[ As Steve senses Angel's hesitation, he glances slowly between the little yellow dress and the little green nymph. ]
You sure? You're allowed to hate a color. [ Very tentatively, he folds it over his arm. ] For me, it's orange. Traffic cone orange-orange.
[ He intends for the maybe pile to get much bigger, anyway, as sooner rather than later he's holding up something else for her inspection, with no comment other than a cheeky smirk.
no subject
You sure? You're allowed to hate a color. [ Very tentatively, he folds it over his arm. ] For me, it's orange. Traffic cone orange-orange.
[ He intends for the maybe pile to get much bigger, anyway, as sooner rather than later he's holding up something else for her inspection, with no comment other than a cheeky smirk.
It's got lace.
The dress, not the smirk. ]