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Arthur had been where he always was, in the library practicing his cursive and researching. He'd heard a very loud noise and had been about to yell at whoever it was who had caused it when he leaned over the table, and, for lack of a better expression, hit it sooner than he intended.

Eyes widening, Arthur quietly packed up his books, made a quick trip to the men's room to test his hypothesis and then, once that was completed, to his own room. On the way, he'd heard the screams and misery of other students and teachers who had been affected and witnessed the awe and mirth of those who hadn't. Arthur personally was not entirely displeased. Finding out that she was now a girl was a shock, but her logical side overrode the bulk of the anger. She supposed that it was only a matter of time before something as crazy as this happened anyway; living on an island with superheroes kinda invited the possiblity.

Nonetheless, Arthur, (or Artura or Avalon, as she was starting to debate, lacking good feminine forms of her name) could hardly pass up the chance to explore a new area of fashion. Sge'd been to goodwill in Megalopolis looking for some good fabric to cannibalize for scarves and happened to pick up a skirt, intending to cut it up. After a quick trip to the bathroom to shave her legs, Arthur stood before her mirror and pronounced herself ready.

She walked down the hall, her shoulder-length red hair bobbing behind her as she adjusted her clothes, still unused to the feeling of...bouncing everywhere she walked. Her red plaid skirt was a little shorter than she was comfortable with, but her lean build seemed to make it work. Her purple glasses had seemed a little out of place, so she'd swapped them for some black-rimmed ones and she had on a white blouse and a pair of converses.

She stopped when she heard a particular cry of anguish that gave her pause and saw a boy in tight pants hunched up miserably. When she heard him complain about his shorts, Arthur rolled her eyes and decided it really was time to refer to herself by another name. Calling herself a guy's name just seemed silly.

"Um, not to be completely rude, but I highly doubt anyone would want you to take off your shorts here anyway." She looked over the rims of her glasses at the boy on the floor and as the rest of her upper body stopped wobbling, Art became more and more aware that it maybe wasn't so wise to go out without first finding a bra.

((oh gosh sorry, my bad. xD;; this is one of many reasons Cinq is not a rl fashion person ))

Arthur cocked her head to one side, her longer hair unexpectedly covering one of her eyes so that she had to puff at it to get it to go away. "Maybe you'd do better to focus on adapting rather than screaming." She raised an eyebrow at the newly-turned boy. "We're still heroes in training and everything. The least of your worries should be keeping it together. Besides," she had an evil smile on her face, "It's not like you're totally helpless."

She put a hand on her hips and attempted a graceful little swirl. Oh HELL YES. If he was a girl, then he was going to make the most of it. He'd always wondered what female protagonists thought and how they acted as a writer, and even though he was upset, he would absolutely not allow himself to fall apart in front of other people. He'd had a meltdown in his room, sure, but now was not the time for hysteria.

"Lucky for you, you happen to be in the presence of someone who knows a great deal about clothes." Arthur gave her hair a little flip and then took a closer look at Clow's skirt and spats combo. Yeah, it could use some help. "I think I have some clothes in my room you could wear. That's if you think you can make it all the way up there." She snickered.

Ari (she decided this sounded a little less strange than calling herself Arthur) just smirked. "What?" She sniffed haughtily. "It's not like they're the kind of clothes that I would wear, if you catch my drift."

She made it about as far as the stairs and then realized that her companion seemed to be having some difficulty walking. "You really are having a tough time, huh? Come on, just... strut, or something."

She was kind of at a loss. Naturally, her own walking around was somewhat still all over the place since she wasn't wearing a bra and hadn't gotten used to all the wobbling, but at least she could move her legs. "It can't be that hard."

Ari's shoulders tensed when Clowrey mentioned the Christmas Party. Oh sheesh. She'd kinda hoped that she could pass as one of the students who hadn't heard the sound and had their genders swapped, but now it was too late. Well, better make the best of it. She put on her trademark smirk (although it came out as more of a cocky pout) and said, "Oh, you noticed? You're just as much of an amateur as ever."

She began to dig through her dresser drawers, pulling out a pair of frayed jeans and hesitantly selecting one of her favorite plaid shirts. This wasn't terribly difficult to do as all her plaid shirts were her favorite, but it didn't make agreeing to lend them out any easier. She steeled herself and did her best to think of it as making good on her promise to dress Clowrey fashionably.

"Alright, try these on. I've got a few other sizes, but unless you can squeeze your packaged self into one of these pairs, you are outta luck, Mr. Man."

It was about at this time that Ari realized that she hadn't offered any underwear at Clowrey. Her eyes slid back to the top drawer of the dresser. Nuh-uh. No way. Even if she was a girl now, there was no way she was lending out her boxers. Nope. Maybe Clowrey wouldn't notice or mind going commando.

Arthur cocked her head to side and snorted at Clowrey's suggestion. "Like I'd look at you."

But still, even though she turned her back, Arthur was still a guy in a girl's boy and when told not to do something, she was all the more inclined to do it. She meandered by a mirror on the opposite side of the room, and flicked her eyes over to the mirror briefly, catching a glimpse of the scar before Clowrey draped a shirt over it. She wanted to comment on it, her brow already furrowed at the thought of what could do that to someone, but held back. Arthur hadn't been involved in any conflicts that could have left a mark on her, not physically, at least, and being presented with evidence that Clowrey had (and was therefore more experienced than she was, even in one area) stung a little.

But compassion quickly faded back into snark when Clowrey exclaimed about his pants.

"Oh for God's sake," Arthur muttered, frustrated and determined to prove herself equal (or better) to this girl-turned-boy with a battle scar, "it's just pants. If you can't do it yourself, so help me, I will do it for you."

And with that she stepped behind Clowrey and took a firm hold on the boy's chaps' waistband.