I woke the next morning in a foul mood. As I stood in my closet, looking at the hideous clothing Pagomaris stocked for me, the full-length mirror throwing back the image of a very pissed off demon girl, I made a decision.
I dressed aggressively in spiked boots and a pair of skin-tight pants in some kind of black leather with studs all over them. The shirt was also tight, a heavy jacket with matching spikes and a few skulls with horns decorating the shoulders and cuffs finishing my attire while a collar jutted out an array of spines I had to be careful of so I didn't stab myself by accident.
My hair I bundled up in a mess of angry curls, tied off with a chain and several blades. When I checked out the mirror again, I smiled. Yeah, badass.
Time to take out the trash.