At first glance, the figure appeared to be a perky, trendy- albeit tall, teenaged girl. One had only to look at the cute pink skirt, for example- pleated, short, and bouncy, in the schoolgirl way, or the sparkles liberally sprayed onto dark hair, to know. How many people outside of /that/ group would be wearing socks reminicient of legwarmers, anyway? On second look, the more discerning observer might have been drawn to speculate at the broadness of the figure's shoulders, or the androgynity of the chest, which was rather, well, flat. The tiny waist though, had to belong to a girl, and with the length of the skirt, who was going to be looking elsewhere? Luce took another unsteady step forward, flailing at the air in an effort to keep his balance. "Damn heels." He muttered. The blush on his cheeks grew brighter, threatening to turn his entire face red. "What?!" He snapped at Aoi, who happened to be closest to him. "It's not funny, you know. I fail to see anything in this situation that could be remotely construed as humorous- and you are all mean, evil people," He said, as George and Sade too took good looks at him and promptly started laughing. "I mean, if George here hadn't tricked me into making that rigged bet with him, or Sade hadn't forced me to keep it, I wouldn't be here wearing these, these-" Words failed Luce then, as he gestured at himself in total disgust. "Nevermind," He said to himself. "I'll just hurry up and get this silly dare over and done with." He stepped forward again, wary of the questionable balance on the chunky platform sandals they had forced his feet into- then had to stop and clutch his skirts as a gust of wind sent the hems flying dangerously skyward. "Stop laughing at me!" He told his companions. Luce's face /had/ turned bright red. "Your own fault for choosing such a short skirt." Aoi, who was the only one reasonably straight-faced, told him. "Really. Weren't you the one who said that cute girly young boys should wear cute girly young boy clothes?" Luce lunged at the shaman, heels forgotten, and made as if to strangle him. Fortunately for Aoi, the wind chose that moment to come to his rescue, catching Luce off guard with a brief gust. Aoi raised an eyebrow at Luce. Although he'd been the one to provide the garments for Luce- from the stash that the taller, older boy himself had bought for him as a gag birthday gift, the older man had insisted on being alone when he changed. "Really now." Aoi said. "I didn't know you liked l-" "I hate the wind!" ---- When her laughter had more or less spent itself, Sade calmed down to ask Aoi, "Where on earth did you get all those.. garments? I mean, they're cute, but they're harldly like what you wear normally." Aoi looked down at his plain, off-white tunic. "You're right, it isn't." He agreed. "But Luce bought those for me, so I figure it's only right that he, uh, tastes the fruit of his labor." They turned to Luce, who was literally squirming where he stood as George walked around him, studying him with what seemed like an expression of great interest. Finally he stopped. "Luce, old boy," George said in tones of almost reverence, "Did you stuff those?" Aoi snickered. "Oh, I think it adds to the verisimilitude," Sade said. Luce merely stood, blushing beet red. For once he was at an utter loss for words. "Now for the second part of the bet." Luce squeaked. "Do I really have to?"