But I don't even own a tie

it's been quite the hectic day for the aphrodite cabin - everyone rushing around to get their outfits for the dance ready, campers coming in for advice, all the usual pre-dance meltdowns. gin has been on helping duty for the better part of the evening - she had already had daddy mail her the nice vintage flapper dress she had bought a few years ago on a whim.

gin looks up from where she's been idly reading vogue when she hears the door open, and, oh, this one definitely needs help, she can tell before he even says it.

"over here," she calls out to him - the rest of her cabin mates either look too exhausted to help out, or too busy trying to figure out something to wear themselves to help out. "what'd you need help with?"

gin nearly feels offended, honestly. she's done costumes for her school's theater department for years, not dressing to theme is a crime. "jeans and a t-shirt? to a roaring 20's dance? i think a gatsby themed outfit would suit the event much better."

she stands up off of her bunk, brushes down any wrinkles in her skirt - it was givenchy, she couldn't go around getting wrinkles in a givenchy skirt - and walks all the way around the boy, thinking deeply. he doesn't seem the type to own a suit, much less a vintage, 20s style suit, but she can't just let this poor soul go to the dance without anything appropriate to wear. there must have been some scene from the movie where gatsby's not wearing a suit.

"aha!" she says, coming to a stop in front of him. "there's a scene in the newest gatsby film, he's wearing a cream sweater, maybe something along those lines? i can't quite remember what he wore it with, but i suppose it could be worn with jeans, if need be." gin tries not to wrinkle her nose too much at the thought.

she takes a second to glance up at his hair, which is kept awfully short. "a side part was quite the common hairstyle for men in those days with the hair slicked down, maybe something along the lines of that?"

gin winces, realizing how, well. how rude and snobby she must have sounded. "sorry, i didn't mean to sound b*tchy. i'm big on costume design, sometimes i can't help it. horribly bad habit, really." she smiles in a way she hopes comes off as kindly - she knows how bad first impressions can ruin things like that, sometimes.

gin kneels down by her trunk, unlocks it and sorts through until she finds where she keeps her pale clothes. "i always try to buy nice clothes for my friend, aidan, but he has a bad habit of leaving them at my house. i know i bought him something like that."

it takes a while, but finally she finds the cream sweater. she winces when she sees the state of her trunk, but she can go back to color-coordinating it after she helps out this young fellow.

"what's your name, by the way? i don't think you told me. i'm gin quirke," she says conversationally as she hands him the sweater. "go try that on, it should fit - it was pretty large on aidan. if not i can try to get some alterations done before tonight, and once we get the sweater out of the way we can work on your hair."

"nice to meet you, evander," she says with a smile in his direction.

she then turns her attention back to the sweater, looking at the fit of it. "the fit looks nice to me. how does it feel? is it comfortable enough to wear all night? if not, i could probably get some modifications done before the dance - i've already got  my dress ready." she gestures back towards her bunk, where she's got a mannequin set up with her full costume.