33

Chapter Text

SUN FEB 27

I had time to think on the run back, and during my shower, I realized that I didn't really want to keep my identity secret from Parian. I felt a little bad, thinking I'd figured out she works at her shop in both her identities, and it just felt inefficient when I thought of all the extra trips I might need to make, if I kept interacting with her in both identities and committed to keeping them separate. The fact that it might simplify clothes shopping in the future was also intriguing. With that in mind, I emptied out my backpack after my shower, and loaded up my costume.

Gram showed up, a little before 1:30. Her driver came to the door to collect me, and I followed her out to the car. I could feel Gram's disdainful gaze at the outfit I'd wound up choosing. They were the nicest clothes I still had, but that meant they were from better days, and a little tight. I slipped into the back seat on the driver's side, and slid my bag to the floorboard in front of my legs. "Perhaps a more general update to your wardrobe is also in order." Gram remarked as the car started up.

I gave a silent groan and groused, "I'm going shopping with a friend, later this week. Knowing Vicky, she'll try to make me buy more clothes than I have room for."

She weighed my words for a moment, before nodding. "Still, perhaps an additional outfit..."

"I don't need more than one suit, gram." I remarked in a dour near-deadpan.

She hummed. "One business suit is… sufficient, if properly cared for." I could hear the 'for now' in her voice, and the disregard for only having as much as absolutely necessary. She probably had at least half a dozen of those business suits she kept wearing back at her hotel, even though she'd really only need three at most, plus a dry cleaner to send her gofers to with the spares every few days. I stifled a snort at the thought of my grandmother, sitting around at a Laundromat in her only clean suit, waiting for the rest of her clothes to be done.

"I assume you've looked into Parian?" I asked to change the subject.

Gram tilted her head in a small shrug. "I've confirmed the bank she trades with, and the fact that she's renting space and paying wages with a business loan, as well as the likely terms of said business loan. I could easily secure a transfer of debt both would find agreeable at a loss to myself, if you're adamant about supporting her. I could also attempt to negotiate for part of the business in exchange for reduced interest and smaller payments, which would be preferable, if not entirely without risk."

I think I understood. "So, either basically giving her money by not making her pay back as much as she's borrowed, or making her pay more later to pay less now?"

"Never underestimate 'paying less now', Taylor." She stated in a warning tone. "Assuming she's savvy with her reinvestment of the additional funds and the market allows it, the new deal could have her business grow to the point where she is making more per year than she would have under the old one, even if we would also profit from it. The danger is assuming the business will survive long enough to recoup the investment on our part." She settled back into her seat, humming thoughtfully. "Remember that investment is a long game. I may not survive to see this particular deal turn a profit, for instance."

"But I will." I thought out loud. That's just how old money worked.

"God willing." She muttered with a nod, killing my enthusiasm for the topic. I didn't want to feel disparaging things towards the religious, a bigoted notion that they were stupider for believing in some magic man in the sky that would make their life better for believing it... but I knew I'd never find comfort in giving up control or responsibility for my life the same way they could. I just didn't understand it.

The trip was quiet after that, making our way there at a sedate driving pace and still managing to be early. I let myself out when we got there, pulling my bag out with me and slinging it over my shoulder. Gram took the time to slowly maneuver her way out of the car after the driver got the door for her, cane in one hand, and the thin rectangular satchel-like bag she used as a cross between a briefcase and a purse in the other. I led the way inside, the young woman keeping an eye on the floor from behind the till catching sight of us a few moments after entering. "No bags." She called, eyeing my backpack.

"Uhh, we have an appointment?" I tried to ignore what she'd said.

"2PM, Lafayette." Gram cut in sharply, eyes cold as she stared the thin blonde down.

"Right." She said, swallowing thickly as she eyed a book behind the counter. Even I found Gram's 'I will buy out your entire business just to fire you.' voice intimidating, and she was using it to back me up. "Uhh, this way?"

She turned back toward the store's back rooms and stairs, shooting an alarmed and fearful glance towards her co-worker across the store, working the floor. From the angle, Gram and I couldn't 'see' it, but I caught the little wave she got back out of the corner of my eye. The 'better you than me' look transitioned into a plastic 'for the customers' smile when she saw me looking. Parian herself was situated in her studio, apparently working on a trio of shirts simultaneously from how they seemed to be tugging themselves together. She stopped when the young woman knocked and poked her head in. "Your 2PM is here?"

The cape nodded, the clothes and their mannequins disappearing from my senses and setting down again near the wall. Lifting things by the clothes on them, like I'd seen her do with my costumes before. "Thank you, Cindy." We just barely heard from the hallway. The door was opened wide, and we passed the woodenly-smiling young woman, who shut the door behind us.

Parian herself was sitting primly at her seat, her back straight on her working stool, hands clasped in her lap, head tilted slightly back to give the best possible initial view of her masked countenance. I felt Gram give an impressed and approving hum, even as the cape's eyes tracked over us. I could feel the thrill of trepidation and excitement as she took in my grandmother's sharp moneyed businesswoman look, meeting her intensity with a barely perceptible nod. Then her attention snapped first to the bag over my shoulder, her mood disappointed and mistrustful. Her eyes trailed over the baby-blue blouse I wore, which Emma had said contrasted well with my colors without straying too far from my 'winter palette', tight enough from its history as a late middle-school shirt that I knew she could easily see the lines of my bra through it. Her eyes shifted up to my slight tan, dark eyes and hair, and carefully neutral expression, then down to the straining light beige khakis I'd kept for special occasions and forgotten about for a year before my excavation for Arcadia clothes unearthed them. Her eyes settled for a moment on my 'shoes', and I could feel her lips purse as she tried to puzzle out some curious caution that seemed to have surprised the both of us at the sight of them.

"Hello." She intoned, pleasant but firm. "I am Parian. What has brought you here, today?"

Gram tilted her head approvingly. "My name is Rosalind Lafayette, and this is my granddaughter Taylor. As we discussed over the phone, she is in need of business attire."

"Taylor Hebert." I stated, holding my voice steady. Gram wasn't the sort to forget, so I had to wonder if this was some play, trying to introduce some small misconception about my name. I didn't want to think about it, and subtle social digs like that were never my forte, so I just gave her a hard glance and dropped it.

"Ah, measurement and fitting, then. Do you know what you had in mind?" Parian asked me, motioning me towards the center of the room, where a small carpet-covered wooden box floated closer. It seemed to be a pedestal to step on, but I'm not sure she'd need it, since she didn't the last time I was in. Then again, for all I knew, bowing and dipping to get at my legs in her frilly Victorian doll dress might have been fine between capes, but less so among civilian clients.

"Actually, could we talk for a second?" I should probably get this out of the way now, if I was going to tell her today.

"I have changing screens, if you'd prefer." She motioned over to a series of framed cloth separators along the far wall, some of which were artfully blocking the windows.

I shifted the strap of my bag meaningfully, and quietly added, "In private?"

She turned to Gram, her emotions cautious and indignant, though none of it showed past her mask. Gram tilted her head and waved her hand towards the doors, amused at my lackluster attempts at subtle secrecy, frustrated at my bullheaded deviance from whatever she'd had planned, ultimately indulging whatever I had in mind. I'm fairly sure she jumped straight to the not-incorrect assumption that I wanted to bring up cape things without her there.

With Gram's assent, Parian stared her down in thought for a couple seconds, before turning back and assessing me again. I could feel her wary caution giving way to frustration and confidence. "Alright, then." Her voice lilted a touch petulantly, before she motioned toward the door on the far side of the room, where I knew she was keeping my costumes and the rest of her works in progress. The other half of the long room was full of bins and shelving, housing spare materials, but the area near and across from the door was full of nearly two dozen adjustable mannequins. Most were bare, but I caught sight of a couple male-cut suits, a trio of what looked to be prom dresses, a pair of slinkier custom-fit dresses, what looked like a new version of her Parian dress, and the other two Terraform costumes, complete with gloves and a single pair of sturdy-looking boots that matched them, a third set of gloves sitting atop them.

"Well?" She asked, leaning against the shut door.

I chuckled nervously. "Sorry, I'm not very good at this..."

She heaved a small sigh. "Is this a confession, or do you have something you want repaired that you don't want your parents to know about? A boyfriend's jersey or something?"

I couldn't help the blush and stammering. "No boyfriend. I don't date people." Wait... "I'm not dating people. Anyone. Not dating. Shutting up now." I slung my bag off my shoulder and dropped into a crouch. Kill me now, this was going terribly. She stifled a chuckle, her guard shattered by the awkward mess I'd wound up. At least there was that... "I just, uhh." She froze as I pulled out the mask and costume top. "I thought you might want to see how your work held up, after Canberra."

She kept staring for a few seconds, and I gave her the time to process the revelation. "You're Terraform." I nodded, and she sighed, reaching up for her mask. I sputtered some startled sounds, but couldn't stop her before she'd removed it. "My name is Sabah." Her wig unclipped itself from the mesh holding her hair compacted against her scalp, and floated over to a mannequin's shoulder.

The first thing that came to mind was my surprise at how dark her skin was. A deep natural tan that my brain took a second to pin down on the duskier side of middle-eastern. With that shock out of the way, my eyes focused to the small but eye-catching purple gem in the crook of her nose above her left nostril. She had a few studs dotting each of her small ears, which matched the one in her small nose. Paired with her full lips and large dark eyes, she looked young for her age. Her face hinted at a cutesy punk style so at odds with her cape costume that I'd never put the two together without my enhanced senses, or seeing her standing there in Parian's dress.

"Oh, no." I muttered. "You didn't have to..."

She shook her head. "It's part of the Rules. Common courtesy when you know someone's face or name, is to give your own."

I groaned, dropping my face into my hands. "I didn't know that." I looked up at her with an apologetic wince. "I didn't mean to make you do that. I'm so sorry."

She chuckled and waved off my concern. "Don't worry about it." Her mood turned pensive. "Just... don't tell the Empire I'm not white?"

"What? No, of course not." I said as I stood up, our height difference accentuated by the way she was slumped against the wall. Without the presence of her cape persona, it was hard not to notice that I could probably rest my chin on the top of her head with remarkably little maneuvering on our parts, despite the platform shoes she had on. Given the lithe build I could sense under all those ruffles, it made her seem... small. Willowy with a regal bearing, but cute features that also left her looking a bit childlike for her age. Elfin, I think was the word. "I'd never do that."

A bit of the tension that'd permeated her form since I'd first requested some time alone unwound itself within her. "Good. I mean, I don't think they'd do anything... the only places I go are campus, where they don't have a big presence, and here... it'd be pretty stupid to attack me here with the PRT three minutes away." She nodded to herself. These sounded too well-rehearsed for something that rarely came to mind, to me. "Way easier to deal with subtle recruitment offers than threats or vandalism, though."

I nodded, and my eyes trailed down to the mask and coat in my hands. "Anyway, I just thought it'd be easier on both of us if I didn't bother making appointments for both identities. Seemed silly to dance around it." I added with a shrug.

"You're not wrong." She said through her growing smirk, amusement and some sort of fondness building within her. "But it wouldn't have been that big a deal to keep up a polite fiction like that, even if I figured it out." She clicked her tongue, head shaking slightly in thought. "Anyway, you were worried about your costume?"

I held it out to her, and it floated from my hand, the pants rising out of the bag after it. "Not worried, nothing really happened to it, and I washed the dust out, after. I just..." I started to fidget. "I figured you wouldn't have many cape clients, and... it seemed like a good excuse to bring up cape stuff." I was glancing down by the end. It seemed stupid, when I said it out loud. She was a fellow cape, and an experienced woman compared to me. I shouldn't need an excuse. Her indulgent smile wasn't helping my embarrassment any.

"Well, it looks fine. The others are finished, if you want to take them with you." Her eyes unfocused in thought, before she perked up. "Oh, I also have those clothes you left. They're up in my loft."

"Can grab them on the way out. Gloves and boots are done?" I couldn't help the touch of excitement that crept into my tone.

She chuckled, and the boots and single pair of gloves sitting on them floated over. "Not sure what I came up with for the boots will work, but it was the best I could think of." I grabbed one for a closer look. It looked like a little sleeve of the same durable cloth the rest of the costume was made from, clipped tightly to riveted fasteners in the soft bootleather. It'd cover the front of my foot from the toes to the arch, but left the heel and the rest of the soft arch free to contact the ground. "If you think of a better design, let me know. If they work, they're likely to wear down quickly, but I kept the design and can always make more of them. They're easy enough to swap out." I moved on to the gloves, and she swapped to them as well. "I wasn't sure about your hand size, but you looked like a medium from the set of basic hand forms I've got." I tugged them on. What'd looked like sleeve cuffs in the original design were actually part of the gloves, extending halfway up my forearm. Reaching under the outer layer with my other hand let me run the zipper closed, tightening it enough to stay on. I slipped my other arm into my costume sleeve before putting the glove on just to test it, and with the extra layer under it, the fit was fairly snug. The gloves themselves were tight, but the material was different. It was much thinner, and stretched a little as I flexed my fingers, only starting to feel constricting when I clenched my hand in a tight fist. "How is the fit?"

"It's fine." I said, clenching my hand another couple times. "Little tight, but that's probably on purpose?"

She waved me over, taking my hand in both of hers. "Fist, slowly." I did as asked, and she felt around my hand as I did so. Her powers tugged at the material now and then, like she'd pinched and pulled it with her fingers. "No pins and needles?" I held the fist for a moment, but shook my head. "Then it should be fine. Bring them back if your hands get any bigger, or you start to notice that feeling. There's not enough material to let them out any, but I can take them apart and replace them." She shook her head and gave a shy chuckle. "I'm... not used to making gloves people are supposed to punch in, yet."

I clenched my fists a few more times. "It's okay, hands are weird." I reached under the gloves' cuff-like hems and pulled the zippers' short drawstrings, then tugged at the fingers. They slipped off easily enough.

"Hands are so weird." She agreed, apparently happy to shift the subject. "So, I imagine you'll want to take everything with you?" I nodded, and the costumes started peeling themselves away from the mannequins, folding themselves in the air on their way into her outstretched arms. The one I'd brought followed after I'd finished slipping out of its sleeve. The boots went into my bag first, then the clothes packed in beside them. It was a big bag, but all three costumes still nearly filled it, given how thick the material was. The gloves were sat on top, and I was pretty sure I had just enough room to toss the hoodie and pants I'd left here last week on top. "Alright." She said, her wig floating back over to her. "Cape stuff done?"

"Yeah," I said with a nod, after giving it a moment's thought. "I think so."

Parian returned the nod, busy clipping her mask into the little harness that ran under her hair mesh and the little 'neck sock' that extended from her undershirt to cover her neck. She took a compact mirror from a hidden pocket, flipping it open to inspect her disguise. I wasn't sure if it was too large for her power to work with, or just personal preference. She tugged at her mask a little, checked that her ears were covered by the wig, made sure none of her neck was exposed, then flipped the mirror shut. She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders and stretching to her full height. "Shall we?" She motioned to the door, now firmly back in character.

Well, if she was playing up the dolled-up Victorian noble... "M'lady..." I gave her a wide curtsy and wider smile, which had to look ridiculous, but perhaps not as much as if I'd been wearing my usual baggy clothes. She raised a hand to her mask, tittering cutely from behind it. She was having fun, even if she wasn't as amused as she was acting for my sake. Or her character's. I chose to believe the first one. I grabbed my bag and led the way out, still smiling.

Gram glanced up from her tablet when the door opened again, and I was glad she hadn't been sitting around waiting, even though we couldn't have been in there for more than ten minutes or so. She glanced back down, finished whatever she was reading, and by the time Parian and I made it back to the middle of the room, she was putting it back in her bag. The knowing look she gave us- especially after I tossed my nearly-full bag closer to the chairs where she was sitting- told me that she was well aware of the gist of our private conversation. She didn't approve, but her emotions showed more fondness and a resigned amusement drowning out her prior frustration.

"Now then," Parian said as I stepped up on the makeshift pedestal, her measuring implements floating to her from her desk. "Your clothes are tight enough that I could measure you through them, or you could remove them. I will leave the choice to you."

I thought about it for a moment. Gram wouldn't care, and Parian had already seen me mostly undressed. In the end it came down to me not feeling as bad about my body, these days. Sure I wasn't sexy, but I wasn't pudgy anymore. My legs were toning out from all my running, my arms were bulking up a bit from the weight training, and all of my exercise was trimming down my stomach in their own ways. I felt... okay. So I peeled off my blouse and pants, before letting her get to work. She tallied the numbers down more quickly than the first time, and I wasn't sure if it was easier without the extra layers, or if she was just putting on a show for Gram, since she already had measures for me.

"Do you know what styles you'd like?" She asked when we were done, to which I could only shrug haplessly.

"Business formal." Gram supplied, then briefly hesitated. "I believe... a skirt and jacket, would be nice."

Like the ones she wore? I was expecting some sort of suit coat, but I'd originally figured on pants since I was more comfortable in them. Parian hummed, her eyes raking down my body. "You do have very nice legs." I could feel my cheeks and chest heating up. I hated how skinny my hips were, but my legs were okay... if they thought they were nice enough to show off... and I was trying to ease myself into less masculine clothing choices. A skirt I'd only wear on special occasions and could probably ignore forever when Gram left town sounded like a good first step.

"Alright." I said with a nod, partly to make myself feel more confident with the choice. "We'll go with the skirt."

Parian nodded, moving to retrieve a small style book from beside her desk. "What length would you like? Do you want it open, tight, slitted?" When she returned, I was shown a handful of basic examples.

"I don't want it long enough to trip over, and I'd like it to restrict movement as little as possible... medium and not tight?" I hedged.

She hummed. "We could combine options. leave an overlapping split from the middle of the side, that you could close with buttons?" She ran her finger down the side of one of the images, from mid-thigh to the knees, where she circled her finger. "If you think you might need more range of motion, you could take a couple seconds to unbutton them." She gave me a moment to ponder it. "I think large buttons, a very obvious style choice. We could use the same buttons for the waist, offset to the opposite side?"

That didn't look too bad in my head, actually. Gram gave an assenting nod when I looked to her for advice. "That sounds fine."

"Onto the jacket." Parian nodded, turning some pages. "Open, half-close, or full-close?" She indicated a series of images, depicting an open jacket, one that closed under the bust, or one that closed over the bust. The first looked far too casual to me, I didn't think Gram would approve. Despite being what she wore, I didn't have the bust to make the second look good... hell, I wanted to draw attention away from my tiny tits, if I could...

"Fully closed, I think." I tapped myself on my sternum, above where my cleavage would be, if I had any.

She nodded, feeling a little surprised. "Alright. That will give you a lot more options for what to wear under it. Did you have a color in mind?"

That wasn't exactly the line of thinking I had, but that was a good point. Considering the colors question... "Something dark?" ...and easier to take care of.

Parian hummed. "Navy blue is fairly common, as a classic choice."

"That works." I said with a shrug. She extended her hand, and a roll of dark blue cloth floated off the racks and over to us. She took a pair of scissors from her kit, and cut a long two-foot wide strip from it, which folded itself up and wrapped itself around my waist, several pins that'd begun orbiting us threading themselves into the folds. "Wait, we're building this now?"

The living doll cocked its head in my direction, and I could feel Sabah's eyebrow raised under the mask. "Yes?"

I looked to Gram, who gave a satisfied smile, which hid her amusement at my mild alarm well enough. "The more of it that gets done today, the sooner it will be finished."

Obviously, but... I heaved a sigh, which had Gram smiling harder, and Parian raising a hand to her mask's mouth, pretending to stifle another tittering laugh. She still felt amused at my reticence, though. I knew on some level I'd expected this, but I'd hoped I wouldn't need to play mannequin for however long this was going to take. "Yeah, okay."

Gram chuckled, while Parian floated some cloth forms over to us, a flat piece of cloth that looked like a T-shirt floating up to press against my back. "This reminds me of the last time I did this, with your mother. She was about your age, and we were having something similar made."

That had me blinking, then looking over in confusion. My voice was curious and hopeful, when I asked, "Mom liked things like this?" I indicated the fabric cylinder pinned around my hips, and the forms pressed against me, which Parian was still measuring and marking notes about.

Gram outright laughed at that. "Oh, my, no." She shook her head as her dark amusement petered into chuckles. "She absolutely abhorred skirts and dresses, when she was your age. If they weren't a product of 'sexist propaganda' then they were a symbol of 'pandering to the patriarchy'..." She trailed off. I was surprised, though. Mom used to wear skirts and dresses all the time, especially to work. Parian's work slowed, the girl obviously listening in, though she felt awkward about it. "...it was one of the last things we did together, before she ran off to college." From the emphasis, I knew she was talking about Lustrum. She chuckled again. "I don't think she ever actually wore the thing..."

On the one hand, we were hardly alone. On the other, Gram was feeling wistful, reminiscing about the past... and I was incredibly curious... "What was mom like, before that?"

She crowed happily at the thought. "Oh, she was a sweet girl. Shy and bookish, before she went to school and found her stubborn streak. Studious, took well to her tutors, looked up to her brother, doted on her sister..." Her smile faltered. "I think, that was part of the problem. We had them tutored through primary... accelerated curriculum, specialized lessons, then we'd send them to preparatory, around middle school." Gram paused for a bit, long enough that Parian had finished with the half-shirt front pieces that were pressed against me and measured. "She hated school. Her marks were good, but she hardly interacted with her peers. Hated how the world wasn't like her storybooks. Hated how the boys were always expected to excel and thrive, while many of the other girls were expected to simply catch the eye of the right boy, or contribute just enough to be noticed before settling down, or..." She sighed. "She refused outright to continue private schooling. Insisted on a public high school." She spat the word like it'd offended her, then took a moment to calm down before continuing. "Her father talked her down to an academy near the college. Private, if barely. They still mingled with the local public school crowds, which appealed to her." I turned away, to watch Parian cutting shapes out of the roll of cloth, based on the notes she'd taken. "I never should have let her go." Gram muttered. "But her brother was off at Harvard, set to settle down with a nice girl, and her sister was taking so much of our attention, we settled for 'good enough' with Annette."

"And then college?" I prompted.

Gram nodded. "She came home, a rebellious spitfire that looked nothing like our little girl. She wanted nothing to do with high society, the family businesses, or starting her own family. We could have stopped her from leaving, but we were part of the problem, to her. Give her a few years, we thought. Let her work it out of her system. Then Behemoth came to New York, and Lilian's infection..." Gram wilted. "Then it was just the two of us left."

It took me a while, to figure out what to say to that. Parian started fitting the cloth patches together on top of me, pins holding them together after they folded into shape. She felt... really uncomfortable, but Gram didn't seem to care that she was here. I gave her a shy, apologetic smile, and she returned it, from behind her front of stoic professionalism. "I miss her, too." I said, finally. "You'll have to tell me about Uncle John and Aunt Lilly sometime. Mom didn't mention them very often... but, what do you think of the suit?"

She blinked, her eyes flicking over the setting for a moment, from the room, to me, to Parian. I could feel the spike of alarm before her emotions evened out. She gave a deep, thoughtful hum to cover her pause, before nodding. "The colors and cut suit you well, dear. Were you planning on a straight professional trim, or something curved and fashionable?"

I gave a confused grunt, and turned my head to Parian. She daintily lifted one of her small gloved hands to line her fingers up with my sternum, a couple inches away. "We can go with a boxier, less common cut," she drew her fingers straight down, only curving into the bottom hem in the last inch or two from the skirt. Then she returned the hand to its starting position. "or we can curve a little, which is the most common variation." The fingers shifted away at a slight angle just under my ribs, this time. "Or, we can widen the curve, to give a splash of color near your midriff from the undershirt." This time it was a deeper constant curve away. "Any more than that, and we might defeat the purpose of a professional suit. This is the easiest to curve into a shorter hem in the back, if you'd prefer."

"Lower back hem is fine." I didn't want to encourage people looking at my butt, anyway. "The normal cut looked fine, maybe overlapped a little more? Less color, there." The fewer eyes on my stomach, or drawn to my unfeminine hips, the better.

She gave a brief hum, then the cloth held together over my torso shifted away, pins removing themselves, cloth refolding and re-pinning, before it returned. There was more overlap over my ribs now, the diagonal pulling away from it more sharply than she'd indicated, but less than the showy version. In the end, between the closed coat and the skirt, there was only a small triangle of my stomach barely visible. With how shadowed it'd be in most lightings, I doubted even wearing something bright would make it particularly eye-catching. "Now, for the top. Most suit jackets don't close this high, so I wanted to try something special with it." She indicated towards the right side of my bust, about mirrored from where my heart would be on the left. "If we move the buttons up and to the right, we change the profile of the cut enough to be unique and memorable, without too overtly altering the style." She dropped her hand and cocked her hip, which had the effect of cutely flaring her ruffles. "It also brings them further in line with the pattern set by the skirt, right, left, right," She pointed first at the lower-right corner of the skirt, then the left side of my hip, then the right of my chest. "which helps to tie both parts together as a matching ensemble."

I thought about it, and the image that came to mind looked good, but I didn't know if it was fashionable. Parian seemed happy with it though, and Gram gave an assenting nod when I glanced her way. "Yeah, alright. That sounds fine."

The cloth pulled away and re-pinned itself again, the angle of the diagonal trim shifting slightly, but mostly just extending up a bit more. I spied a pair of colored pins at the extending point, which I figured were placeholders for buttons. "This does mean the collaring on the trim will be a bit shorter and higher, than normal." A couple scraps from the earlier cuts floated our way, folding themselves into triangular shapes and pressing against the neckline of the jacket. A longer strip had folded itself into a collar, wrapping around the back of my neck and flared into two smaller triangular shapes just underneath but higher on the neckline than the first ones. "Is this acceptable?" It didn't seem very different to how I imagined suit collaring to look, so I shrugged and nodded. Then she waved a hand along my arm, would have been sliding it down my forearm but for the couple inches between us, and my arm found itself tugged upward by the unfinished sleeves around them. "Would you like an open cuff, or a rolled cuff? Open would leave the sleeve material shorter, intended not to be rolled, which gives an impression of informality. Rolled cuffs require more material, leaving the base sleeve too long to properly leave unrolled, unless you want to roll them higher up your arm. That would give the impression that you're a workman, which tends to be the wrong signal to send if you're wearing a suit at all. I'd suggest wrist-length sleeves either way, but rolled gives us more options for functional buttoning, if you'd rather not bother with cufflinks."

"Cufflinks?" I knew what they were, Dad and Mom both had a couple sets of them, but it'd been so long since I'd seen either actually use them, that I felt like asking.

Both of them seemed to take my question as 'what are cufflinks' rather than 'should I bother with them', though. "Like a pair of buttons, threaded through two buttonholes, instead of a single button-and-hole set." Parian stated, while Gram held up one of her sleeves. I caught sight of the shiny button there, which I noted to be an older coin on closer inspection, welded to another inside the sleeve by a short bar. Honestly, the whole notion struck me as a form of 'businessman jewelry' which… I couldn't immediately see the appeal of it.

I shook my head. "I don't think so? Maybe the buttons."

Parian hummed. "I can easily add the buttoning for them, in addition to an actual button. If you chose to switch over later, the original button would be completely hidden in the cuff."

"Huh. Yeah, options are nice. Let's go with that." Part of my plan for this suit was to be a stepping stone for things, dissociating jewelry and accessorizing from memories with Emma would be nice, too. Mom had jewelry and accessories, but she was never excited about them the same way Emma was.

The sleeves unfurled, curling back on themselves and leaving about two and a half inches of material folded over itself to form the cuffs. "Last important detail." Parian stated, after making a few notes and inspecting her work so far. "You don't seem like a purse girl, so I assume you are going to want pockets?"

I'm sure it said something about me, that I was more alarmed she thought not having pockets was even an option than anything else. "Yes, definitely pockets." I answered.

She nodded. "Please place your hands where they would comfortably rest inside a pocket." I rested my hands on my stomach above the cloth, and she made a couple more notes on her sheets, sliding a couple pins into the cloth beside my hands for reference. "Now slide them back and forth, along a comfortable path for putting your hands in the pockets." She leaned closer to watch my hands and made a couple more notes. "Now stop your hands near the top of that arc, about where you want the opening for the pockets to be." I did so, prompting more notes and pins. She started flipping through her reference book again as she asked, "Do you prefer open pockets, button-shut, or hidden zippers?"

In an emergency, I might not have time to change clothes… I supposed it'd be nice to not lose my phone or wallet, but I didn't like the few button-close pockets I had on a couple of my pants. "Zippers."

She marked it down, and showed me a couple pages from the book. "Pick a pocket style, please." Most of them were embroidery patterns, stylized sewing marks from the pocket attachments, or layers of additional material over top of the pocket's edge. I picked out one of the ones without much visible threadwork, to make the pockets less obvious. "I can also add hidden pockets on the inside. Under the hem, or as a breast pocket. Pockets in the shadow of your breast-line could help hide things like a wallet, or a second cell phone."

It was hilarious that she thought my breasts were big enough to hide anything, natural curve of a suit jacket or not. "I guess more pockets are better. Options for the future, and such." I could always hold out hope that I'd graduate out of A-cup mosquito-bites eventually. I appreciated the thought towards helping with my cape life, though.

Parian noted that down, floating one of the changing screens over as she circled me to check everything again, stopping to the side of it, as it set down in front of me. The inside of the panels were large mirrors, but it blocked Gram's line of sight, which might have been why she hadn't had it up before now. "We're almost done. I just want to check over everything, to be sure. Skirt hem length is okay?"

I knew what it looked like, but the new vantage helped put it in perspective. I looked… sleek, I supposed. I was still a beanpole, and it was pretty painfully obvious why they called these 'pencil' skirts, since my body was more of a curve-less cylinder. Still, even if I didn't look like a woman, I certainly looked important. While I had paused to look, Parian had floated over a set of large black buttons, about the size of quarters. "These are what I had in mind, for reference." They pressed themselves into the cloth. They blended in fairly well against the dark cloth, but were large enough to catch the eye anyway, without looking ridiculous. Two of them were right at the lower hem, which ended just above my knees.

My knees themselves were still bony, but they weren't the unsightly protrusions bulging out from a pair of twigs they'd been before I started running. I was proud of the tone I'd worked into my legs. I could deal with showing them off, a little. "The skirt is fine, and so are the buttons."

"Jacket hem?" She asked, and I nodded. "Cuffs are good?" The questions continued for a bit, as I confirmed all the little details, and she checked them off of her little list of notes. Eventually we were done, the mirror divider folding itself away back in its corner of the room with the rest. She gently slipped the half-finished suit off my shoulders, pinning markers into the skirt before it curled away to follow its top across the room. They reassembled on one of the adjustable torsos, which seemed oddly well calibrated to my sizes, given I hadn't noticed her adjusting it or swapping it out for one of the two my Terraform suits had been on. Probably the one from the costume I grabbed on Thursday, I decided after a moment's deliberation. I stepped off the platform and started squeezing back into my clothes for the day, while Parian stepped away a bit and flounced theatrically, flaring her ruffles as she dipped into a curtsy. "I should have it done by Tuesday afternoon."

That had me goggling a bit. It took my costumes two weeks. Sure, Parian didn't have the material in stock, so she would've had to wait on a shipment or had to go or send someone to pick the cloth up, but even then... how much was Gram paying for this suit? They hadn't mentioned prices or money at all since we got here. Either they'd worked it out ahead of time, or this was the sort of 'blank cheque' situation that left me feeling distinctly uncomfortable all of a sudden. Gram stood, apparently taking the words with the same 'conclusion of business' sentiment as I had.

"So we're done?" I asked, just to be sure. Gram nodded, quirking her brow.

"Unless you have some other business?" Parian asked, her curiosity well hidden behind a veil of professionalism.

"I did have a couple questions... about cape life and such, if you have time for it." Smooth lie, there. Neither were fooled, but politely ignored it. I turned to Gram. "I was thinking of hanging around the Boardwalk for a bit today, anyway. I can call you later, to start planning out our meetings and things, since I'll have my suit starting Wednesday?" She thought for a moment, and nodded. So I turned back to our hostess. "Do you mind me staying for a few minutes?"

She hummed and pretended to consider it. "That would be acceptable." She turned to Gram and gave a short, respectful bob. "I'll see you out?" Gram nodded, and slowly walked to the door. Parian turned back to me. "Please wait here, a moment." Her youthful stride quickly caught up, despite her shorter legs. She opened the door and the two walked downstairs, trading words I couldn't read, but seemed pleasant enough from their moods. When she returned, she skipped over the room I was in, heading instead for the stairwell up to the loft. There she took a moment to search, and came back down with the clothes I'd left. "Here they are. Did you actually have questions, or were you just ditching your supervision for the day?" Already her carefully crafted character was cracking, as she grinned at me from under her mask. I took the clothes and stashed them in the front pouch of my bag, since I was running out of room.

"Nah, I really was going to do some training. She doesn't need to be there for that." Plus, I had no intention of telling her driver I was a cape.

"Powers practice, or working out?" She asked curiously, while pulling the three shirts she was working on when we arrived back from the wall to start work finishing them up.

I shook my head. "Powers, I did my workout this morning. Why?"

She grinned, and it showed in her voice. "If you have a way to make a show of it, you could do it on the Boardwalk, or somewhere public. That's what I did until I could convince places to start hiring me for advertising shows. You've got good press right now, but more visibility rarely hurts."

Right, she'd probably seen the news articles or PHO threads, too. "Is everyone better at PR than me?" Her grin faded, and I could tell she was worried I'd been insulted. "I'm just bad with people, and don't like attention." Wait, that sounded wrong. "I mean, I don't know how to handle attention, anymore. I don't mind if people like or talk about me." As long as it's not behind my back, or whispered insults I'm supposed to hear, or insults to my face. I shook my head and started thinking out loud. "Yeah, some visibility would be good, though. You're not the only one to mention it. I guess... I could practice waterbending on the pier? Water's not as scary as fire, and it's flashier than earth or air."

"That sounds good."

We descended into silence for a bit, after that. I cleared my throat before it could get awkward. "Anyway, the thing I really wanted to mention... my Gram's been looking to invest in the Bay area, since I'm not moving away. That's what we needed the suit for, actually. She wants me to sit in on business meetings." Her work was slowing considerably as she absorbed my words. She felt wary, confused, mild alarm. "We don't have to do anything, if you don't want!" I cut in. "I just... I figured I still owed you from before, and just bringing in more business didn't seem like it was enough. Just... think about it?"

She still felt wary, but her confusion had swapped for consideration, her alarm now determination. "I can... think about it, yeah."

I nodded. Best I could do, I think. "Well, I'll be back Tuesday if you want to talk about it, then. Uh, I should... don't want to overstay my welcome..." My words devolved into nervous mutterings.

"You're fine." She scoffed, the needles she was controlling pinning themselves down as she rose to her feet. "But I won't keep you. See you out?" She headed for the door without waiting for an answer. I moved to grab my bag, full of costumes, to head out and dress up for my public practice, something still itching in the back of my mind. I glanced at Parian, her wig's full head of ring-curls bouncing behind her and catching my eye.

"Wait!" I called, and she stopped, turning back. I started to fidget a little. "I, uh. I still haven't learned how to put my hair up, for my costume. I was too burnt out to think on it after Thursday though, and I've been busy all weekend..." I pulled the steel needles she'd used for my hair out of one of my bag's side pouches, clutching them to my chest as I gave her my best, out-of-practice puppy eyes. "Could you... show me? Again? Please?"

She stared at me for a bit, her chest tightening as her emotions fluttered. They settled into an odd mix of affection, trepidation, caution, fear, attraction... I blushed and glanced away, for how little that helped. Sabah sighed, unlatching her mask and wig on her way over to me, one of the chairs tugging itself in her wake by its cloth components. "Alright, have a seat." I did so, and she came up behind me, even as her wig carried her mask through the air over to her stool. The mirrors floated back to us, the screen curling around us so that we could see my hair from the side and back without turning too much. "I don't know if you can copy what I did with my powers somehow, but I can show you that again, and how to do it by hand." She tapped her fingers to my scalp, and the tingles flowed through my skin like last time. My hair straightened behind the chair's back, and pulled itself into a bun. I handed her the pins, and she put them in. "The trick is to pull everything together so that there's only a couple places cinching everything down that need to be made tighter." She pulled the pins, tugged my hair out of the curl, and did it again. "Hair actually has a lot of friction and surface area, it all holds together really well if you can get it tight in the right way." She said to fill the air, while she worked.

"I think... I might be able to do that with water?" I said, after she'd undone it again. I leaned down over the chair's armrest, grabbing mom's thermos out of my bag's other side-pouch. "If I can control the water well enough, I can use it like a thousand tiny hands..." I uncapped it, and let the water flow out. Sabah had backed away when I moved, so I just let it flow over my mane. There was enough to coat everything, holding it straight, pulling it into a curl... pinning it down... I drew the water away, and part of the bun frizzed out, trying to follow it. I sighed and tried again. It took three more, but I managed it. "I think... I've got that down now. I'd still like to learn to do it by hand, if you have the time?"

She'd felt pretty amazed by my powers, when I'd started showing them off. I'd wondered if powers like ours, with such fine control, were rare. Her emotions had tapered off in the few minutes I'd spent practicing, settling into that mix of fondness and fear from before. She laughed at my concern for her schedule. "You were my only appointment today. I usually spend Sundays on homework, or in the store mingling with the weekend crowd." She started stroking my hair, brushing it out with her powers. It felt nice. "Don't worry about me. Anyway, usually it's easier to braid hair before bunning it, if you're going by-hand." By the end of the five seconds it took her to float a hair-tie to her from somewhere, my hair had pulled itself into a basic braid. "In this case, it's just balling it up and sticking a pin through the end." She rolled the hair up, tucked the tip of my hair under a thicker part of the braid, and slotted a single needle through it. "Easy enough." She pulled the pin, tugged the hair free, pulled the tie off, and my hair unbraided itself under her power. Then she put my hair into a ponytail with the tie. "Without braiding, it's harder, but just takes practice." She twisted the hair a bit, hooked a finger under the now-spiraling tail, twisting the hair over it, and started reeling it around the spool she formed from the first bit of the tail. This time she pinned it in a couple places, and it only frayed out a little more than it did when she used her powers for it. "Okay, give that a few tries, then you should probably head out, before Cindy and Tammi start getting ideas about what we must be doing up here, unsupervised."

I blushed. Those must be her employees' names, since I recognized the girl who'd showed us up here. "Do they... usually think that sort of thing?" How many people did Parian have alone with her, and how often were they given reason to think she might be doing... things with her clients? Was... was Sabah gay?

She snorted, her amusement taking a dark turn. "They're socialite fashionistas, who decided working for a cape in Brockton Bay was a perfect start to their careers. I'm sure at least half the rumors about me on PHO were started by my employees."

Huh. I... might need to check out her thread, then. I gave the bun a good five tries, but none of them looked anywhere near as good as hers did. "You're on the right track, though. Just keep practicing."

I nodded and grabbed my bag, putting the needles and thermos away, and slipping it onto my shoulders while Sabah reset the room and her costume. If she wasn't going to ask for them back, I might as well keep them, right? "Thanks again, Sabah. I... know I keep imposing. I really appreciate all of your help."

By now she had her mask on, to hide the darkening of her cheeks. She shook her head and laughed. "It's no problem." She paused, taking a moment to breathe and get back in character. "You're very welcome." She added, with a tiny curtsy bob and a nod. I chuckled, smiling and nodding back. I followed her through the door and down the stairs, trailing behind as she glided through the store proper, drawing eyes and 'ooh's as she went. She stopped by the door. "Thank you for stopping by. I hope to see you again, soon." She stated sweetly, and even I could hear the subtle 'I hope to take more of your money, soon' in the words. She felt amused, so my guess was intentionally distancing herself from me personally, for the sake of the crowd. Didn't want anyone getting ideas that I was more than just another customer, so I decided to play along.

"Thanks again, Parian. I'll see you soon!" I wasn't sure I could actually pull off vapid commercialist, but I gave it my best shot. She snorted as I pushed through the door, and shook her head before moving to mingle with the crowd.

Now then... I stretched my senses as far as I could up and down the bayfront, considering the quays and piers along the boardwalk. If I was going to make a show of things, I had to consider my options carefully.