//------------------------------//
// Taking Shape (New) 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
//------------------------------//


Taking Shape


Yang opened the door before Ruby had managed to knock on it. “Hey, Rubes, come on in.”
“How did you know I was here?” Ruby asked from the other side of an armful of fabric bolts as she walked in. “I didn’t even get a chance to-”
“I could hear you from the other side of the door,” Yang replied, an undercurrent of laughter in her voice. “Need a hand?”
“I need to be able to see over all this,” Ruby muttered. “Times like this, I wish I was as tall as Pyrrha.”
Yang chuckled. “Well, you’re here now, so it’s all good.”
Ruby walked in and dumped her fabrics on the floor of the YRBN dorm room. “Thanks for letting me use the room. I can’t use our dorm room because I don’t want Sunset or Pyrrha to see what I’m working on, or Penny either, and-”
“And you’re not worried if I find out what you’re working on, right?” Yang asked, in a mock stern tone, putting her hands on her hips. 
Ruby hesitated. “Well, I-”
“It’s fine,” Yang assured her. “I don’t need a big surprise. And you’ve gotta work somewhere, right?”
“Right,” Ruby agreed. She turned to the other members of Team YRBN, who were all in the room with the two sisters: Blake, sat reading on her bed, Ren sitting rather less comfortably upon his bed, looking like he was meditating or something, and Nora sitting on the floor at the foot of Ren’s bed with her headphones on. “Hey, guys.”
“HI, RUBY!” Nora screeched, making everyone else in the dorm room flinch at the volume of her voice. She winced as she realised what she’d done, laughing nervously as she took off her headphones. “Sorry about that. Forgot about the headphones. Hi, Ruby.” She looked at the fabrics on the floor. “Here to make those dresses, huh?”
“Yeah,” Ruby agreed. “Thanks for letting me take up your room.”
“It’s no problem,” Nora said dismissively. “Ren and I are going out into Vale to look at my dress for the dance, aren’t we, Ren?”
Ren did not look particularly enthusiastic about the idea as he opened his eyes. “I’m not sure that you need me for that, Nora,” he murmured.
“Because if you’re not there, how will you know if you like it?” Nora demanded.
Ren looked down at her. “So long as it makes you happy, it will make me happy.”
“Aww,” Nora cooed, leaning against the bed, with one arm resting upon it. “That is the sweetest thing, Ren. You’re still coming with me.”
Ren smiled ever so slightly. “In that case, Jaune will be joining us. He asked for my help picking out a suit.”
“Am I going to get to see you trying on suits?” Nora asked. “Sign me up!”
Ren’s smile remained slight, but got ever so slightly less so. 
Blake closed her book, but kept it in her hands as she got up off her bed. “I’ll be in the library if anyone needs me. Rainbow asked me to help Penny with some of her homework.”
Yang’s eyebrows rose. “And you’re just going to do it?”
“Rainbow wants me to give Penny a little bit of a faunus perspective on some of the history,” Blake explained. “I don’t see why not.”
“Rainbow Dash does remember that she’s a faunus herself, right?” Yang asked rhetorically and with a bit of humor.
“Probably,” Blake answered, a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “But I get better grades.”
“Right,” Yang conceded. “Have fun with that then,” she added dryly.
To Ruby, Blake said, “Good luck with everything, Ruby.”
“Thanks, Blake,” Ruby said. “Last chance to say if you want one too?”
“Thank you, but I’m already taken care of,” Blake said. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to add to your workload.”
“If you’re sure,” Ruby replied. “What are you going to do, Yang?”
“I’m meeting Sunset in the ballroom,” Yang informed her. “Since Team Coffee isn't back from their mission yet, Professor Goodwitch asked me and Sunset to plan the dance together.” She paused. “Didn’t she tell you?”
Ruby shook her head. “This is the first I’ve heard about it. She asked Sunset?” Yang, sure, Ruby could see that, even if her sister was only a freshman; she was also gregarious and outgoing and knew what made a good party. Sunset… not so much. 
“I don’t know what Professor Goodwitch was thinking either,” Yang admitted. “I just hope Sunset takes this seriously and doesn’t try to make me do everything myself.”
“It would probably turn out okay if you did,” Ruby said loyally.
“Yeah, obviously it would, but that doesn’t mean that I want to do it all,” Yang replied.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Ruby assured her. “Just because Sunset didn’t say anything doesn’t mean she won’t work hard. She gives everything her best shot.”
“Like I said, I hope so,” Yang declared. “Anyway, that’s where I’ll be while I leave you to it.” She reached out with one hand and ruffled Ruby’s hair. “Best of luck, sis. See you in a while!”
“Good luck,” Ruby said to her, as first Yang and then Blake took their leave of the dorm room. As Ren and Nora became the last to leave, Ruby said to them, “Be careful out there, after… you know.”
The two of them paused. Ren bowed his head to her. “We will be on our guard, of course.”
Ruby studied him for a moment, her sister’s taciturn teammate. “But you’re always on your guard, right?”
“We could die at the hands of the White Fang in Vale,” Ren allowed. “I could die at the hands of the grimm on a mission. I could electrocute myself with a kitchen appliance, or Nora’s curling iron could start a fire and burn down the dorm room-”
“I unplug that every night!” Nora insisted.
“We live each day surrounded by death,” Ren continued, as though she hadn’t spoken. “Why fear one more than the rest?”
Ruby nodded. “Vigilance, but not fear, right?”
“Precisely,” Ren agreed. “Anything else, and they have won. And now, we will leave you to your work.”
“Later, Ruby!” Nora called. “Have fun!”
“I’ll try,” Ruby replied, as the door shut behind the two of them. She put her hands on her hips and let out a heavy breath as she looked down at the pile of fabrics, some of which were gently unrolling themselves upon the floor. She did not immediately break out the scissors, needle, and thread, however. The first thing that she did was get out her scroll, prop it up on Yang’s desk so that it was standing upright with the screen facing outwards, and call Rainbow’s friend Rarity in Atlas. 
Rarity took a few seconds to actually pick up, but eventually, she answered, her fair face appearing in the screen, framed by her purple curls. Her deep blue eyes blinked. “Ruby, darling!” she cried. “So good to hear from you again. I take it this is about those designs you sent over for me to look at?”
“Uh-huh,” Ruby agreed, sitting down on Yang’s bed. “Did you get a chance to take a look at them? Is this a good time?”
“It’s the best time, darling; I don’t have to work on a Sunday,” Rarity informed her. “Although, contrariwise, you might also say that Sunday is when I get all of my best work done.”
Ruby glanced at what she could see of the room behind Rarity. “Is that your workshop?”
Rarity’s laughter was light and high pitched and just a little embarrassed. “Well, technically, darling, it’s the living room, but Coco and I – Coco Pommel, that’s my roommate – agreed that we would rather have a space to work than one to entertain.” She picked up her scroll and turned in place with it, showing off a room decorated in cool blue colours with accents of purple, indigo, and violet, with mannequins posed here and there looking almost like guests at a party, while sewing machines stood ready and fabrics stood stacked against the walls. 
“Nice setup,” Ruby said. “Although it seems like a pity you can’t have friends over.”
“That’s the beauty of living in Atlas, darling; you never need to have anyone over because there’s always somewhere to go out instead,” Rarity replied. “Or we impose on Pinkie Pie, for whom it’s no imposition at all.” She paused. “Anyway, yes, your designs.”
“What did you think?” Ruby asked eagerly.
“I thought it was wonderful work,” Rarity said. “You really do have a flair for fashion, Ruby; no offence to your chosen profession, but you’re wasted as a huntress.”
Ruby chuckled. “I don’t think so.”
“I know, but I can lament nevertheless,” Rarity said airily. “I must say I’m a little surprised that Pyrrha’s dress isn’t a little more Mistralian in style-”
“I’m sure that Pyrrha must have to wear that style all the time,” Ruby explained. “I wanted to give her something a little bit different.”
“Well, it certainly is different,” Rarity allowed. “And quite lovely besides, it will certainly go with her hair. Yes, quite lovely. I presume the fairytale sensibility of it was intentional?”
Ruby smiled, even as she looked down and away from Rarity. “I guess,” she said. “Pyrrha… she and Jaune are pretty much like a fairytale already, so… it seemed to make sense, you know?”
Rarity’s smile was warm, and utterly without judgement. “I understand completely, Ruby, and trust me, being able to tailor your designs to your friend’s personalities is just one more thing which marks you out as a true talent.”
“I don’t-”
“Oh, you do,” Rarity insisted. “As shown when we move from Pyrrha’s dress to Sunset’s; I must confess that I don’t know either of these two very well – in Pyrrha’s case, due to lack of opportunity, and in Sunset’s, due to… lack of desire – but the switch from fairytale in Pyrrha’s case to something more sensual in Sunset’s demonstrates that you know them quite well.”
“You think it works, then?” Ruby asked. “I wasn’t sure if it would. It felt right, but… are you sure it isn’t showing too much leg?”
“For a comfortable, self-confident woman, there is no such thing as too much leg,” Rarity declared. She paused. “Allowing for the dress code and the specifics of the situation, obviously,” she added. “Obviously, in a dress like this, it would make no sense to describe Sunset as the belle of the ball, but she will turn heads, without a doubt.”
Ruby grinned. “Sunset does like being the centre of attention.”
Rarity laughed. “That is one thing I remember about her very well,” she agreed. “As for Yang’s dress, this rich purple is definitely her colour.”
“I know she’ll like that,” Ruby said. “I’ve seen her wearing stuff like it before. What about Penny’s dress?” That was the one that she was most worried about, if only because Penny seemed the most excited of any of her friends to actually receive the dress; she didn’t want to let Penny down, having gotten her hopes up so.
Rarity was silent for a moment. She put on a pair of half-moon spectacles and looked at something. She still said nothing as her hand reached towards the screen and then disappeared out of sight; Ruby thought she could hear buttons being pressed. 
“Is something wrong?” she asked nervously.
“Wrong? No,” Rarity said immediately. “It’s just that I have one or two suggestions for Penny’s dress; the colour is well-chosen and should bring out her eyes beautifully, but I do have one or two suggestions.” She paused. “Did you have any… dubious assistance in this?”
“Um, Ciel wanted to see the design,” Ruby admitted. “She gave me… a couple of notes.”
“Hmm,” Rarity noted, with evident disapproval. “Yes, I thought I could tell where you had made a decision against your better judgement. I’ve just sent you back a revised design; why don’t you tell me whether my notes match your original intention?”
Ruby got off the bed and approached her scroll as it pinged with the notification of a message received. She swiped Rarity’s face to take up only half the screen, and with the other, opened up said message, which was from Rarity and contained the revisions she had just mentioned. It did match Ruby’s original intent, rolling back the revisions that Ciel had made on Penny’s behalf: the hem of the skirt that Ciel had insisted be lowered to calf-length was back up to knee-length again, and the long sleeves that Ciel had added were gone, replaced by short sleeves and gloves halfway to elbow-length that nevertheless left most of Penny’s arms bare. “How did you-?”
“I like to think that I can sense an artist’s vision,” Rarity replied. “And when it’s been compromised. I’m not quite sure who Miss Soleil thinks she is, but when it comes to creating beauty, there is nothing more important than integrity.”
“Not even pleasing the person the dress is for?”
Rarity sighed. “The chances that the person the dress is for knows what they’re talking about are vanishingly rare; trust me, I speak from experience,” she added, her voice dropping to become a slight mutter. “They might not realise it while the work is in progress, but if you stick to your vision and shut out the voices of the naysayers, then your creation will convert them with its quality. That’s why, in all my work, I always make sure to follow the Rules of Rarity.” She paused, and Ruby almost got the sense that she was listening to something, before Rarity got up from where she’d been sitting and retreated to stand in the centre of the room. 
“Rarity?” Ruby asked.
Rarity ignored her, or perhaps she didn’t hear, because she chose that moment to burst into song. 

	The Rules of Rarity,


	 Guarantee quality,


	This I can assure,


	For each and every dress,


	I vow to give finesse,


	With ti-ime, love, and couture!

“Uh, Rarity,” Ruby said.
“Hmm?” Rarity stopped. “Oh, I’m sorry darling, did I start singing?”
“Uh… yeah,” Ruby admitted.
Rarity laughed nervously. “Yes, uh, that happens from… time to time. My sincerest apologies.”
“It’s fine,” Ruby said, a touch of laughter in her own voice. “Does it really just happen? You just start singing sometimes?”
“Sometimes we do it on purpose,” Rarity replied. “Other times, it… well, it just seems to come over one at times. Twilight suggested it might be because the air is thinner at high elevations.”
“I… guess?” Ruby murmured. “But you think I should make the dress my way?”
“I don’t think you should consider doing anything else,” Rarity assured her.
“Okay then,” Ruby declared. “I’ll do it.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” Rarity said. “And for the same reason, I’m not even going to comment upon the design of your own dress.”
“You’re not?”
“Far be it from me,” Rarity said, “to tell a fellow fashionista how to dress.”
“I’m not-”
“Oh, but you are, darling,” Rarity insisted. “It may not be your dream, but it is in your heart nonetheless.”
Ruby couldn’t help but smile at that. “Thanks, Rarity,” she said. “This has been great.”
“Any time at all, darling, any time,” Rarity assured. “Within reason, of course.”
Ruby nodded. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Ruby,” Rarity called, as Ruby ended the call. 
Okay. That… that had gone really well. She could do this; she could produce something that all her friends would love. 
It felt like the least she could do for them.
And so, fortified by Rarity’s praise and her advice, Ruby gathered up her tools and fabrics and set to work. 



“Jaune!” Sun called. “Hey, Jaune, can I talk to you for a second?”
Jaune turned around. He, Ren, and Nora were walking down the path that led across the courtyard to the docking pads to catch a bus into Vale. “You two go on ahead,” he told them. “I’ll catch up.”
“Don’t take too long,” Nora told him, as she and Ren walked – skipped, in Nora’s case – further off down the path. 
Jaune, meanwhile, stood still, waiting for Sun who was running to approach him. 
“Hey, man,” he said. “Sorry to hold you up; I just need some advice.”
“What kind of advice?” Jaune asked warily.
“What are you wearing for the dance?” Sun asked.
Jaune blinked in surprise. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “I’m just on my way into Vale to look for something. Why?”
Sun shrugged. “It’s just something that I’ve been wondering about, you know? What I should wear, for Blake, you know. I mean, I was just going to wear this-”
“That?” Jaune repeated as he took in Sun’s combat gear, which also doubled as his casual dress. “You were going to go to the dance in that?”
“Wrong answer?” Sun guessed.
Jaune hesitated, because on the one hand… yes, it was the wrong answer, and not just because Sun wasn’t wearing a shirt, but also because he wasn’t wearing any socks either, and his jeans were torn. 
On the other hand, Jaune’s jeans weren’t brand new or in perfect condition either, and there was a good reason for that, and Jaune wasn’t blind to the possibility that there was a good reason for Sun’s clothes being the way they were either. Mistral was said to be a hard kingdom for faunus, and although Jaune hadn’t seen any evidence of that, he was aware that they hadn’t really seen anything hard about Mistral, but that that said more about the aura of privilege that surrounded the Nikos family than it did about the absence of any toil or struggle in Mistral itself. 
And Vacuo, from what little Jaune knew of it, was said to be a poor place, and a hard one; not least by people from Vacuo itself. 
So instead of simply decrying Sun’s taste, Jaune asked, “What made you think that might not be a good idea?”
“What do you think?” Sun demanded. “Blake! The more I think about it… I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem right to take her to the dance looking like this.” He paused. “Look, dude, I know that I look like a mess; you don’t have to pretend. And it’s fine. I’m from Vacuo; we all look like this because we’re too busy surviving to worry about what’s in style or whether our clothes look good as new or any stuff like that. But Blake’s not from Vacuo; she’s a princess from Menagerie, and she hangs out with the Atlesians who definitely care about all that stuff. I… I guess I’m starting to wonder if she deserves better.”
“Yes,” Jaune said. “She does.”
“Well, thanks, man.”
“Blake deserves better,” Jaune said. “Just like Pyrrha deserves better. They both deserve so much better than… than us. I mean, look at them. They’re strong, brave, kind, selfless, beautiful, and we’re… we’re us.”
Sun nodded. “Yeah, I guess we are, aren’t we?”
“But someone… someone who can be really stupid, but who occasionaly has flashes of insight once told me that when it comes to love, we don’t get what we deserve; we love… who we love. And they love us, or at least I hope that she does. And I think that Blake loves you.”
“I hope so too,” Sun said quietly. “Even if I’m not sure how.”
“Because she does,” Jaune said. “I’m starting to think that that’s all there is to it. And because that’s all there is to it, then… then go to the dance like that, if you want. Blake won’t care. So long as it’s you, she won’t care.”
Sun looked unsure. “You think so?”
I hope so, now I’ve said it. “I know so.”
A smile brightened Sun’s face. “Well, all right!” he cried, before his blue eyes narrowed. “Wait a second, if you believe that, then why are you going into Vale to get a special outfit?”
“I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite.”



“No,” Yang said bluntly. “We are not having a string quartet.”
Sunset placed her hands, palms down, flat on the tabletop. “Why not?”
Yang stood over her, hands on her hips. “Because it’s lame, that’s why!”
Sunset scoffed. “First of all, it is not lame, it is the done thing; second of all: springing for a DJ? That is so cliché.”
“Some things are clichés for a reason,” Yang declared, holding up one finger. “Having a DJ at a party is a cliché because having a DJ is fun! It’s cool! And we can get a great deal on it too; look at this flier I found in Vale.”
She laid the flier down on the table. Sunset’s right hand glowed as she levitated it up into the air and towards her face to read it. Sunset groaned. “Vinyl Scratch.”
“You know her?”
Sunset rolled her eyes. “She went to Canterlot.”
Yang frowned. “Why does a DJ need to go to combat school?”
“So she can drive from gig to gig through grimm infested territory?” Sunset suggested. “I would have asked her, but she never had her headphones off. Also, I didn’t care.”
“So she’s good, right?”
“It doesn’t matter how good she is,” Sunset insisted. “She is not suitable for a formal event. And neither is a smoke machine.”
“Oh, but ice sculptures, they’re just the thing to get this party banging?”
“Will you listen to yourself?” Sunset exclaimed. “This party should not be ‘banging’; this is not a ‘banging’ sort of party, this is-”
“A party,” Yang reminded her. “At a school. For kids.”
“A gala for representatives of many different kingdoms,” Sunset said acerbically, “brought together in a celebration of unity and peace.” Sunset picked up Yang’s list of hors d’oeuvres off the table in front of her. “And what is this: chicken wings, nachos, pork belly skewers, pigs in blankets? First of all, where are the vegetarian options?”
“The nachos are vegetarian!”
“Second of all,” Sunset continued, more asperity bleeding off her voice by the moment, “what kind of hors d’oeuvres are these?”
“I don’t even know what that word means,” Yang said flatly. “This is party food! What do you think we ought to have?”
“Canapes,” Sunset said. “Crudite platters, gougers-”
“Those do not sound good,” Yang said.
“They’re not supposed to taste good,” Sunset replied. “They’re meant to look dainty.” She huffed. “I don’t know why Professor Goodwitch asked you to help me plan this gala.” She hadn’t been particularly enthused about being given the job herself – she had better things to do, like… almost anything, really – but when the best alternative was Yang, she could see why she, Sunset, had been sought out. Without her, this would all go terribly wrong. 
“Oh, really?” Yang demanded, her voice acquiring a slightly dangerous edge. “And why is that?”
“Because you clearly have…” Sunset searched for a slightly less rude way of saying ‘plebeian tastes.’ She had a lot of trouble finding one. “Because your low tastes, though doubtless appealing to the masses, are quite unsuitable for a highbrow event such as this.”
Yang looked as though she didn’t know whether to laugh or punch Sunset’s face in. Her mouth opened and closed several times. Her eyes flashed red, then back to violet, then red, then violet, then alternating between colours several times. Her hair flared fiery, then died down again just as swiftly. “My 'low tastes'?” she repeated.
Sunset shrugged. “Don’t look at me; you’re the one who wants a DJ.”
“Where the hell do you-?” Yang halted, if only for a moment. “How the hell does a faunus become such a snob?”
“That’s racist,” Sunset said, a smirk playing across her face as she pointed at Yang.
“No, that’s experience.”
“What, just because I’m a faunus doesn’t mean I can be cultured?” Sunset said. “Why don’t you say that where Blake can hear you?”
“Blake didn’t just come within a hair of calling me a lowborn oaf,” Yang reminded Sunset.
“I have been to more galas,” Sunset declared, “than you have had hot dinners.”
“Where do you think I live?” Yang demanded. “I have hot dinners every night. I cooked a lot of them myself when I was younger.”
“Chicken wings and pork belly skewers, one assumes,” Sunset murmured dryly.
Yang rolled her eyes. “You can sneer all you want, but I made sure that Ruby ate well growing up.”
Sunset paused for a moment. She tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “I know that your mother died,” she said softly, “but… the way you talk – and this isn’t the first time you’ve brought it up… where was your father in all this?”
Yang was silent for a moment. “Grieving,” she said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “When Mom left… it hit him pretty hard. He… pulled himself together eventually, but…”
“Too late for you?” Sunset guessed.
“You could say that,” Yang said lightly, and without concern. “So tell me about these galas?”
Sunset raised one eyebrow.
“I really want to know how an Atlesian faunus ends up this incredibly stuck-up.”
“I am not incredibly stuck-up,” Sunset declared. “I am regularly stuck-up. I am precisely as arrogant as my abilities warrant.”
“We’ll agree to disagree on that,” Yang muttered. “So how did it happen?”
“Well, for a start, I wasn’t born in Atlas,” Sunset told her. “I moved to Atlas to pursue my destiny and attend combat school. I was raised outside the kingdoms.”
“Okay, so how does a faunus from some mudhole in the wilderness-”
“My home was not a mudhole!” Sunset snapped. “And it was certainly not in the wilderness; my home… my home was glorious. My people… my people are isolationist, not backwards.” That seemed the best explanation that she could give for why Yang wouldn’t know about this place. “They keep themselves to themselves, but they are… in their own way, they are as advanced as Atlas and as cultured as Mistral. Where I lived… it was beautiful. Beautiful as Mistral is beautiful but more, so much more. A city of golden spires and marble balconies, a city of broad avenues lined with shrubs and bushes, a city where the light gleamed off the white walls, a place of light and music, where song was as likely to be heard in the streets as the chatter of commerce.”
“Sounds idyllic,” Yang observed. “Why would you leave all that behind for… this?”
“For destiny, as I said,” Sunset replied.
“It must have been some destiny.”
“I thought so, at the time,” Sunset said. She chuckled. “Now… I think I mostly stay for them.”
Yang smiled. “Ruby has that effect. Just like I told you she would, if I remember right.”
“Yeah, yeah, you were right about that,” Sunset conceded. “Saying ‘I told you so’ is a very bad look.”
“Saying that somebody else has low taste is a pretty bad look itself.”
“I was only being honest.”
“You were also being a colossal jerk,” Yang said. “But anyway, is that where you got your taste in parties?”
Sunset nodded. “The Grand… the Grand Gala,” she said. “The highlight of the social calendar, when the palace would be thrown open to the nobility and the gentry and to the favourites of the princess.” A wistful smile played upon her lips. “But nobody was more favourite than me. I would stand by her side as all ascended the stairs to pay their court and tribute to her, listening as the soft strains of the music floated overhead as gently as any sucking dove.”
“And you enjoyed that?” Yang asked incredulously.
Sunset glared silently at her. 
“I’m just saying, it doesn’t sound much fun,” Yang said. She paused. “This is the part where you tell me it wasn’t about having fun, isn’t it?”
“Everyone always seemed to enjoy it,” Sunset replied.
“Really?” Yang asked sceptically.
“Yes,” Sunset insisted. “It was all very civilised and decorous, and if we adopt the same standards here, I think the Mistralian students will feel right at home.”
“And everyone else will be bored,” Yang insisted. “We’re not nobles or anything like that; we’re young and… and after this dance, we’re all going out on field missions that we might not come back from,” she said bluntly. “That’s the bottom line. By the week after the dance, I could be dead. Blake could be dead. Pyrrha and Jaune and Ruby could be dead-”
“I won’t let that happen!” Sunset cried.
“And we deserve to have had some fun before that happens!” Yang yelled. “We deserve the chance to cut loose and live a little!”
“By acting like hoodlums?”
“Yes!” Yang shouted. “If that’s what you think, then fine, but we deserve better than to be forced to button up and have sticks shoved up are asses before we go into battle!”
Her appeal was forceful and… not without force, Sunset had to admit. This was, after all, a dangerous occupation, and every freshman student would be embarking on missions, no exceptions – not even for teams like CLEM that hadn’t signed up for missions in the ordinary course of things; after the dance, they too would be expected to do their part – which would throw them directly into harm’s way. 
Maybe it was wrong of Sunset to bore them to death first. 
That still didn’t mean she was willing to give up everything, however.
“How much budget do we have?” she asked Yang. “How many lien did Professor Goodwitch say we could spend?”
“Twenty thousand lien,” Yang replied. “Why?”
Sunset shrugged. “For that much, we could probably hire Vinyl Scratch and the Octavia String Quartet. And we could have my hors d’oeuvres and your… meat. And-”
“I get the picture,” Yang muttered. “And maybe we could afford to do both of what we want, but a string quartet and a DJ, what will that sound like?”
“Dubstep string music, I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “Maybe they’ll take it in turns, or maybe they’ll invent a whole new genre of music. Now wouldn’t that be fun?”
Yang considered that for a moment, before a slow grin began to spread across her face. “Now you’re starting to get it,” she said. “Okay, let’s budget this out. How much is the quartet?”
And so they worked out numbers, the cost of hires and the cost of machines and the cost of food, and as they worked, the dance took shape around them.