Lips like a whistle, Laney Irving blew smoke up toward the roof of the established store front, her back to the setting sun, arms mostly bare, save the thin, oversized t-shirt. If the weather bothered her, she was good at not showing it. She would be even better at it, though, somewhat properly dressed— for those times when she couldn’t curl into her hot-blooded balcony buddy.

Properly dressed being a loose phrase, open to interpretation. Now that she was graduated, Laney didn’t wear things she didn’t like. Her work uniform was the only mandate, and it was the sort of garb that empowered. Otherwise, it was all boyish, loose tops, breath-takingly tight bottoms, and bras without function when she could be bothered. Slinky dresses and pirate’s footwear. Coal eyes, nudeish rose lips.

Coralie Malkin, to look at her, was hardly what one envisioned when one thought of Laney Irving and all of her subtle little obscenities. But Laney had commissioned the face of innocence for a jacket of severe cut and supple, fluid warmth that looked anything but warm. A Malkin interpretation of something Frank owned, and which Laney often stole (and would still steal, despite a properly fitting version to call her own). The only piece that might look put together, roughly, in an otherwise expertly hungover sort of ensemble.

The cigarette became a casualty underfoot, cooling with a telltale last wisp of gray, as the young witch abandoned it in favor of the dress shop’s warmer climate.

And Coralie Malkin was warm. The girl looked like she was made of sugar. Laney’s teeth bore in an appropriately sweet smile— sweet and something else. “What’s the rule on shirts and shoes in here?”

Cora had been slaving over this jacket.  After she took the commission without asking permission she had to do it and her grandma couldn’t stop her.  And it didn’t hurt that she got to shop for the leather herself! 

It was a chance to work with a fabric she didn’t normally get to work with – and now, well… it cost a mint.  Plus, though it was definitely her design style, it was different than a cloak.  It had to hang a particular way, room had to be made, but not too much room… pages of her sketchbook had been doodled on, ripped out and tossed into the trash in the design process.  It had to be right…

The further she got into the project, however, the more… inspiring it was.  She got to distress the leather, soften it and mold it just so.  It had to have casualness about it, since that was what Laney Irving was all about – Cora had looked at all the magazines to get more of an idea than the consultation gave her – even though it had been fairly clear.  There were even a few tabloid pictures of her in the inspiration jacket… which helped greatly, particularly in getting the shaping right on her Moldulous Body form. 

When it was done, she’d made sure she owled Irving straight away to let her know she could get it.  She rolled the form out to the front by the register (the store had pretty much cleared out for the time being) while she waited.  After all, she didn’t want to bother Irving with annoying fans or anything.  It seemed like something important. 

Come to think of it, most of her business things happened on the later end of the spectrum… Cora knew she wasn’t a morning person for a reason!  Drumming her nails on the table, her ears picked up the sound and her eyes lifted almost immediately after.  She grinned, her eyes narrowing and pushed herself up, “We do our best work sans both here,” Cora wrinkled her nose and giggled before rushing over to embrace Laney.

Laney would just have to deal with it as she added two air kisses (a habit born of her ginger boyfriend).  “I am positively certain you’ll die for this jacket.” 

A dimple appeared as amusement danced to center stage on Laney’s lips. “A stripper in sheep’s clothing.” A comment that sounded like a salute.

Laney could appreciate the things that lurked under a girlish facade. Anyone who thought Frank was the least innocent of their coupling at first glance— based simply on age— soon learned otherwise. Though, despite her youth, she often presented a sharper, smokier image than her… wolfier boyfriend. Whose facial hair and most coveted jacket couldn’t negate the boyish grin or clumsiness.

The exuberant tailor's hug was met with a lazy arm, and the kisses matched by a flick of her hair— and a quiet, amused huff of air as the blonde pulled back.

“I hope I don’t. I’d rather look ready to kill…” Even so, she was still smiling, her tone friendly in a Laney way.

The seeker’s gaze whisked beyond their little bubble of greeting, scoping the place. And landed on gold.

Or the perfect dark leather. If its texture and cut on the form were envious, Laney knew that it would look even better on her person. There was no mistaking that this was her jacket.

When her lips parted this time, it was with softness and danger both. She slinked forward, reaching out to feel its material— a healthy touch, not shy. Fingers gathered at the shoulder, then slid down the arm. When she reached end of it, trapping the sleek but supple, carefully cut wrist between two fingers, she grinned.

Laney reached up to quickly steal it off the dress form. As she pulled it on, Laney turned to find a mirror in the same fluid stretch, and began checking herself out shamelessly. “This might be the only thing he has a hard time convincing me to take off.” She caught Coralie’s eye in the mirror, and there was thanks in Laney’s tone and in her smile.

Cora laughed brightly, paying no mind to Laney’s statement about sheep’s clothing – or lack thereof.  She knew she had all sorts of interesting little secrets about both of them.  Laney was a common customer and they were pretty close in age with a similar aesthetic (at least for Cora’s designs and Laney’s wearable clothing), so they were what Cora might consider friends – or friendly associates, which she figured was confirmed by Laney’s smirks and comments. 

The woman might have had a harder edge than Cora did on the outside, but she wasn’t terribly hard to read.  “That usually goes without saying, Darling!” Cora flounced back behind the jacket and turned it a little for Laney to really get a good look at. 

When her eyes settled on it, Cora could see that she was happy and that instantly filled her with pride.  She found a lot of joy in her work, especially when someone instantly wanted to put her work on.  The jacket flung off the dress form and instantly draped over Laney’s sinewy frame.  Cora had to admit, she did a pretty phenomenal job on the jacket.  It was what Laney had described to her, it was really… close to perfect.

Humble pie was not being served tonight, it seemed, and Cora stood a little taller in her pastel wedges.  “I mean, not it’s intended use… but I wouldn’t blame you.” True statement, all around.  Cora approached and appraised.  “It suits you perfectly.”  As boyish as Laney could sway, depending on her outfitting, the jacket was hard edged, but the leather so soft…

Personal boundaries were not concern to either of them, so Cora stepped up and began to smooth out the bumps and tug here and there, just to make sure it was fitted completely properly.  “You know what would make this even better?” Cora asked with a mischievous look in her eyes. 

Wicked grin still sitting lopsided and pretty, Laney flicked hair from her eyes. She was glad the designer thought her ulterior motives suitable. Laney would have pursued them either way.

Eyes moved back to the mirror, watching the designer alter what was already ready. Laney was reminded of the energy before a game, the minute adjustments of their gear, the restrained chaos of her coaches. She was buzzing, suddenly. And whatever Coralie’s blonde hair and sundress aesthetic suggested, the look in her eyes promised something a little harder.

Laney could help, with the contents of a tiny purse she’d brought along. “A drink?” She breathed a laugh through her nose. If Cora wanted to shut down shop and join her in Diagon for shots, Laney was ready to put the jacket to the test.

But perhaps it was a different kind of high the woman had in mind. Another purchase to match this one. Even if Laney wasn’t the girly girl, exactly, coming into sudden possession of certain sorts of womanly witchcraft (clothes, for example) was its own kind of victory. Another couple of jackets like this would fit well in her wardrobe. Jeans, heavy boots... “Or if you’ve got a see-through t-shirt back there…” Her eyes had already scanned the racks, the immaculate cloaks and day-safe wizardwear. Things that could hide surprises for her wolf, but nothing so dangerous as to offend old ladies. Malkin's wasn't the t-shirt sort of place.

“I’m always up for a drink,” Cora returned with a bright smile.  Laney was good company and despite their completely polar aesthetics, a compliment to her personality.  But, she had to admit that wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. 

Honestly, it was Cora’s newest side projects that she htought would suit Irving much better.  She also had some jewelry that she thought she might like.  The clinical silver would match the supple leather and really accent the edge of the jacket and the woman wearing it.  Certainly not see-through t-shirts at this store.  It wasn’t exactly her great-grandmother’s aesthetic.

Those things were the side business.  Cora had a rather healthy side business now, especially since the photoshoot and her cloaks.  She had orders on orders, which had softened the elderly Madame Malkin a little, but her designs were not front room material.  Walking behind Laney, Cora put her tiny, jewelry encrusted hands on the woman’s shoulders. 

“I had a little different idea,” she grinned into the mirror and steered her toward the back.  “I know you’re going to love it,” she informed her and moved from behind her to practically frolic in front of her, hands turned up at her side as she jogged toward the back.  “I had a bit of leather left over from the jacket so…” the corners of her eyes crinkled and she disappeared behind the curtain that separated the front of the shop from the back before grabbing her bag. 

It was never ending; an abundance of space and Cora swung it up to the tabletop, untying the strings.   “Wanna chance reaching into my goodie bag?”

“Maybe after this. I bet it holds well against alcohol.” It was a jacket made for drinking, flying, prowling the night (and proudly discarding onto backs of chairs or cold floorboards in the heat of the moment). “You, though…” Laney trailed off, grinning again. But she knew the innocent tailor well enough to know that her rebellious streak probably went beyond sewing. And Frank wouldn’t be so frowny if Laney ended up with a mugshot and St. Mungo’s discharge papers if she had a responsible (similarly sloshed) friend along with her this time.

The Seeker’s eyes flickered to her shoulders in the mirror, as if they might guess the surprise by sizing up the woman’s digits. (Hands were important, the magpie knew, and they could tell a lot about a person.)

She was drawn out of the glass’ frame, and allowed her boots to trail with heavy silence across the shop floor, to the border of the area she knew most customers didn’t venture. Which made it all the more appealing to Laney: something that hadn’t been made for the nine to five crowds. “It sounds like I’m going to be leaving my clothes on a pile on your floor,” she called out, grabbing her elbow casually and glancing around the shop again. Laney appreciated it a little more empty, as if the dark nooks were suddenly abundant.

She was about to break protocol (a favorite pastime), and poke her head through the curtain— the word leather was never dull— when Coralie appeared again. Laney slid back, light and nimble, to avoid the bubbly witch. Her boots anchored to the spot, but she didn’t need to be told twice. Goodies.

There was no hesitation or fear in the fingers that plunged in, only curiosity, desire. The leather under her finger tips was the winning kind… “My boyfriend just won the lottery,” she said gleefully, pulling out the first piece. It was strappy, black, with the same supple leather, but plenty lithesome, like the witch holding it. It was Laney. Coralie Malkin had just earned herself a lifetime customer.  “I’ll make sure to send you his wallet.”

 Cora had a tendency to preen.  Before she had proven herself, earned a spot in the pages of a coveted magazine, she was humble and scared.  But now, well, it was okay to be a little bit of a peacock.  “At least I’d mend and fold them afterward,” Cora pointed out with a bright, but somehow sinister giggle.  She did not have the same care about an audience that Laney might have.  She knew her grandmother was gone for the day and she was the only one Cora had to worry about. 

Producing the bag, Cora knew Laney wouldn’t be able to resist the beckon.  She joined her behind the curtain and was quick to dig right into the large satchel. 

The Cheshire grin widened so far that her eyes squinted. 

She practically squealed when Laney voiced her delight – and of course, the future delight of her boyfriend.  Cora lived to please others, craft things they would like and would make them feel good.  Her newest venture was the craft of making women feel better, more confident. 

Cora had heaps of it and she’d always designed for herself… so she was sharing her talent with the world! 

“That,” she motioned to the garment, “is on me this time,” her eyes gleamed.  “Or just consider it the perfect – only - accessory.” 

Straightening her shoulders, Cora dropped her hands in front of her and cleared her throat.  “You may, however, forward his vault number for all future purchases,” a little more business, though cheeky smile remained.  “I’m currently taking commissions.”