thread set

It was a little after midday on a balmy Monday, and Darian was flitting idly about the shop. In his customary bright blazer, with his mop of usual wild curls, he moved from display to display - straightening a shirt on its hanger, lining up the shoes on their shelves in a neat little row - simply killing time.

He had a client coming in a few minutes to pick up a suit, a fair regular whose timing was precise and whose tastes were impeccable. Well, of course they were, he shopped here after all and he wasn't one of those clients Darian would let leave in a shoddy suit. For one thing, he'd probably try his very hardest to kill Darian with those razor eyes for anything less than the most quality cloth and cut. (Fortunately for Darian, he was quite immune to sneers and snark and the most icy of glares, and it would take more than a look to quell him.) For another, Shang was fit enough that clothing him was practically a pleasure next to the pot-bellied businessmen Darian also had to deal with in his day to day running of a menswear shop.

Shang was quite boring, though, for a fit bloke. His suits were sharp but he never wanted them multicolored or glittery at all. Just black - black and white. Elegant, classic, and about as exciting for Darian to tailor as a sack for all that he could do traditional suits in his sleep. But, oh well, Shang paid - and that was the important part.

Expecting him at any moment, Darian'd sent Misa out for lunch. One would expect some fellow feeling from one Easterner-origin to another but for some reason she said the man gave her the heebie-jeebies. Well, this wouldn't take long, Shang'd probably be gone by the time she got back.

Once again, like clockwork it seemed, Ventus was running late. Not that it really mattered as he had quite literally nothing planned for the day, other than picking up his new attire. But still, he had hoped to be at Mr. Morgan's shop much earlier. He stepped quickly through the portal behind the Leaky Cauldron and headed up the street. To be frank, Ventus hated coming to Diagon Alley. It was always so noisy, so busy. At any moment anyone of these strangers could accidentally touch him, and the thought of that repulsed him.

He eyed Gringotts n the distance, and debated whether or not he should check on his funds. Perhaps later, he decided, and stepped inside the reception area of his destination. Hastily, Ventus made his way through the curtain that seperated the reception room from the main show floor. As usual, he gave a quick glance around. To check for anything interesting. To check for anything that may be a threat to him.

The one thing Ventus did not see was Mr. Morgan. He gave out a heavy sigh. "Mr. Morgan," Ventus said rather monotonously. "Are you in?"

Ah, there it was. The dulcet tones of one Mr. Ventus Shang, as cheerful and uplifting as ever. Darian appeared like an apparition from between the well-placed racks, having straightened from plucking up some renegade thread that had integrated itself lovingly into his carpet.

"Mr. Shang - " He gave a half-bow, one arm swept out to his side, then looked up. His mouth curled into a knowing smile. "Good afternoon. You kept me waiting - tsk, tsk."

Of course, Darian's next appointment wasn't for another two hours, but Ventus didn't know that. Not that Darian thought he'd see anything like regret cross that stone-smooth face. If he glimpsed any emotion on Ventus' face, he might hazard a guess to say... annoyance. Darian's own manner was sly and just slightly teasing - not enough to cross the line past insolence (not with customers), but was hardly the desperately polite or supercilious approach of some shopkeeps. It was not strictly businesslike either. Some clients that offended.

But, it was his shop. They came through the velvet-draped reception room, they were damn well warned.

"My apologies," Ventus replied in a slightly bored voice. "Recently it seems that I've been late to every meeting I've arranged," he gave a slight shrug. "I'm afraid I've been quite enthralled with my wife lately." A rare smile (that looked more like a malicious grin) cracked over Ventus's face. It was true, really. The news that he would soon be a father had occupied most of his thoughts lately, and he'd spent more time with her than he had on his work.Not that it mattered, as he had reached a new level lately, and was now at a stand still.

"But, now that I am here," Ventus continued formally. "Let us get down to business shall we? I always love the attire you create for me. Some day I may even get one in a color." He smiled at the thought of it, but Jordan had always pushed that he should wear something more eye catching sometimes. Maybe he'd order a nice, emerald green suit before he left.

Ventus stepped closer to Mr. Morgan. "I assume it looks as dashing as ever?" Again he gave a slight smile. The normal hate and disgust of mankind that usually gripped him seemed to be dull lately. "So please," Ventus added lightly. "Let us end this suspense and see the masterpiece you've created for me."

Darian could not quite decide whether to be knowingly salacious at Ventus' intriguing choice of the word 'enthralled,' or despairingly disapproving of the word 'wife.' He, of course, could understand the thrall a woman could cast but he could not empathize with the concept of marital bliss. Perfectly handsome blokes like Shang, tied down for what was to be eternity if they followed their vows? Shameful.  Now that vows meant much of anything these days... Darian's lips parted in a predator's smile briefly at the thought. And wasn't he grateful.

But in a blink his smile turned sweeter - more professional, less sly. The change was so fast it was if the former expression had never existed at all.

"Cute," he said, as innocently as if it was every man's ambition in life to be called so (although Darian knew from laughing experience that it annoyed or embarrassed most of them). And, "Ohhh? Really? Mr. Shang, my heart skips a beat at the very suggestion." He laid a hand over said heart, nimble fingers spread wide and pale against the purple of his jacket. "You assume correctly."

He snapped his fingers, and a cloth-draped garment floated out of the back room and bobbed its way towards them. Another snap, and the cloth whisked itself off with a flourish to reveal Ventus' three-piece suit. A well-fitted waistcoat, tapered trousers, sharp coat - each piece possessing a silky handle and the faintest lustre to signify its high-end construction. As the suit turned for inspection (Darian's garments were very well trained to his tailoring charms), a black-on-black pinstripe was revealed, a subtle shift in the texture visible wherever the fabric caught the light.

Darian folded the dust cloth over his arm, pretending he didn't care to check the suit for last-minute invisible flaws or watch like a hawk to ensure that Shang appreciated the garment as he ought. It was flawless, as was every suit he made, and perfectionism in front of clients tended to look misguidedly like a lack of confidence. "Here it is. Black, nicely draped, very classy, very traditional - but you know, I do live in hope." He winked. Maybe next time, he would make the pinstripe red. Wouldn't that look fine?

Choosing to ignore the eccentric behavior of Mr. Morgan , Ventus watched calmly as he was presented with his order. Once again, he was impressed by the elegance of the attire. "Magnificent," Ventus said in a quite voice, eyes analyzing every inch of the fabric.

He had to admit, as annoying as Ventus found Mr. Morgan to be, the man was truly and artist at his craft. No other tailor could possibly find a way to have black offset black in the way he had with these pinstripes. It was a masterpiece that Ventus relished to be able to wear. "You never cease to amaze me," Ventus said in a complimentary tone.

Finally done admiring the art of a suit created specifically for him, Ventus turned back to face Mr. Morgan. There was one last thing he needed to do. "Before we complete our business here today," he said in an official tone. "I have another piece of attire I would like to inquire about." Ventus gave a slight nod to the rather minuscule selection of women's attire. "I was curious, if given the proper measurements, you could create a dress. A gift for my wife you see."

"I'm certain a tailor such as yourself would have no problems, correct?"

Compliments, compliments. Darian only smiled, a closed-lipped, snakecharmer expression.

"I was curious, if given the proper measurements, you could create a dress. A gift for my wife you see. I'm certain a tailor such as yourself would have no problems, correct?"

"Correct," he said. For all his preference to tailor in person, it was a trait considered old-fashioned in today's fast-paced world. Darian was perfectly capable of other methods. All he had to do was drag his female mannequin out of the back, and shrink or increase her in size until she matched the measurements. "I have a book of designs you may be interested in. They are predesigned patterns, you understand, but intended to be modified to your tastes. Tell me what you want - " A snap of his fingers, and a notepad came floating out of the back room in the same manner that the suit had. He withdrew a pen from his blazer pocket, a muggle thing he'd picked up off of Misa and enchanted never to run out of ink, then gestured for Ventus to take a seat in the open area at the back of the shop. "And I'll see what I can do."