Leila had heard everything that Ricky had to say, but she hadn't returned anything. She slipped off her stool, and nearly lost her balance, clutching onto the bar for support. And Ricky hadn't even tried to help her walk. Leila started stumbling toward the door, "Thanks Riccola, I hope you like the new job." She then slowly, with her hands out to steady herself, made her way to the door. She leaned against the wall heavily, and began opening the door, only to hear the roar of rain outside. Thankfully her home wasn't too far away. The rain was pounding down heavy, and she knew she'd be soaked to the bone when she got there. She sensed Ricky behind her, and to keep him from getting too close, she stepped out into the surprisingly warm rain.
She really should've brought her cloak, but hadn't thought it important, so she stood there, wobbly, but defiant, waiting on the Wave Guard. She was enjoying the warm, heavy drops, but hoped Ricky would despise them. He dress was sticking to her form, clinging to every curve, proving she did have a woman's body. Her hair hung in strings, losing much of their bounce, but still managing to frame her face. When he stepped out, Leila turned, and started stumbling along West Street. If he even offered to escort her like he used to, she would refuse. There were a few times that she tripped, and caught him for support, but she didn't say thanks or even look at him. She just kept walking, for several chimes, until she reached her door. She fumbled for her keys, dropping them to the ground once, picking them back up, and managing after several attempts to unlock and open her door.
She stepped inside her house, which was a bit too warm for comfort from the fire in her hearth. Shaco was asleep in the corner, opened a single eye, saw her, then went back to sleep. She took of her shoes and set them by the door, then walked over to in front of the fire, her bed in the corner nearby. She'd left the door open to make sure Ricky came in. "Shut the door, leave your boo's nest to it, I dun' wan' you gettin' my house wet and muddy."
She stood there, the alcohol emboldening her, drowning the butterflies in her stomach that normally would be fluttering at the thoughts in her head. She was soaked and knew he was too, and needed to dry off. So without saying anything, no warning, she slipped the shoulders of her dress down her arms. She continued to wiggle and peel the dress down past her hips, then let the wet dress drop to the floor, standing there in her white slip and nothing more. The thin slip, also wet, transparent and clinging to her form, accented by fire light, seemed to glow like a ghost. Her face already red from the alcohol, couldn't blush, as a single hand moved for the thin strap on her shoulder for her slip. She slipped a finger under it, then moved it off her shoulder, letting it fall down her arm. She then repeated the process with the other, the slip being held up by the wet fabric alone. She looked back over her shoulder at him, not smiling, but not the hostile look she'd been harboring all night. "Come 'ere, get out of those wet clothes. They need to dry. Can't have you making more of a mess." She then looked back to the fire, let her fingers grab the side of her slip. She then began pushing it down, her small breasts being exposed to the warm fire, the slip dropping lower and lower, her back still to Ricky. She bent over slightly as she pushed the slip past her hips and over her small buttocks, and let it drop to the floor with the rest of her wet clothes. She stood back up, naked for the first time in front of a man, looked back over her shoulder, "Well? You comin' or you goin' a keep drippin' on my floor?"