[hr][h1][i][color=a187be]Lucille Hartigan.[/color][/i][/h1][hr]
Lucille was uncomfortable with her dress, which left half of her thigh naked—a paranoia she usually had when wearing any dress, or skirt—and, between a slight tug and another, she was trying to unsuccessfully hide her skinny legs. She was no Marilyn Monroe, nor a girl willing to come face to face with some breeze of a passing ninja subway, her legs could be delicate but she didn't like to show to everyone. She even tried to imagine she in [i]The Seven Year Itch[/i], only to caught the attention of a few people that was passing in front of her, turning in embarrassment her silent laught. 

She was wearing the famous "Hartigan's party outfit," a black halter dress followed by sneakers of the same color. The most that her mother could made she wear. Nothing too formal, but that was [i]her[/i] outfit; Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Year, any event is Hartigan's party outfit Day. And there she was, the uneasy girl with the dress, waiting for Trevor. And all the thinking about Trevor was confused to her, Trevor was... Well... in a parallel universe she'd be happier with a "Trevina". 
			
Lucille ran her finger on her phone screen, drawing the initial of her name with her thumb. [i]Where the hell is Trevor[/i], she thought as she looked at the clock. She tried to control the discomfort but everything was new to her; and Trevor was as a guide for her in Verthaven, as well as her brother was in Black Fall. Without him she's just a blind woman in a shooting. 

[color=a187be]"Trevor!"[/color] Lucille tried not to shout too loud, waving at him. There he was, with bloody jeans. [i]Why I didn't thought about that?[/i] She sighed, knowing it was too late to change her looks.