It didn't take long for Samantha to be entirely sure that her protest was falling on deaf ears. Instead, she felt Nadya's gaze turn on her with sympathy, and it made Samantha squirm to know that her situation was entirely known to her boss. She knew she was paid more than fairly by Nadya, but that still didn't make her situation easier. Sure, she was finding that she had enough money to pay rent and such, but extras like clothing were a luxury that she was unable to afford herself. Still, despite that, she wasn't completely comfortable with the idea of her boss knowing just how poor she was, just as she wasn't comfortable with Aiden knowing it either. She'd squirmed at taking him home with her the night she'd been injured, and had been even more so when she'd first gotten into his car. "Nadya..." The young woman started, though again she was cut off by Nadya's words confirming that she knew precisely that money was something Samantha didn't have. Samantha's gaze fell towards the floor of the car, her confidence fading at the girl's words. They made sense, yes, that she would need to dress in nicer clothes to be the Acting Manager of the burlesque, but she couldn't help but think that the whole act was rather more like charity than necessity.

"Sure," Samantha said meekly as she did as she was told, opening the car door and sliding out of the vehicle. She followed Nadya towards the store, her hands sliding into the pockets of her hoodie in a rather obvious display of nervousness. Even in her human life, the store that Nadya led her into was rather upscale for what she would have ever been able to afford. Samantha let her gaze fall on the racks of clothing as Nadya spoke to the clerk. Even Samantha wasn't blind; she could tell the clothes were absolutely gorgeous. She moved forward to let her fingers drift over the delicate fabric of the navy blue dress on the hanger. She longed to try it on, but before she could even vocalize that she enjoyed the outfit, Nadya was motioning her forward and Samantha felt obliged to follow her.

"You really don't have to do this," Samantha said, though her voice lacked any real sentiment. She was too enamored with the racks of expensive, beautiful clothing. They were clothes she was sure she could never comfortably wear. "I wouldn't even know how to wear these kind of clothes. You do know that I only own one pair of shoes, right?" She looked down at the worn red Converse high tops she'd had since before her change. Samantha merely looked up as the girl questioned her size, and Samantha shrugged slightly. "Um, I was a size six before my change. I assume I'm still the same." She stood up straighter as her companion held up an outfit to her, immediately shaking her head. "No yellow," She said, repeating something her mother had told her once in her younger years. "My mother always said that blondes shouldn't wear yellow. I've always hated the color because of it." It was the first time in years that she'd mentioned her family, and it caused a pang of sadness to pull at her.

Immediately though, Nadya was complimenting the girl's figure and causing a blush to creep in Samantha's cheeks at the mention of her boyfriend. The only time that Aiden had come to the burlesque, she'd been sure to change into her street clothes. She hardly felt comfortable in the revealing clothes as it was, and she was sure she didn't want Aiden to see her in the revealing clothes. The mention of showing off her legs to the man made her squirm in nervousness. "I don't know that I..." She started, but was immediately cut off by the woman thrusting articles of clothing into her arms. Samantha hardly had time to react before Nadya turned her around and thrust her into a dressing room with the command to try on the outfits.

I'll humor her. Samantha had found herself thinking as she stepped into the dressing room. She put the clothes down gently, sifting through them to find the least offensive article of clothing â€" or rather, the cheapest. She'd try it on, say that she didn't like the fit or that it didn't look good on her, and would spend the rest of the time pretending to say the same thing to each outfit. Nadya, however, seemed to know her well and immediately thwarted her plan by insisting she'd need to see all of the outfits. Internally, Samantha groaned. Still, she didn't disobey. She tugged her own clothes off, depositing them into a pile before she picked up the first of the outfits that Nadya had picked out for her. Despite her protests, she didn't hesitate as she pulled the white top over her head, the red skirt following suit.

"Oh," Samantha whispered to herself as she turned, looking at herself in the mirror. She still looked like an eighteen-year-old woman, but the crop top and skirt made her look less like a gangly teenager. She stood in front of the mirror, rocking back and forth slightly to make the skirt swish around her legs. She looked almost... pretty. She played with her hair as she stood in front of the mirror, trying to smooth out the tangles. She pulled it back in a ponytail, holding it with her fingers to see what the look would be. Then, she moved her hair up into a bun before she finally let it fall down her back. She smiled to herself, finding her thoughts drifting to what Aiden would think of the outfit. It was different than what she was used to, but would he think she looked pretty?

She jumped slightly as she heard Nadya's words, bringing her crashing back to the present and instead of lost in her thoughts of her boyfriend. "Err," She stuttered out, moving quickly to back away from the mirror and head to the door. She opened the door nervously, stepping out gently. "You can laugh if you want," She said, her voice entirely vulnerable as she stood in the doorway. She let her fingers roam over the fabric, smoothing it down before they came to rest on her bare stomach. "I can't possibly look okay in this, Nadya. I feel..." She let her voice trail off. She'd loved the outfit in the privacy of the dressing room, but now she felt entirely exposed and scared.

Samantha Cassidy