"I can see that," replied Daphne, matching socks from end to end before placing them on the ground and rolling them up together. "How do you find things? It must take you forever just to find a pair of clean trousers. Speaking of which, I don't suppose you own a nice pair of jeans? Jeans go well with--" He was petting her. Patting her own head, she twisted slightly to peer up at him suspiciously. Whaaat--"Thank you. Your hair is...it's...um. It's...there."

Right. Good compliment. Back to clothes. Daphne began to pile all his shirts on her lap, leaving the candy inside the trunk for now. If Celandine or Garret saw the contents of the chest they'd think they'd hit the jackpot and run off with their booty....because that's what pirates did.

Pillage. And burn. Maybe she could get them to burn the hat and boxers too.

"I have jeans. They're in there somewhere.... or maybe under my bed. I didn't check under there. It's scary under there," Plymouth assured Daphne with vehement nods. Boy, was it. He had.... stuff... under there. Like pictures. He never went under there.


"You've kind of got a hopeless look on your face, Daphadil. And... aren't you curious who my date is? You didn't ask. For all you know, it could be you."

Folding. Folding. Folding. Shaking her head. "I don't want to know what's under your bed and I really don't want to know who your date is," confessed Daphne honestly, placing the pile of shirts in a corner and pushing all the candy, with some effort to the other side. "I'm pretty certain it isn't me." She hadn't agreed to a date with Plymouth Morgan.

Had she? She blinked. "Alright," she sighed finally. "I suppose I might be a little curious. Who is your date? Same house? House elf? Grindylow? That girl in Hufflepuff with the crooked nose?"

"You're pretty certain? You're not surrrrrrre?" Plymouth nudged her with his elbow. He gave her that LOOK - that questioning sort of look that made him look a lot like his momma.


"You know me better than to think I'd date ANY creature." Shudder. "And I like pretty girls. With pretty hair and good smells." Plymouth sniffed Daphne then to assess her smell.


"Hmmm. Hehe." He didn't TELL her. Yet. Plymouth was so UGH EXCITED about his date. But... he didn't tell.

Frowning, Daphne peered closer at Plymouth's face. She'd have to judge his facial expression to see if he was lying to her. "I'm suuuuure," she assured even though there was a bit of doubt in her tone of voice. "Yes, I would hope you'd like pretty girls who smell good, Morgan," she murmured as she inched away from him, his nose growing ever closer.

Instinctively, she reached out and placed her hand on his face to keep him away. "So, who is she?" demanded the blond even as Morgan Hehe'd into her palm. "You brought it up and now you're not telling meeeee."

Cue imaginary foot stomp.

"If I did ask you though, you'd say no. Because of,' Plymouth made faces into her palm and waved his hands around manically. "... that other stuff." That they weren't talking about. "I'd ask though, if you'd say yes. I'd take you out." Plymouth tried to nom her fingers a little so she'd stop smushing his face.


"Evolette. McKenna. She's a Slytherin. She thinks I'm pretty in pink."

"That's a given," she replied immediately, taking possession of his nose between her fingers. Frowning heavily, Daphne scoffed in surprise. She knew Evolette or more like she knew of Evolette. Knew enough in any case. "If you're going out with Evolette McKenna why even consider asking me out?"

The boy was clearly out of his mind; which explained the hat--and the boxers. "Wear jeans," she instructed bossily. "Everyone looks good in jeans and--well, if she likes pink," sighed Daphne in resignation. "Wear a pink shirt. I doubt what you wear really matters," finished the blond with a small laugh.

Honestly, if McKenna had agreed to a date with him there must have been something she saw that she liked, right? Girls didn't just agree to go on dates for fun.

Right? "She'll like you either way just fine."

"Is it a given?" Plymouth asked, clearly testing her. WHY was it a given? They were friends, too... So why not? He was still trying very hard to nom her fingers, but it wasn't going well with her holding his nose.

"Because we'd have fun, too. You can dress me for that date, too. I'll wear the hat for you." Plymouth "hehe'd" but... let it go after he answered her. She didn't want to, then she didn't want to.

But the offer still stood.



"She said I was a boy that could wear pink. And you're seconding that notion. THat doesn't make me... girly .... right? Professor V isn't going to give me manly lessons for wearing pink - right? It's manly on me?" Plymouth pondered flexing for her again. He would have, but he was kind of MELTY at the She'll like you either way just fine comment. He even stopped trying to NOM her hand to just stare back at her. That was a ....sweet thing to say.

Daphne gave Plymouth's nose one last squeeze before she released them. There was no point in explaining the million or so reasons why a date with him would be just a terrible terrible idea. Plus he was flexing again and her eyes, whether her brain willed it or not, were forcing her to pay attention. "You could roll around in pink glitter and still look manly, Morgan." He just had that masculine quality about him. Like Lumberjacks.

And Lion Tamers.

And he was staring. Blinking back at him, Daphne wrinkled her nose. "What? What's wrong? What?"

Did he not like the idea of wearing pink? "You don't have to wear pink if you don't have to. Wear red." Red was always nice.

"Nothing is wrong," Plymouth shook his head at her. "Nothing. Just.. that was ... really nice. Or, I guess, I like that you think that. About me. Clothes seem important to you. And girls." Plymouth probably didn't own a single piece of clothing that came from a store that was new. Who knew where his clothes came from, but he didn't buy new ones.

Hence him being worried about what to wear on his date.


But if Daphne said not to worry, then Plymouth wouldn't worry. "I'll .. I know a pink-making charm." That he'd learned from, no doubts, the ex-girlfriend. "Pick me out a shirt? And I'll make it pink and model it for you."


Plymouth Morgan needed to practice his modeling skills for Evolette anyway.

Finally coming to a realization, Daphne shook her head. Plymouth Morgan would be someone she could never fully understand. They way his mind worked, and the way he expressed himself didn't particularly make sense in her head. But he was a good boy, as anyone who liked gardening should be.

"What's this?" she giggled handing him navy colored shirt. "Since when do you model? I thought you spent your days protecting tree's rights." And Hehe-ing about Hogwarts, spinning girls he found along his way in his arms. That seemed like activities he would enjoy.

Instead he was here, in the middle of a creepy armor infested corridor on his knees proposing to model pink shirts.

Indeed, she would never understand the way Plymouth Morgan's brain ticked.

Plymouth snatched the shirt from Daphne as he got up. He disappeared behind one of the larger armor things to try the shirt on. "I .. model. I catwalk. I'll show you - in two secs. Evolette likes it. You'll have to tell me if you do, too." Plymouth pinkified his shirt and got things all buttoned up and the sleeves rolled up like he liked.


He checked himself out in the reflection of the armor before doing his strut to show Daphne the shirt. Strut - turn - post. "What do you think? And be honest."

Plymouth was pretty sure Daphne WAS honest most of the time. But.. sometimes it came out wrong. Plymouth was so sure she meant well.

Hmmm!

Daphne pursed her lips thoughtfully before turning to arrange Plymouth's candy according to color and size. "I think...you should probably not do that hoppity hop thing you do when you strut."

Plymouth grinned at Daphne over his shoulder before turning around to check out the pink shirt in the reflection again. "Yeah? Makes me look dumb? Or like your duck? Hehe..."


Why on earth ANYONE would have a pet with a beak and webbed feet was beyond Plymouth. But, then, he'd also dated a girl that kept a scorpion in her shirt.

And he'd loved her. His favoritest girl in the whole wide world.


Plymouth shook his head roughly to get those thoughts out of his head. He replaced them with EVOLETTE MCKENNA thoughts. The snow in her hair. Her pouting. The fairy twirls. Better. Better. "Hey Daphadil?"

"Like a duck. Precisely like a duck," repeated Daphne with firm nods, glad Plymouth had caught on to her secretive thoughts. Like a duck's waddling butt, to be specific but she wasn't about to compare Morgan's posteriors with a duck butt.

Not out loud, anyways.

"Yes, Plymouth?"

"Thanks. You know, for coming to meet me here. And dressing me. And... for folding my clothes." Though, that last part was totally unnecessary. "I know things are messy, but I'm glad you're still my friend, too. Did you know that I LIKED you? It would have hurt my heart if you hadn't come." Truth truth truth. Plymouth spent the next few minutes adjusting how many times he'd fold the sleeves up. Hmm.


"Would you roll the sleeves?" He coudn't fold them properly, not with just one hand, but she could probably get the gist of where he was going with the sleeve thing.

It was official. There was no way going around it or explaining it differently. As she suddenly stood up, dusting off her red knees, Daphne nodded once. Plymouth Morgan unnerved her terribly. Blushing, she walked up to him and began rolling up his sleeves, folding meticulously so it didn't look like he just scrunched them up before digging a hole in the grounds. "I would never want to hurt your heart, Plymouth. You're a good person and you like to garden. And you do smell nice."

Well, he did.

Plymouth's face broke out into one of those really rare-these-days smiles, one that went all the way up to his eyes. One like he'd had when twirling with Evolette. "Likewise, Miss Hopton. Likewise. Hehe."


...


"So where do you want me to take you?"

Having finished rolling up his other sleeve, Daphne held both of Plymouth's forearms in her hands. "Don't you want to put your trunk away first? You know," she leaned in towards his chest, momentarily cursing the height difference. "I don't want to sound like a horrible person but with the Hufflepuff and Slytherin common room being flooded it's not very smart to leave your belongings about."

"See? I knew it wasn't a given." Plymouth didn't do much moving though. Daphne spent half their time together trying to bat him away, so... this was a nice change of pace. And Plymouth was going to enjoy every second. He was SOOoo unconcerned for his stuff. It was just clothes and stuff. Plymouth's mind was racing on what sort of places and activities Daphne would enjoy doing with him.


People watching on a bench in Hogsmeade? With cocoa? Hmm. He grinned at the very thought.

Daphne blinked before releasing Plymouth's arms immediately. Gasping loudly, she took several steps back, pushing her upturned palms back and forth in the process, nearly colliding with Morgan's trunk. "You! Youuuu," exclaimed the blond, her cheeks turning hot pink. "You tricked me!"

He was so not a good boy anymore! "Oh...Oh," she whined shaking her head. This couldn't end well.

Plymouth instinctively reached for Daphne when she went spastic and nearly toppled over his trunk. Just as she'd been holding his forearms, he caught hers and steadied her.


... but then she was making that noise and whining and shaking her head at him?? Plymouth deflated. He lost his grin and happy visions of people watching with marshmallow mustaches. It was the verge of heart hurt. "I wasn't aiming to trick you. I thought you were just afraid to say yes, so I ... phrased it so you didn't have to say it."

Sag. It was going to be fun, too..

Daphne averted her hazel eyes elsewhere. Anywhere. Everywhere but on Plymouth's face. The wall behind him was particularly interesting with the cobweb shaped like Iceland. The stained armor looked might amusing as well. What had someone scribbled on it? GIRLS SH--"Here's the thing Plymouth. It's not as simple as you think." It really wasn't and oh. Oh.

Oh. No. No. Awwww! No. He was doing that: 'I just got kicked!' face again, the same face he had made back in the Bamboo Forest the time Tino thought it would be funny to pass off as Magical Panda with ESP Abilities. "It's...It's..." This was probably not a good time to bring up Celandine. Kick a guy while he's down, why don't you Hopton? "I like you. You're my friend. A very good friend."

But he was making her head spin. "Friends go to places, right?"

"Friends go places. Friends.... go... out. To places," Plymouth agreed, slowly. He searched her face for.... something. She really didn't want to? Really? Plymouth had thought she DID but was just being Daphne.


But now he just wasn't so sure. He didn't find that - thing - he'd been looking for in her eyes.


"It's okay, Daphadil. You can say no. But I'd like to take you places. There's marshmallows involved." Plymouth shrugged his shoulders and sunk his hands deep in his pockets.

Ouch. Shutting her eyes, Daphne shrugged, sinking slightly into her shoulders with pink cheeks. "Marshmallows? You should have said so earlier," she joked, or attempted to, peeking at Plymouth with one eye not trusting herself not to agree to everything he said if she kept seeing that sad look in his eyes. "I'll go anywhere with you if there's marshmallows."

She hated marshmallows.