outfit

Juliette’s curiosity had been piqued when she’d seen the ad in the Daily Prophet: an elegant but sumptuous appeal, prettily worded, hyper tasteful. She had mused over it, the looks on both Landis’ and Darian’s faces if she showed curiosity. But she also knew, in a more serious, sincere line of thought, that it was exactly the sort of work she could manage and still make time for commissions. Her family predicament had begun to temper, but still kept Juliette plenty occupied as winter’s last storms brewed. It had been more than enough to prevent her from returning to the castle in time for the new semester, and indeed from teaching full-time in the near future. She hoped this would change over the months, and that she might return in a semester or two to resume and further her teaching career, but for now she refused to sit idly in the time she did not spend dealing with family ordeals or freelancing for private customers.

Her interest had only heightened when Landis had mentioned it in casual conversation on the very same night Juliette had seen the ad. She knew he hadn’t meant it as an option for her, and so naturally she had not bothered to tell him that she made an appointment with Darian. If she shared some of the Landis' opinions of his cousin, it did not mean that Juliette and Darian could not establish a professional relationship. She found his work masterly and took pleasure in dressing well. There was common ground between the community to which the potioneer had once belonged, as a perfumer, and the community to which Darian Morgan belonged as a tailor and designer. They shared a luxury market, customers of good taste and particular means. Juliette had a handful of acquaintances who worked in the magical beauty community— potioneers who engineered face-clearing elixirs, magical aestheticians well stocked in miracle exfoliants, and makeup artists who traded in lavishly expensive, charmed lipsticks and magical mascaras that painted the faces of witches about town and the luxe club-going crowd. They all knew and respected Darian Morgan, coveted his designs.

The owl which she had sent and the confirmation from his assistant had both been seemingly routine. Juliette might have been any other customer looking for a private audience with the tailor. There was hardly an echo as her heels traced the final few cobbles before the door of Libertine. Upon stepping into the shop, she was met with the familiar witch who was Darian’s righthand woman. Juliette confirmed that she was there for an appointment. “I’m in no rush,” she assured the woman calmly, though she did not doubt Darian’s punctuality for private fittings. Her light gaze took in the shop’s offerings as she waited for him to make his appearance.

It was with a light heart and a rabidly curious mind that that Darian danced out to greet his next appointment for the afternoon, one Juliette Vaillancourt looking airy and pristine in a white peplum dress. He and she had an interesting history of stories told by other people, their own meetings numbering below what could be counted with one hand. He could help but suspect her presence here today had something to do with Landis - because of course, though many things came to mind when Darian thought of Juliette, her connection with Landis was always first. It was perhaps unkind to her, though Darian hardly cared; he had met her through Landis and he would continue to think of her as an extension of his rather entertaining-to-rouse cousin until she gave him reason to take an interest in her based on her own traits and merits.

"Juliette!" he greeted her, his bright smile and the little bound in his step redolent of irrepressible charm and energy. "What a thoroughly unexpected pleasure!" He was quite excited at this new mystery dropped into his shop, and he having no idea of it until he'd checked the books for today's appointments. Though tempted - nearly driven - to take her hands in his and kiss the backs of them, he refrained only with Herculean effort. It was certainly an action that would have annoyed his cousin, which was the exact opposite of a dissuading factor - but Juliette would be surprised by his enthusiasm, as she had no real way to know his reasons (simply that an enthusiastic Darian was animated in the extreme) and he should, after all, begin somewhat professionally. For all he knew, she was simply here to commission a new dress.

Which would be fun too. Darian liked the idea of Landis undressing her and frowning at the sight of Libertine's ostentatious label. Nearly any path Juliette's presence promised would be fun.

Mindful of that reason, and that Juliette had made an appointment - hinting at business reasons over personal - it was with a servile inclination of his head that he asked, "How might I assist you today?" His perfect manners were tinted with a personal warmth and a subtle humor not usual to the majority of his customers.

No one could deny the simple, objective fact that Darian Morgan was charming. He dripped charm in the same way that some of his clients must have been dripping with diamonds, and it was a charm inherent as old money and centuries of pedigree marriage. It seemed to be in his blood.

“Darian,” she returned the greeting with a calm, elegant smile, the sort of mild-tempered but certainly not unfriendly greeting she might have reserved for a little-known colleague— or future employer. Their last layered conversation had ended on a curious note, to say the least, and if Juliette was not overly certain that today might end on a higher one, she hardly came across as reserved. She was not a reserved woman. She was a carefully (and at times hot-headedly) determined one. “Not an alarming one, I hope.” She did not think any pleasure could alarm this man, her fellow redhead. If her voice suggested that she did hope to be just a little bit alarming, though, no one could blame her.

She took him in, the graceful movements, a way carrying one’s self that Juliette could always admire, whatever her personal feelings toward him. He seemed, by his tone and comportment, to be genuinely curious and prepared to assist her if he could. She opened her mouth just a little, smiling again, reflecting his warmth. “I was actually hoping I might assist you.”

"I don’t know whether you’re aware, but a personal ordeal has removed me from my post at the school. I’ve been freelancing for old clients, but my personal hurdles are finally calming down. Teaching is currently out of the question.” She could not be on hand at the castle 24 hours a day, and so she had reluctantly resigned. Subpar work was not an option. "I was told you’re looking for help— and your ad was by far the most intriguing.” Her next smile was complimentary, almost a lighthearted smirk, and her intention and regard were both apparent in her gaze. It was also obvious, if unspoken, that it had been Landis who had mentioned it. And surely they both knew how the blond Morgan might feel about Juliette’s inquiry. “Have you filled the position already?"

"It wouldn't be a pleasure if it wasn't pleasurable," he reassured Juliette, flashing her a flirtatious little smile. His mind ran along a similar path as hers - he wouldn't object to a little alarm, and one provided by a beautiful woman with an untrustworthy smile could hardly be regretted.

“I was actually hoping I might assist you.”

"Oh," he said, clearly taken aback but not in any particularly negative way. Well, he'd never thought she would be here for this reason. He was surprised but not opposed to the idea. No, not opposed to the idea at all. He eyed her speculatively, the glint in his eyes of a different nature than Juliette might be accustomed to seeing from men. She was a graceful and fashionable creature, and really - for this position - he wasn't looking for much more than that.

"No, I haven't filled it," he replied. "None have applied that met my... measure." There came a flash of that smile again. Darian amused himself with his little puns. "Have you ever worked any sort of sales position? I'm primarily looking for someone to work weekend and morning shifts, though the hours are somewhat negotiable."

Glad that unexpected was not unwelcome, Juliette offered another, smaller smile at Darian’s initial oh-- and the news that the position had not been filled. His measure. She continued to stare at him, holding his gaze: whether it was a physical quality or something else, Juliette did not ask. She did not feel she needed to. There was enough cheekiness in his brilliant smile to make assumptions, but then Darian could be surprising. Whatever quality he was looking for, she could only hope— and perhaps even assume, in her confidence— that she possessed it. Which put them both in good if occasionally questionable company.

“I worked in beauty sales in Paris when apprenticing with my first perfumer, though it was primarily training,” she confessed. Everyone who came through the shop and laboratory to train had had to earn their stripes, Juliette included, but she had taken to the potions room easily, as had been anticipated— she would have not have been made apprentice otherwise. Still, she knew how to greet, assist, and entice customers, work a register. She was an organized woman; a potioneer had to be. This was work that agreed with her commissions schedule until she could resume her career full-time. “And my uncle is a wandmaker. I worked in his shop sometimes, as well.” It had been Thomas who had adopted the eccentric, almost hermit lifestyle of a wandmaker, but Juliette had always been good with the customers, possessed the required social skills.

She nodded. “I’m quite flexible. Mornings and weekends suit me— If you don’t mind my continuing to freelance on my off hours,” she clarified, pausing to give him time to answer. Her perfume and potions clients were, after all, where the bulk of her income came from, even when she had been teaching. But Juliette took those at her leisure, presently, having had to put her family ordeal first for the past couple of months. It would be good to start something fresh before she settled on a longterm plan. "I may even know a few of your regular clients.”