Miss Morgan

Fifty

July 1899
-Ivy-

The hair stylist rips a comb through my hair and I quietly want to cry like a damn baby every time I think she rips out another chunk of hair. I glance over at Molly who looks perfectly at ease, more relaxed than I've seen her in months. "How are you enjoying this?" I grit my teeth as the stylist yanks my scalp and apologizes for the hundredth time.

"I used to have my hair done professionally every mornin' back in Ireland." Molly shrugs. "Maybe if you actually brushed your hair every day it wouldn't be so tangly."

"Dang, okay noted." I grumble. I know I don't put a lot of effort into my appearance but damn.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Molly mutters.

"It's fine."

"Thank you, Ivy. For doin' all this for me." She adds.

"Of course. Just don't pick any fights until we're back at camp, for my sake."

"I'll do my best." Molly sighs. "I don't think it'll save our relationship but I appreciate the effort."

"You still know some Italian right? I know you mentioned it a long time ago."

"Yeah a bit. Don't know enough to have a conversation but I can pick up bits and pieces."

"Where did you learn?" I pry a little more because it's a small distraction from my burning scalp.

"Spent a bit of time around an Italian family growing up. I just picked up on some of their conversations over the years." I'm a little disappointed she doesn't give me more details. Molly and I haven't spent much time together since she joined us. She came from a wealthy family in Dublin, Ireland and made her way to the US in search of adventure and that's when she met Dutch. She's always prim and proper, wearing beautiful dresses, jewelry and makeup. Her hair is always clean and shiny. She's very much the opposite of me and I find her a little intimidating.

I look in the mirror at my reflection once the stylist has my hair smoothed and pinned back. She gets started on my makeup, after I've reminded her once again that I never wear makeup and if I look like a clown I will cry all the makeup off my face. This poor girl, I can't be a fun client for her to work on.

I'm pleasantly surprised when she's done at least. She kept the makeup light, only highlighting my own features with some blush, eyeshadow and mascara. But then it's time for Molly and I put on the dresses Trelawny gave us.

Molly of course looks stunning in an elegant gold and emerald dress that absolutely looks like it was made just for her. My dress is a dark blood red with black lace accents and a black choker around my neck. I look like a goddamn vampire. This is the Fourth of July, not Halloween. What the hell was Trelawny thinking? And dear lord, the hats he gave us, they are too much for words. They're big floppy hats decorated with rare feathers and flowers. I look insane.

"Where on earth did he get these?" I ask Molly.

She laughs and it's the first time I've heard her laugh in months. It actually surprises me a little. "He said he got them from a man named Algernon Wasp. Said they're one of a kind and will make all the women at the party full of envy, but we can't tell anyone about him."

"So what do we say if anyone asks where we got them? Not sure why anyone would want to know so badly." I try to adjust the hat so it looks smaller but the damn thing looks like it might come to life and swallow me whole.

"Just say it's from your aunt in Germany." Molly shrugs. "Usually works for me."

This is why Molly is more suited for this job than me. She knows how to be classy and elegant and wealthy and I know how to kill people and get away. I feel like a damn joke coming with them to this party.