For one irritating moment, Nathan looked on the verge of laughing.
Fortunately, he quickly seemed to pick up on the seriousness of the situation, and began solemnly pondering a solution. "The night she gave me this suit, a pink tux was the first thing she thought of," he explained slowly. "I think she wanted to make me a suit to match her dress, socks and all. And those socks are kind of awesome, but the rest of it, not so much.”
The thought of Nathan sliding around Newcago in a pair of rainbow stockings was both hilarious and mildly unsettling. Sam wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.
“Just try talking to her," Nathan went on, smiling encouragingly. "That’s what I did. Don’t get angry, and don’t tell her you don’t like what she made for you, but….you know, try suggesting a few changes. The whole reason I got something I could live with is because she liked what I picked. Be nice, but—“
Sam was hanging on to every word, but his words of wisdom were interrupted by a familiar voice. A voice that managed to be irritatingly gooey even in mid-yawn.
"Nathan?"
Nathan's guide to not being murdered or humiliated by Doctor Funtimes was interrupted by the psycho in pink herself, standing in the doorway with an air of grogginess about her. Nathan immediately tried to divert her attention with talk of breakfast, but her eyes were already locked her prey.
“Sammy?" she asked, voice confused--and maybe a touch accusing. "I made you a dress—didn’t you find it?”
Sam blinked, looked down at her towel, and grinned back at her captor nervously. "Oh, yeah, of course I found it!"
Found it utterly detestable, that is.
"It's great," she lied, shooting Nathan a glance. He gave her an encouraging smile, so she took a deep breath and continued.
"It's just... don't you think it's a little girly? You know... not really my style?"
And by that, what I really mean is "designed by a psychotic four year-old whose mother is too scared of her to veto her dress decisions."
Instead of speaking those words, which would probably have her towel changed to acid before she could finish the word 'psychotic,' she flipped through her memory for gothic-inspired dresses. She'd seen a few, and while she was hardly an expert from the single goth magazine she had stashed back at home, the word "Lolita" came to mind.
Funtimes was looking increasingly confused and hurt by the second. "Pink's awesome," Sam said hurriedly, "but I was hoping for something more subtle. And simple. And... not so lacey. Maybe... something black with pink highlights?"
She finished with a hopeful smile, not quite making eye contact with the Doctor but keeping her gaze in her general direction. While also suppressing her wondering how long she'd survive if she dropped her towel and ran off into the woods to live on berries and roots.
Sparks. If an Epic kills me, I'd rather it be over something more important than a dress.