A/N: This fic was promised as a follow-on from Owlkin's "All Girls Will Be Princesses", and it may make slightly more sense if you read that first. From a prompt by Louisiana.
Not meant to be serious in any way, as you will see. Enjoy!
Not what he seems
Madame Thespier straightened behind the counter as the bell over the shop door rang, heralding the entrance of a large, brutish looking man who shuffled inside, and seemed to be glaring at everything around him. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Cassie's back disappearing around the corner. She didn't blame her assistant for making herself scarce; some customers were trouble. Not that this one was looking for trouble, she mused, noting the strange anxiety in his gaze as he looked around the shop. But Madame Thespier was nothing if not experienced with calming discomforted men, and so she stepped boldly towards the man (who was gazing in consternation at a display of ladies' hosiery) and cleared her throat politely.
The man jumped in fright and turned around with surprising agility, clearly embarrassed. However, he recovered quickly, and Madame Thespier's neat eyebrows shot up as he executed a graceful bow. She inclined her head in acknowledgement.
"Excuse me Madame, would you happen to be the patron of this fine establishment?" His voice was rough but polite.
She smiled sincerely and replied that indeed she was.
He took this in. "Erm, could I… would it be too much trouble… that is…"
"You need an outfit made," she supplied not unkindly.
He looked grateful. "Yes, yes exactly. The Captain said –Laren I mean – she said you were the best in Sacor City, and she said she would not allow me to turn up to another ball in my moth-bitten old coat, as she calls it, and well… here I am," he finished, seeming satisfied that he had managed thus far.
Ah, so Laren Mapstone had sent him. She suppressed a smile at this. It seemed this gentleman had no lady in his life to look after him, by the look of his unkempt hair and bristly chin, so it was just as well Laren seemed to have taken up his cause. And such a woman as Laren Mapstone could make grown men quake in their boots, or so it seemed.
Laren was a not-infrequent visitor to the establishment, and by now a good friend. Apart from her recently confessed secret love of elegant dresses, Laren often visited Master Gruntler's nearby, and would visit on her return journey to share a dragon dropping or two and a mug of hot kauv. There were a few interesting stories Laren had to tell about life at the castle, though naturally Madame Thespier understood that she was not at liberty to relate all that went on; still some remarkably stubborn men featured in a few of the more amusing stories, and she wondered if this gentleman was one of them. She thought though, that stubborn men were about as difficult as a kitten if you knew how to handle them, and she felt she and Laren had that ability in common.
She felt the corners of her mouth uncharacteristically curving upwards and chased away this thought, replacing it with a frown which seemed to make the fellow in front of her freshly nervous. He fidgeted with the hem of his overcoat.
"And just when is this ball for which your friend Laren insists you need a new outfit?"
"Erm… Sunday week, ma'am".
Her manner turned business-like. "Well, that is very close, but I'm sure we can manage just fine. Now if you will just step over this way…"
Madame Thespier struggled to keep her stern expression as she led the man to the long mirror, and turned him this way and that, taking various measurements. Cassie appeared by her side to note them down on a form.
"And what might your name be, Sir?" enquired Cassie, in between scribbling furiously to keep up with the quiet stream of information from Madame Thespier.
The man attempted to look down at his hands at this question, earning a gentle rebuke from the lady who was currently trying to measure him from ear to waist.
"Name's Drent."
It came out abruptly, too abruptly he seemed to think, so he cleared his throat and continued.
"Drent, erm that is, Reginald Drent. But I go by Drent, generally."
There was something just so childlike and earnest beneath his gruff exterior, and a surprisingly good dose of gentility.
By the time the designer and her assistant between them managed to coax Drent out of his over-large coat and began tacking the lining to the right fitting, Madame Thespier began to believe this man might be a little handsome as well. With this realisation came a fluttering feeling in her chest she had not felt for many years.
"This cut suits you Sir," she remarked quietly as she placed the final pin in the collar. He gave a small grin as they both looked at his reflection in the gilded mirror – a silk and brocade doublet and surcoat, smart but as yet unfinished, and this man himself, gruff yet beginning to look debonair in his new apparel.
He looked rather in shock.
Outside the shop, a pair of passing merchants – who indeed had just finished some business in the warehouse behind the store – passed the window and stopped in the adjacent alley. "Sevano," said the younger, clasping his shoulder, was that not Drent, who Kari pointed out to us at the castle? Drent who…" he trailed off, seemingly unable to speak. Sevano could only nod mutely, before the both of them broke into hearty laughter.
Please review! It was short but hopefully you enjoyed it.
Louisiana suggested a series of installments where different characters visit this shop, and then it ends with the ball! As all good stories should :)
Let us know if you would like to see a certain character! I can't promise how long this will go on but I shall do my best before my inspiration runs out again :)