"I'm telling you, Laura, it's not going to fit."
"I don't think it's that big..."
"It's big enough." Remington Steele's voice was tinged with exasperation.
"Well the only way you're going to find out, is if you put it in. If it doesn't fit, then we'll have to try something else."
"What would you have us try, Laura? I don't think you'll be able to shrink it." A wry smile quirked upwards on his face as he stared at the garment in question. It had been Laura's idea to switch to a cheaper tailor and as a result his suits had never quite fit properly. He sympathised with her desire to save the agency money, but there were just some areas he was not willing to compromise on. Laura had of course ignored his insistence that the jacket was too large and was insisting he put his arms into the sleeves in an effort to prove it.
"Do you always have to be this difficult, Mr. Steele?" She held up the jacket once more, hoping he would just cease protesting and co-operate for once. "The function starts in half an hour. We're going to be late."
"I don't see why I have to go in the first place," he grumbled as he slipped his arm into the sleeve she held towards him. "You, perhaps, but Michaels never liked me. I don't think he would particularly want me there in the first place."
"You have to go because I need an escort," she said patiently. "And this would be a wonderful press opportunity for the agency. I need the head of that agency there, in the flesh and wearing a nice tuxedo."
"Well you have one of the two anyway," Steele said, staring dubiously into the mirror as the tuxedo jacket hung off him in a decidedly unflattering fashion. Laura sighed as she took in the fit of the jacket and inwardly cursed the fact that Steele had been right.
"You're right, it is too big," she said with a sigh. "Do you still have the jacket in the limo that you wore to the art gallery opening?"
"Laura, I was photographed wearing that not only a week ago!" She rolled her eyes at his scandalized tone of voice and took his reaction as a 'yes'.
"Regardless, Mr. Steele, unless you want to turn up to this award ceremony wearing a jacket that looks like it could fit two of you, I suggest you swallow your pride and wear it again."
"I still can't believe that he made detective so quickly...and now this award..." Steele trailed off and shook his head, remembering the jealous young man he had known when he first joined the agency. It was difficult to reconcile that same man as a decorated detective with the LAPD.
"Murphy was a first rate private investigator, and an even better cop," Laura replied as she crossed the room and picked up the phone to call the limo. "It doesn't surprise me that he's earned an award for his work in the service so quickly. He's smart...dedicated..."
"Stubborn as hell," Steele added, but with no malice in his voice.
Laura laughed and dialled the number, crossing her fingers and hoping that the jacket would still be in the trunk of Fred's limo.
"I do appreciate you coming with me, you know," she told him after she hung up the phone. He removed the jacket and headed for the door with Laura quickly on his heels.
"And you're absolutely sure he won't be angry that I'm there?" He knew his tone sounded dubious, but it was hard to picture Murphy Michaels in a magnanimous and forgiving fashion.
"He's been married quite a few years now, Mr. Steele," Laura said softly. "I doubt he still harbours any of those feelings and if he does...well, there's nothing between you and I anymore is there?"
"No," Steele replied softly, heart as always in his throat at this reminder. "There isn't."