Gwen was rapidly regretting her decision to go to prom.
Sure, there was food, and it was her only chance, but it was really hot in her dress. At least it was kind of pretty; a floor-length, black velvet dress with white fringe on the arms, the neckline and the base. A white corsage was placed over her right breast. She'd also let her hair flow down to her shoulders.
It was...unusual, for sure, but Gwen loved it. It was beautiful, and elegant and old-fashioned and she thought she looked really nice. Gwen just wished she wasn't overheating in it. It was pretty hot with all the people, and Gwen wasn't exactly a cool person. She gazed briefly at the other dresses; they were a menagerie of colorful, spiraling fabric, waving gently with the movements of their bearers.
She was nervous about entering the dance area, due to her utter lack of foot coordination. So, she found herself standing awkwardly in the doorway. She smiled over at Maynard. Wow, he was tiny; even shorter than she was.
"So, shall we enter?"
((Maynard Hurst continued from Uhm))
Maynard really hadn't thought his plan for Prom through.
He'd been caught up in the whole idea of the event, the asking of a date, the purchasing of a corsage, the panicked choosing between a black bowtie or a red one...so when it came to standing by the doors of the venue, Gwen beside him in her lovely gown, the realities of the situation finally hit him.
He had to dance.
Well, he didn't have to. There would be plenty of others who would linger by the food tables and walls, but if Gwen wanted to dance...he wasn't exactly going to say no. The very fact that she had accepted his proposal seemed a miracle enough, and he didn't want to risk doing anything that might offend her.
They must've looked odd to everybody else. Gwen might've only been two inches taller than him, but his height was diminutive enough that two inches was a considerable difference.
He tugged on his collar. It was so stiff, and the tight way his mother had tied his dark bowtie wasn't helping much either. His outfit of a blanched dress shirt and striped ivy-green waistcoat with a white boutonnière threaded through the topmost buttonhole didn't exactly match Gwen's, but he thought it didn't clash with it either.
Gwen smiled as she queried whether they should enter. He liked her smile; he needed to get her to do it more often. Somehow.
"Yeah, sure! I uh...I mean, what do you wanna do? I mean..."
He trailed off, and began to wring his hands together.
"You look very pretty, Gwen. That dress really suits you."
She looked a little flustered as well. He couldn't tell if it was nerves, or heat, so he decided to see if it persisted before making any inquiries into it.