Mimiru slips through the door to the second-year room as quietly as she can, hoping she won't draw too much attention to herself; fat chance, as arriving ten minutes late and dressed as she is makes for a pretty noticeable entrance.  The punk girl grins a bit sheepishly and gives a combination wave/salute to Tomoe, who looks rather stunned, before excusing herself and sliding along the side wall of the class toward the back amidst more than a few astonished stares and whispered invectives from the other girls in the class.<br/><br/>Uncharacteristically, Mimiru doesn't even shoot the chatty bitches a killing glare, much less respond in kind.  Normally if she were dressed a bit slutty it would be a different matter, but as this particular instance was entirely accidental, she doesn't feel like she has any right to complain about people calling a spade a spade.  Besides, on balance, she'd have to admit she<em>does</em>look more like a schoolgirl prostitute today than the counter-culture punked out private school girl she looked like last night.<br/><br/>"Mimi-chan," Tomoe whispers to her as she slides into the seat beside her, grinning awkwardly.  "Did you really outgrow your uniform shirt again...?"<br/><br/>The rocker girl grimaces a bit at the snickers from some of the boys who sit near enough to overhear--who no doubt would answer for the affirmative for her if they could put in their two cents--and slumps over to one side, propping her head up on her palm with a huff.  "Hey, it's the style in France, you know?"<br/><br/>"Really...?"<br/><br/>Mimiru shrugs indifferently, grinning.  "Probably.  French people are pretty fucked up."