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The tuxedo.
The height of masculine fashion, some might say.
Watching her giant of a boyfriend struggle with his bowtie, Marianne was inclined to agree. It was of an older style, a preference which seemed to run in the family, but it suited his lanky form well. He’d certainly spent far more time and effort on it than she had on her own outfit.
In spite of how loudly she’d clomped up the stairs, Sam had yet to notice her arrival. Probably because she was five minutes early. Marianne did hate to be anything but perfectly punctual, but it had started to rain on the walk over — only four blocks, to both their surprise some months ago — and she’d forgotten her umbrella. Being a magical girl did have some benefits, though, which was why she was still in costume when, having taken in enough of the view, she snuck up to plant a peck on Sam’s cheek.
After a moment of surprise he pulled her into an embrace, creating quite the contrast. While the gilded edges of Sam’s tux spoke to a Magocracy period inspiration, her MG outfit emulated a style many centuries older with its breastplate over a poofy shirt and pantaloons in seven different patterns of raucous blues and white. She’d skipped the frost coated sword that stood a head taller than even Sam, though.
“You’re * early *,” he ribbed, planting a reciprocal kiss on her forehead.
“And you’re hopeless, Sammy.” Not just because of the bowtie, which she busied her hands tying properly as they pulled apart, but also because he could never disguise when something was weighing on his mind.
He could tell when she was prodding him, though, moving his hands to her shoulders. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay tonight? I know you don’t like crowds.”
“I managed fine last year,” Marianne answered, only half lying.
In truth, she’d spent half of last prom hiding in the garden. Perhaps that was why she was still hiding in her armor. Sam didn’t buy it, of course, and she could see the worry in his eyes. She knew Sam would throw away all the effort that went into tonight in a heartbeat and turn this into an overdressed movie night if she said she couldn’t handle it, but she didn’t want to see it wasted. No, not just that. * She wanted tonight, too* .
Decision made, her armor disappeared to reveal the bun she’d made of her wavy, navy mane and her low back — chosen to accentuate the back scars she liked — silver dress. She’d worn it last year, actually, though the long gloves hiding the scar running down her right forearm were a new addition, but Sam had just missed seeing her in it the first time. He certainly appreciated it now, and she did a little twirl to show off before nestling into his side.
“Besides, that was without a tree to shelter under.” A favorite little joke of hers, playing on both Sam’s height and surname. “It’s almost time to go, if we want to catch the next tram,” she added, glancing at her watch.
“Just a couple things.” The first was a large umbrella slash walking stick, probably plucked straight from his dad’s antique shop downstairs, and the second was… Sam plopped a tophat on his head, just slightly off kilter, and beamed down at her. Marianne couldn’t help but break out laughing at the sight.
Well, if he was going to lean into it… Marianne put on her best haughty tone and asked, “shall we depart, Lord Birch?”
“Why, I simply cannot refuse you, Lady Klein,” Sam responded in kind.
And so they did, laughter following them down onto the street.
They ended the night back where they began: In Sam’s loft.
Overall prom had actually been a fun experience this year, Sam had done an admirable job jumping between distracting her and distracting everyone from her (his plan from the start, almost certainly) and she’d only had to retreat to someplace quiet a few times. Still, Marianne was completely exhausted mentally, she was in no state to patrol.
Which was just as well, because neither were her teammates. Kaylee evidently hadn't learned her lesson and snuck in even more alcohol this year. Julianne, at least, could still walk straight. Barely. Which meant Magical Girls Cold Lead and Cold Iron were out of commission. They’d seen the two of them to the former’s place safely, Juli had said she didn’t want to listen through one of mom’s lectures, again, and she undoubtedly wanted to enjoy her girlfriend’s company.
Marianne could agree on both points, which was why, instead of going home, she was sprawled out across her boyfriend and his couch alike watching some trashy vampire movie, tophat clinging resolutely to her head. Sam had been gently stroking her back for twenty minutes and she was immensely comfortable, but such a moment couldn’t last as, distantly, the doorbell rang. “Food must be here,” Sam intoned. Unfortunately, that meant Marianne had to get up, and she made her displeasure about that clear. Alas, her mumblings had little effect, for they both knew she’d feel better with cheap takeout in her hands.
Left to herself and her thoughts, Marianne looked to her purse and the small, black box that had been burning a hole in it for almost four months, since the day after her eighteenth birthday. Inside was a question and a simple gold band.
And that begat another question, one that had haunted her these months.
Was tonight the right time?