Darian Morgan was a godsend. He truly was. An excellent designer, and a fabulous person in every way. Liadan had been going to him for years- always enjoying his designs and his care for her more modest and dated styles. There was more to life than modern fashionistas, not everyone could be Dolly St. James, and Liadan enjoyed the fact that he could keep her looking traditional without having her look like her grandmother. (Not that Liadan ever minded looking like her grandmother, but on occasion that was not very beneficial. Especially if she was going out with Lotte and Melly.)

She needed his help now more than ever. It seemed that her relationship with Oscar Whitman was blossoming into something a tad more serious than she was accustomed to, which also seemed to mean spending days with Oscar at the beach and on the boat. In the past, she cared little for such activity- but if Oz enjoyed it, she was determined to enjoy it as well. She was also determined to look damn good doing it and make him the envy of every man in wizarding society.

Thus Liadan had owled Darian about needing time for a fitting and a few new items for her wardrobe- keeping the unveiling of her specific needs for seeing him in person. Liadan was curious to see his reaction when she requested bathing suits, beach clothes, and appropriate outfits to wear upon the boat.

"Darian, darling!" Liadan crowed as she swept in throught he doors of Libertine, clad in the usual- yards and yards of material, as though she had stepped out of some sort of Victorian painting. "It is so lovely to see you!" Liadan kissed both of his cheeks with enthusiasm, then looked around his shop. "Seems that business is going quite well for you." It was obvious that what went on in here was expensive work. "Tell me, darling, what all have you been doing since we last met? Oh it has been far too long! Don't let me go forever without seeing you again! It makes me feel oh so dreadful!"

"Liadan!" Darian strolled over to her, eyes sparkling, curls afire. He was pleased, yes, very very pleased, at the turn this afternoon had taken - well, that was cheating, he'd known she was coming. One would not have guessed it by the enthusiasm with which he greeted her. Darian bent over her hand with a dramatic flourish and bounced back up again just in time to receive some kisses of his own, lily-light, on each sculpted cheek. "How naughty of you to stay away for so long! It's all very well and good for you to try and shift the blame on me, yes, but have you ever considered how my heart pines amid these scurrilous appointments and magazine interviews and lowtown bumming?" He drew himself up, laid a hand over heart in sweet suffering plea. Today he was elegantly understated in black with silver embroidery, so he made a very nice picture doing so. "I," he informed her, "even had a couch installed in the back so that I had something upon which to collapse and properly wither away during your extended shoptime absence."

Darian had been dressing Liadan since his shop'd barely been open and she a doll-faced pureblood of the most traditional order. She'd thawed since sixteen, at least towards him. It helped that he no longer had her mother hovering over his shoulder. Oh, his reputation! It had been established so very early. But if you couldn't trust one pureblood with another, he'd bemoaned to himself after every sharp maternal glare, who could you trust?

Liadan had proved a most loyal customer over the years, and a wonderful conveyor of information which, for some reason or another, was best regarded in delighted whispers over tea and cress sandwiches, macaroons, little frosted cakes, and other paraphernalia of idleness. If there was one thing Darian appreciated more than a sweet and steady customer it was one who could keep him abreast of the current social situation. He just kept his more scandalous tales out of the light, did not attempt to scandalize (much) or flirt (only lightly) and all stayed well between the petite heiress and his handsome reprobate self.

"What's your desire today, m'lady, and how may I help you reach it?"

Liadan giggled quietly when he informed her that he'd had a couch installed. "I am quite certain that the couch in the back has much more of a use to you than withering away in my absence," she jested. "Though I suppose we should come to a consensus on the matter. We are both equally to blame, and it shall never happen again, yes?" Unless, of course, she had to step out of society's eye for an extended period of time again. It would not surprise her were that the case. Though she was trying oh so very hard these days to stay on her best behavior and out of even the most trivial spots of trouble.

She snaked her arm around his, and looked up at him as though what she were about to request were some great secret. Her voice even dropped to a much more quiet tone. "Darian, darling, I do believe you might just die of absolute shock when I tell you what it is I need from you this time. But you must be sure to keep the details of this order strictly between us. I should hate to ruin the hard work I've put in or jinx the good luck which has befallen me as of late."

Still with her arm wrapped around his, Liadan stepped in front of Darian and peered up at him with her mismatched eyes, a slightly mischevious grin in place. "I am in need, my dearest friend, of some beachwear. I find myself romantically entangled with a man who enjoys going out on a boat and visiting the beach, and I am afraid that I am hardly prepared for it. What little bit I had, my family threw away when I was in France. They crowed on and on about how it was so old fashioned, dated, and how it would embarrass them should I be seen on their beaches wearing the stuff."