want to see me in the red dress? Because I'm doubting both are possibilities."

That had him meeting her eyes, his narrowing just slightly. “That, the piercings and such, it doesn’t scare me,” he pointed out. “I don’t understand all of it, but you’re not running me off with it.” She wasn’t running him off with much, not looking at him like that. “If I say normal tonight do I miss out on a chance to see you in the red dress?”

"I'm gathering that." She told him, what with him imagining the ribbons on her arms to be 'pretty'. "And probably." she added, because it was true. She was still determined to get rid of him. Which, she ought to tell him. "I'm still going to be telling you to fuck off after this." she told him, stepping out of the tub even if it did bring her closer to him. She couldn't stand in there forever. She turned her back to him, then let the towel drop lower. "Unthread." she commanded.

“Why is it you’re so determined to get rid of me? And last time you told me to fuck off I came back anyway.” And he’d stayed. “I thought we were past that.” It took all his concentration to keep his hand from shaking as he went to move her hair out of the way then work out the knot on the bow of the ribbon laced into her back. “But if you’re determined for it to be my only shot, then the red.” To hell with what everyone else thought. Once the knot was loose it was easy for him to unthread the rest of the ribbon, though not without his knuckles grazing her back.

"And I said a whole lot which you totally ignored. I figure eventually you'll get tired of being told to fuck off." December told him. "I'm probably more stubborn than you are. Or, I'm betting I am. Technically, I already told you about six hundred different reasons why. It's not my fault if you weren't paying good enough attention." she added. The red. Maybe if she kept the piercings out of her face, and only did those ones, people wouldn't notice immediately. It happened. After all, people didn't expect anyone to have little rings shoved through their flesh. Despite herself, her eyes drifted shut as he unthreadded her ribbon, those light little touches against her skin felt much nicer than she wanted.

“I heard you loud and clear, I just ignored you,” Mickey corrected. “And I’m guessing I’m just as stubborn if not more. I’m not giving up on you.” He pulled the last of the ribbon away, letting out a breath that he’d been holding and handing it to her.

She pulled the towel back into place, and took the ribbon from him, turning around to face him. "In my room, in the night stand there's a lot of different spools of ribbon. Some of them are red. Pick one." she told him, watching his eyes, a clear challenge there. "There are also rings in that drawer, pick out twelve."

She was giving orders. For a moment he waited, watching her eyes, trying to figure out just where she was going with the challenge, what the point of it was. He caved eventually though, heading back into her room to find the ribbon and rings as directed. It only took two drawers before he found the right one, looking through the ribbons before he found one in red, something with a sheen to it. The rings were harder, studying options before he found twelve that matched and made his way back to the bathroom, leaning on the door frame this time.

December turned towards her reflection when he left, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Then she started to put her hair up. It was still wet, but that was alright. She had a whole lot of it. it didn't really curl or anything, so mostly it involved twisting strands up to pin, and bringing other locks down to frame her face. Then she started on he make up. She didn't normally wear a ton of it, and tonight would be no different. But she did take it slightly slower, more carefully as she put the black around her eyes. Then she picked out the darkest red lipstick she had and put it on--she was finishing up when he was back. Looking not at him but the reflection of him in the mirror, she capped her lipstick. "Got the ribbon?" she asked. "You'll need to thread my back." The red dress would leave the top part of the corset exposed. Not the full run of it, but the top. A lot of people didn't notice that either, how it wasn't 'right'. Plus her hair spilled down her back. But she knew it was there.

He was watching her mouth again. It was hard not to when she was putting on lipstick like that and Mickey had to wonder if she chose that color on purpose. “Ribbon,” he confirmed, holding it out for her to inspect. He held out the other hand for her to take the rings, needing both hands if he was going to thread up her back. The concept of doing it made him a little nervous, but he was being tested for what the could handle, which meant he needed to just suck it up and do this. Prove to her that he could do it.

She took the rings, then turned her back to him, letting the towel back down, as she held it up in front with her free hand. She didn't actually inspect the ribbon, since she'd told him to choose it for a reason. She wasn't going to go back on whatever he'd picked. Though she had noticed it was one of her nicer ribbons. So, that gave him a point for taste, at any rate.

It was slower work lacing up her back than unlacing it. Mickey’s brow creased in concentrations, not wanting to tug at the rings there too hard, but now aware that it might not bother her as much as he would have guessed. He had the length right, focused until he reached the end. “Do I tie it off?” he asked, glancing up at her reflection in the mirror.

December wasn't really aware of it, but she'd started to hold her breath when he laced her up. She kept waiting for him to pull a little. Test things, but he didn't, of course. Because he probably didn't want to hurt her or something. When he spoke, it was a little jarring--she'd been just a little in her own world. "Yes." she answered. "In a bow, please." If it was in a bow, it meant she could undo the knot herself without trouble.

He was close to tying the bow as instructed, thinking of how he tied his shoelaces for reference before he stopped. Looking back up at her, he tried to meet her eyes. “This one works the same way dosen’t it? With the pulling and it hurts?” He told himself he was trying to understand, but really he was just morbidly curious. He wanted to know more, to have her explain it.

She'd been watching him in the reflection of the mirror, so when he looked up, it wasn't hard for him to meet her eyes. Something that she internally cursed herself for. She probably should have been playing the 'disinterested' card, but she'd been watching his reactions as he threaded the rings. His question caught her a little off guard. "Yes." she answered, not sure why he was asking. "And it's a lot of different points of it. So...for someone like me, it's nice."

“And you’d want that,” Mickey said though it wasn’t really a question, more a statement, and less to her than to himself. “Even now, from me.” Which left him feeling odd. Was it in him to hurt her, even if she wanted it? He wasn’t sure at all. He didn’t hurt people. That was how he operated, but it wasn’t as if he would be hurting her without justification. But it was still on purpose. The whole ordeal had him confused and not actually tying the bow he was supposed to be tying.

She didn't answer. It was a loaded question at best, after all. And she didn't like her answer. Which was she was standing there, and he was close, and had his hands on her ribbons, and yes, actually, she did want that. There was an anticipation along her spine, as part of her was waiting for it, even if she was sure it wouldn't happen. Because he definitely was struggling with the whole thing, even if she could tell he was making the attempt to understand.

He was waiting for an answer. Mickey hadn’t even realized he’d asked a question until a moment passed and she didn’t answer. His eyes left his hands and he was looking at her in the mirror. “Yes?” he asked, a proper and intentional question this time.

Goddamnit. Why did he have to ask? Instead of answering verbally, she nodded, instead. She wasn't making herself give him the 'yes' confirmation that was on the tip of her tongue. And she really hated that she was still sort of humming with anticipation, just in case he decided to experiment. Which he wasn't going to do. But physically, she was geared up for it. He probably didn’t even realize he was being a tease at the moment.

His fingers almost flexed. He almost just pulled, just to see what would happen. He wanted to know and it was sickening him. He wanted to see how she’d react, if she’d look happy or in pain, but he knew he couldn’t do it. It was still hurting her and with all the walls she’d broken down, December hadn’t taken that down yet. There was no promise she could either. “It’s no wonder you keep telling me to fuck off,” he murmured, half to her, half to himself. He couldn’t please her, even if he he wanted to and suddenly Mickey felt more than inadequate. In order to tie the bow he had to pull at the ribbon slightly, which had him flinching as he did it, fingers tying it off once he could.

There were a few too many things going through December then. A sort of crushing disappointment she really hadn't anticipated that came with his words. She didn't know why he'd said them, what was going through his mind when he did, but she took it to mean that something was sinking in. She should have been happy about it, really wasn't prepared for feeling disappointed. And then there was the little pull at her ribbons, which got just a little, tiny, soft noise out of her. Now if it had just been a little harder, it would have been perfect. But all that flooded in with everything else left her awash in a sea of conflicting emotions.

The noise wasn’t missed, not with Mickey way too aware of everything. Without letting himself second guess it, his fingers trailed over the tattooed wings on her back. “Really?” he asked, frowning at her shoulder and himself. That was what it took, not anything else he could actually do.

He was getting brave with the touching thing. She didn't stop him, though, that part of her that had enjoyed the tug to her ribbons was liking the touch against her back, too. She was a little too aware of him where he was, right there, close. "Really." she confirmed voice quieter than she wanted it to be, even if she wasn't exactly sure what he was asking. Though she imagined he was asking about her response to the tug. That sound she'd let out. No, she hadn't been lying about the masochism thing.

Mickey didn’t like this. He didn’t like the conflict in him it was causing. He was sure of who he was even if no one else knew, he was sure of his fundamental ideals. And here he was, considering throwing them away just to hear that noise again. His hand drifted towards the base of her neck, thumb massaging the muscle between her neck and shoulder. “And if I...can’t?”

She looked down, head hanging slightly. Though it was less in response to being disappointed and more in response to his touch on her neck. He was definitely getting brave there. "Then you can't." she answered. What did he want to hear? That she'd magically be different? She wasn't going to be. It was there, it was always going to be there. But then again, she also hadn't asked him to. It was probably the biggest deal breaker asset she had on the side of 'getting Mickey to leave'.

He wasn’t sure what answer he’d been waiting for, but that felt like a let down. He was probably a let down. “Do you need anything else?” he asked, not moving his hand from her shoulder just yet, pressing his thumb against the same place again.

"What do you mean?" she asked. The question could have pertained to a lot of different things, though she was guessing he meant sexually. Still, she didn't know how to answer, even if that was the question. Did she have any other weird specifications? Not really. Just the one. "Look...I'm used to this. Okay? People want me because I can hurt them. But I never really find anyone who's willing to hurt me. Or, not anyone I would trust, anyway." She had with Eric, of course, but she wasn't even a little bit bringing him up right now. "I need to get dressed." December truly hated that her voice didn’t have the bite in it she wanted.

“I don’t want you because you hurt me,” Mickey pointed out, but pulled his hand away, shoving it into his pocket. “Well you’ve already decided you don’t trust me, so no loss there.” God, he wanted to though. He really did and it scared him. He had no desire to hurt her, but to make her happy, to give her something she wanted made him wish he could. Made it seem a lot less awful. “I’ll let you get dressed.” He took a step back, glancing up to meet her eyes in the mirror. It showed in his face, that he felt like a let down, like less of what he should be.

"I know that. I'm not talking about you." December told him. She was talking about her clients. She saw that look in his eyes, and felt bad about it. "Don't look at me like that." she said, voice again, not having the harshness in it she wanted. She wanted it to be a snapped statement, but it wasn't. "Look, you're just--normal. Don't feel bad about that, it isn’t something to be ashamed of. You're a normal guy, who likes normal things, and I'm about as far from that as you can get. I've been trying to tell you that. Do you understand, finally?" she asked, finally turning around to properly face him, adjusting the towel so she wasn't flashing him.

Mickey shook his head. “I always understood that. But I’m not just normal, not when you say it like that. It sounds boring,” he said, hating the sound of defeat in his voice. He wasn’t losing this battle. He wouldn’t let himself. “And maybe I like normal things, but I like you. That’s why I’m looking at you like that.”

"That's not what I meant. It's not 'boring'." December said, internally rolling her eyes at herself even more. Way to be disinterested. No, instead she was trying to make him feel better. But she did feel bad about it. She didn't want him to feel like that. Plus, he was just doing a very good impression of a kicked puppy, and she didn't like seeing him like that. "It's just normal. Other people would be jumping at the chance to be with a guy like you. You're sweet, and cute, and religious, and a good person, and all sorts of great qualities. I'm just...not that girl. Not the kind of girl that fits into a picture like that. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

He couldn’t stop, not when she talked like that. Shaking his head and laughed and rubbed at his face. “No, no don’t give me that blow off. Don’t tell me I’m sweet and cute and that any girl is going to come running to be with me. It’s absolute bullshit.” He let out a sigh and ducked his head so it was closer to hers, move at her eye level. “And I never asked you to be anything you aren’t. I wouldn’t.”

"You don't have to ask. What you would need is a girl who isn't anything like me." she told him. "And I already told you that I think you need to be around better people. Ones who'll show interest. Find someone who'll show interest and doesn't have a sexual response to pain." she suggested, not quite sure why he was getting closer. "There's a fundamental malfunction here. End of story."

“December, stop. I’m past hearing about what I need. You’re the second person in not enough time to give me the exact same speech. Just stop. I’m gonna figure out what I want instead.” He was close enough so that when he dared to lean in to kiss her lightly it wasn’t far to go. “Get dressed,” he told her after pulling away. “We’re gonna be late.” Maybe he should walk away, but as mixed up as everything had him feeling, walking away sounded far worse.

Being kissed wasn't exactly what she expected. And, it appeared just when she thought logic might win out--nope. It totally failed. She was a little too shocked to even try to stop the kiss, and in the end, it was over before she even had much of a chance to react. Instead she blinked, then stood straight to follow his order. Right. She'd get dressed then. They were still going. So, she grabbed her red dress, stepped into the closet, dropping the towel. She grabbed some lacy panties, black stockings, and pulled them on, followed by the dress. When she came back out, she headed to get the rings, sitting on the counter in the bathroom as she pulled the needle nose pliers out of the medicine cabinet. Then she started work on her arms, putting the rings in where the faint scars from previous piercings were.

Mickey hadn’t expected her to just do what he said, even less that she didn’t seem pissed about it. Maybe he was seeing things, but she’d almost seemed amused when she disappeared into the closet and he went back to the door frame, leaning against it and fighting the urge to loosen his tie. They weren’t even there yet and he was considering dressing down to his normal look. When she came back out he watched her from where he was, head tilted as the took in the process. It seemed easy, the way she just worked the metal into her skin. “You make it look easy.”

"It isn't actually hard." she told him, aware of his eyes on her. "Just...have to have the right spot, and I know how deep to set the piercing. It's actually pretty simple, it's just not something most people do on purpose." she explained, cinching the metal rings shut when she was satisfied she had them where she wanted them. Then she started on the other side. It was actually mostly bloodless, the procedure. Sure, there was some, but really not nearly as much as most people expected. She did it with practiced ease, making short work of it.

It was a little alarming to watch, but at the same time, he was fascinated with it. “No, it’s not,” Mickey agreed. As she finished he reached for the ribbon, moving in closer to her and holding it out, but not for her to take. He guessed she’d need help lacing her arms up as well and he was determined to do it. It wasn’t much but it was something.

She could actually manage the ribbons herself, but in this case, since he was stepping up, she didn't tell him that. Instead, she just held out her arms a little, the few little traces of blood sliding down the sides of her arms. It was only a few drops, and she wasn't paying attention to them, instead she was paying attention to him.

It was impossible not to notice her eyes on him, but Mickey was focused on the task in front of him. He took one arm, watching his hands as he worked the laces in place. He wasn’t as supremely gentle this time. It wasn’t the tugging that she wanted, but he was far less concerned with any pull needing to be avoided. He made quick work of both arms, tying bows at the ends like he had on her back. Finding a tissue on the bathroom counter he dabbed at the dripped blood, wiping up the worst of it.

As she watched him, she definitely noticed that he wasn't as gentle. And, a couple times, with the very fresh piercings and all, she made another soft sound. She didn't instruct him at all, letting him lace things however he wanted. When he was finished, she was about to wipe up the blood, but he beat her to it. She let him, not actually commenting on it at all. It was curious, the process with his involvement.

The sounds almost got to him, each one sending a thrill up his back. It was hard to justify in his mind which had Mickey trying his damnedest to ignore it. Feeling like he’d finished the job he stepped back, trying to take all of her in at once. Nodding a little, he smiled. “Pretty.”

She smirked faintly, taking the rest of the ribbon. She cut another length off, and put it in her hair, then stepped back and spun around. "That's what you're supposed to wait for." she said. "The presentation spin." she turned back towards him. "So--worth it? Or do I go put on the purple dress and go for 'normal'?" she asked, giving him one more chance there.

He leaned against the door frame again as she spun and smiled more. “Very worth it,” he agreed as he took her hand. “I don’t want ‘normal’. I like this just fine.”

She internally sighed as he took her hand and said that. She didn't really believe him. Or, she thought he meant it, but would discover that wasn't the case soon enough. But she didn't say anything. Nope. Right now, they were going to be going and fulfilling the whim. And the whim said she was going to be social. Social, and nice to him, and all that. So, she was starting right now. "Then get me out of here, prince charming, before I change my mind." she told him, though it was more playful than acidic.

That had him laughing again, tucking her hand in his arm as he led the way. He wasn’t prince charming by any means, which meant he fully realized the comment wasn’t meant to charm him, more to irk at him, but the tone wasn’t right for anything more than his smile. “As the lady wishes,” he promised.