With his life in order, his apartment furnished and his dog finally back with him, Landon was feeling just a little more at home in London. The weather, however, he could never get used to. Then again, there was no other weather like Louisiana weather. When they said sunny in Lacombe? They meant blazing with the heat of a thousand suns, not almost, maybe warm.

There was, however, the issue of his wardrobe. Melbourne hadn't only been a complete cock-up because of the job going to hell in a handbasket at the last minute, but also because of Gina. Ah, sweet terrifying Gina. Why did women always have to be so dramatic? Landon, quite frankly, thought it was completely unnecessary to make a Viking funeral pyre out of his entire belongings. They had only been together for two weeks and he had never promised her exclusivity. Perhaps the moving in part might've given her the wrong impression...

Water under the bridge, anyhow. It took a short owl to an old and somehow dear - if terrifying, this seemed to be turning into a pattern - blonde friend to get a good recommendation as to where he might get his needs met. Libertine Ltd. said the the business card he received by owl, joined only by a short note signed in the elegant flourished hand writing of his friend. Casse-toi, Landon. I'm busy this time of year. -Aria

Well, friend might've been just a bit inaccurate.

He opened the door to the fancy looking shop, and was immediately hit with a wave of something pleasant and spicy that he couldn't quite place. Maybe sandalwood? What was even more pleasant, however, was the view that greeted him. Sure, the sparkly, shiny things were probably beautiful, but for a man whose idea of fashion meant the same henley in maybe three different shades - of black - that meant little. And, even for someone else, Landon was sure they would've paled, because the man -or was it boy? he had a youthful sort of appearance, but his eyes spoke of anything but youthful innocence - was quite something to look at.

Landon smiled, toothy and charming, the smile he saved as a last resort when things weren't quite going his own way. And wasn't that something to ponder on... One eyebrow arched slightly, maybe intrigued or simply quizzical. "Bonjour, y'all" he drawled in a chipper but intent voice. "A little birdie told me I could find some excellent suits here?" he asked, his other eyebrow joining in question, smile drawing to one corner, playfully and almost coyly.

It was strange to be back in London, where even at the beginning of summer the wind around the buildings was nippy. Fortunately in Libertine's silken and lightly-scented embrace it didn't matter what the weather was like outside. In the dead of winter or "heat" of July Libertine sold velvet robes and linen suits interchangeably. The temperature was always the same; the light quality from the skylights never changed. It did not seem like Darian had spent the last months in Paris. Everything inside was just as he'd left it.

He was able to resume smoothly his old schedule and even appear in the mornings too. He had missed the old girl. He ran his hands over Libertine's wood paneling fondly. Today he had been here at, oh goodness, nine AM. He'd thought Misa might faint when he handed her a coffee. As in celebration of his return he wore one of his favorite suits, a sleek black garment embroidered with dragonflies. They fanned languidly on his shoulders as if basking in the light. Over his heart a living magnolia bloomed with heady scent, a knot of waxy petals that the dragonflies darted about as though their golden thread could really rest upon its petals.

It was not his flashiest ensemble, but Darian also luxuriated in the subtle. He liked the dragonflies; they matched his mood, bright shining things that lit from one brief pleasure to another. And of course, they were lovely advertisement for his charms - he pointed them out to customers, smiled slowly, as if to say you could look like this.

Early afternoon he had a walk-in. The man came straight for him and Misa moved away, fading elegantly into the background so that Darian might engage him alone. "Birds these days," Darian said, amused. "They weren't lying. I am the proprietor, Darian Morgan - " he swept into a bow -  " And I would love to usher you into an excellent suit."   Eyeteeth sparkled on the upswing; he gave Landon a smile of his own.

The man was some sort of wonderful... Not only did he have a pretty face, but the way he was carrying himself and his outfit spoke of someone that would've been right at home on some red carpet for some fancy high society event. Landon was not surprised in the least; any acquaintance of Arianne Desrosiers ought to be just as sparkly and classy as she was, he supposed. With minor exceptions, himself included.

He might've felt bed that he hadn't noticed the other pretty thing in the store, and pretty she was indeed. But something about the man was just very entrancing. It was like his whole being subtly said look at me. Oh and look he did. Landon let his gaze fall from his pretty face to his slim waist where the tailored suit hugged him closely, to his long slender legs, and finally to his feet. Unsurprisingly, they matched his ensemble, but Landon couldn't help arch an eyebrow at the idea of loafers. He wouldn't be caught dead in a pair, they lacked any sort of practicality and safety. But they suited him just fine.

His eyebrows raised in amusement at the man's comment on birds and he let out a soft chuckle. Silver tongue too, eh? Three words out of his mouth and Landon was sure he was in way over his head. His bow was met with another chuckle, leaning his body back and crossing his arms over his chest, shirt pulling taught over his muscles, to frown at him. But an amused smirk tugged at his lips. Landon was wondering whether drama and... pizzazz were something of a requirement for the rich and trendy.

He shook his head a little, chin tucked low and bit into his lower lip. He quirked one eyebrow high and eyed him intently from under his eyelashes. Silver tongue, indeed. He'd have no problems being ushered into an excellent suit by Darian Morgan. As a matter of fact, he would be quite happy if between the undressing and the fitting, some other things might happen. He pushed himself forward, uncrossing one arm to offer it to the proprietor. "Landon Thibodeaux, Private Security Consultant" he said politely, grinning something toothy and sparkly white. "And I am entirely at your mercy, Darian Morgan. Fashion and I have never quite... gotten it on" he said with a drawl, and just a tiny hint of an amused wink.

It could be a profitable appointment in more ways than one. Darian's wide showman's smile gentled to something smaller and more smug when Landon gave him a slow up-and-down look. The other seemed appreciative of both Darian's tailoring talents and his natural ones, and Darian was a man so happy to be appreciated.

They shook hands. "Entirely at my mercy?" Darian asked. "Mon Dieu. I will have to try and restrain myself. Come this way..."

Despite his own extravagant tastes Darian did not often recommend for his customers that which was blindingly flamboyant or overly ornate. His dark suits were his most popular and practical, particularly among Ministry men, and that was where he lead Landon. The racks which held his premade selections were a wealth of fine fabrics and very subtle patterns, pinstriping, bird's eye, checks and the like. As well as black and dark grey there were suits in understated rich blues, dove grey, even green and silver. His more adventurous suits lived in a different part of the shop, over with his personal designs.

"Let me put you in something brighter," Darian coaxed, after giving Landon a moment to browse the usual suspects. He showcased a light suit with thick alternating bands of grey and silver similar enough in tone to downplay what might otherwise be a busy pattern."You would look good in dark burgundy -" he returned the once-over - "Or a more vibrant blue." It went without saying that Landon must have at least one black suit. Those were a staple in any man's wardrobe. And modern cut, hmm, yes, Darian thought so. It'd be a crime to put a man that fit in the kind of suits the tailor chose for stodgy office workers.

Landon grinned brightly, eyebrows climbing high on his forehead as Darian shook his hand and then displayed that particular brand of charm of his that he was sure was putting Arianne's to shame. He didn't quite know about restraint, however,  quite on the contrary he would be very much in favor of letting things get a little wild... and heated. He passed through the racks, eyes falling on this sparkly thing or the other, not quite sure what exactly he was looking at.

At the mention of something brighter, he turned his frowning face to Darian, tilting his head to the side a little and blinking repeatedly. Oh, Merlin... "How-how much brighter were you thinking?" he found himself asking quietly, voice just a little caught in his throat. Seeing the right thing in question Landon's eyebrows drew even closer together, eyeing the fabric skeptically. He wasn't sure he could pull off anything quite so... out there. And burgundy? Wasn't that somewhere in France? But the gaze that followed his words, had him swallowing tightly and nodding slowly once.

"You know--all my life someone has tried to get me into something blue" he said with a chuckle and a soft huh. "My sisters, all five of them-" he raised his eyebrows and shook his head exasperated but fond "-always insisted it would bring out my eyes. How does that even work?" he laughed, crossing his arms and spreading his legs as he eyed the racks pensively. "My job requires functional, but professional attire. Sometimes I'm covering high class clients at very formal events, and I'm required to blend in but still be able to move around without the seams bursting" he said, pursing his lips, then shook his head and smiled charmingly.

"I also need a couple of pieces for personal use. My wardrobe has met a dramatic fiery death" he said, sighing long and smiling cheekily at Darian. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" he shrugged and grinned, obviously no regrets or shame over the incident. "I'll try everything once, so what the hell. Burgundy or blue, I leave the fate of wardrobe in your skillful hands" he declared, smiling softly, and inclining his head in acknowledgement of the man's obvious fine tastes. If his gaze lingered on his hands, graceful and pale, wondering just how... skillful they were, he covered it with a predatory smirk.

"Not too bright," Darian said slowly, eyes sparkling with mirth. The trepidation many men felt at the idea of bright suits never failed to amuse him. As for colors that would suit Landon's eyes, he explained it thus: "Think of it as a type of selective matching. Matching things are very fine."

Five sisters, what an utterly charming thought. Darian smiled to himself as with a flick of his wand he drew from the racks a half-dozen suits. Unfortunately for security coverage Landon probably needed suits that were even less than subtle - ones that were completely inconspicuous and preferably bland. Darian did not like to think of any of his work as being (gasp) bland, but it was with some resignation that he selected two black suits that would not have gone amiss at even the most boring of society affairs. "Here," he sighed. "Professional attire."

The third suit was sleeker and sharp as could be, black as an oil slick and possessing a subtle sheen. The forth was a vibrant dark blue with a near-invisible diamond pattern, the fifth pale grey checked, and the sixth was indeed a burgandy. Suits fluttering in the air about him Darian gestured with a languid wave of his hand the back of the shop, where the dressing rooms were, indicating that Landon might pick one and start trying things on. With another gesture from his wand shirts and ties tripped from the shelves to follow at their heels.

The way he'd attempted to reassure him on the brightness, didn't seem very reassuring at all and Landon gave an awkward little smile. He suddenly got the image of his oldest brother burned at the back of is mind, in his flamboyant sparkly and colorful suits, with his long locks always perfectly bouncy and shiny... Good Lord. He frowned at Darian's explanation on matching and nodded absently; he had no idea what he was saying, but he understood fine.

As the proprietor swished his wand, Landon found himself  staring at a selection of suits with a little frown tugging at his eyebrows. Then only two were offered for view which Landon found perfectly acceptable, letting a soft huh fall from his lips. Lips which immediately turned into a grin, a breathy sort of nasal chuckle escaping him as he couldn't help but be amused at how entirely disapproving the designer seemed to be with them. "Well, I'm really very sorry my job doesn't allow for more tasteful choices" he said, looking insultingly apologetic with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised judgmentally, before he shook his head, laughing mirthfully. 

The other suits looked a little, well a lot more out of his comfort zone ad he eyes them skeptically, swallowing loudly as he tried to keep the fear out of his features. In a flurry of flying clothes, Darian gestured for him to follow and Landon took one last steadying breath, giving himself a mental pat on the back for encouragement and stepped in his tracks. He folded his sunglasses placing them in the pocket of his jeans and walked into a cabin. In a family of 11 one lost of all meaning of the word privacy quite fast, but it wasn't only a Thibodeaux thing, but simply a Landon thing, whom preferred to forego upper body clothing at almost all moments. So he shucked his shirt off without a worry, hanging it on a hook then lowered his gaze to his jeans while he dealt with his belt.

"So where would you see me wearing those suits?" he said, still focused on the task of getting rid of his sometimes uncooperative belt. He meant the ones he couldn't see himself wearing in... well, anywhere. "Especially the lighter one..." he added, almost muttering, lacking any sort of faith in its actual application to his daily life.