Chapter 7
Tamiko promised and delivered. She offered to take Diarmuid out to the shops to get him civilian clothes.
She loved the plan. He had absolutely nothing normal to wear, so he couldn't complain or refute.
Since Diarmuid really did have no clothing other than his Servant outfit to dress himself in, his dark green armor had to be worn in public.
Seeing her qualm about appropriate attire, Diarmuid suggested he be naked on the trip. When Tamiko saw his deadpan delivery, her mouth fell open.
When he swallowed a laugh, then Tamiko shoved him.
They walked to the shopping district, Diarmuid attracting more than one or two stares at his strange outfit. Tamiko heard whispers of "cosplay" and that was normal enough.
The stroll also filled with discussion of his clothing options. Diarmuid kept insisting he didn't mind what Tamiko bought him, but that couldn't be true. Everyone had a preference.
Tamiko figured, all right, Diarmuid could try on a few shirts and slacks and he'd pick something he liked more than the others.
She chose the biggest plaza in town, catering to unisex clothes. It was the most popular place for a variety of clothes and she loved how that saved her feet from constant shuffles from store to store.
Standing with Diarmuid in front of the mirror in the sitting area of a dressing room, Tamiko began to rethink her brilliant plan after a good chunk of the day passed.
First off, the clothes jumped on Diarmuid. Everything he put on, from grungy cargo pants to slimming dress pants all the way to tight shirts and baggy hoodies, Diarmuid always found something he liked in each piece and wanted to get them.
Tamiko couldn't fault him for liking all the clothes. The styles were new to him and seemed very elaborate and colorful compared to the drab shades and shapeless fabric back in his day.
Endless his enthusiasm was, but endless Tamiko's cash flow was not. But she wanted to treat him. Shopping with a Servant was the last thing Tamiko ever thought she'd do if she ever summoned one. She may as well get her kicks doing such an ordinary thing for such an extraordinary being. Besides, there were chairs in the dressing room to wait on. Comfort she had.
For a moment. Then came the saleswomen. What began as one helpful sales pitch turned into an advertising campaign as a flock of saleswomen barraged Diarmuid with suggestions and grandiose plans of modeling the newest lines of clothes.
Any sentient life form with an inkling of interest in the opposite sex would not resist the attention. Diarmuid, despite his respectful distance from outright flirtation as the women took part, started to show a gleam in his eye. His flattered gaze darted around and the ladies wore him down, flattering and cooing.
When Tamiko saw that reaction, she felt a gnawing tide of something fierce, something that silently made her wish for a roaring fire to set the room ablaze. Tamiko had to look away.
Eventually, with the sea of ladies stuffed into the crowded sitting room -and it was a large one, enough to accommodate multiple people- and the rambunctious chatter coming from all them, Tamiko lost sight of Diarmuid. Actually broke visual contact because of too numerous bodies standing between her and him.
Tamiko didn't know how it happened so fast, but she found herself waiting outside the entrance of the dressing room instead of remaining inside. The high octave of squeals, praise and business propositions gave the now verboten area a convention feel.
Like conventions, it was easy to get caught up in excitement and not notice hours pass at all. Tamiko muttered aloud to herself about Diarmuid absolutely requiring to find some clothes before he got the hell out of there before she stalked off to another shop. Diarmuid would find her later.
Literal hours did pass by with no sign of him, much to her amazement. Following the clothing theme, Tamiko picked out a cute t-shirt for herself before indulging in a caramel sundae at the food court.
At first. With Diarmuid's ability to sense her presence, she could go anywhere and he'd find her. So she went outside to soak in some dwindling rays on an unoccupied bench meant to do just that.
A spoonful of gooey sauce was on her tongue when Diarmuid made his appearance. Weighed down with shopping bags, he sheepishly smiled at her.
Tamiko pretended not to see him, not even when he sat down beside her. She inadvertently checked behind him for a straggling saleslady, positive there would be one, to which Diarmuid raised confused eyebrows.
He apologized for not coming sooner. Tamiko tried to extinguish her annoyance; he did follow her wish and got himself clothes. That was ultimately the whole reason for being here.
Tamiko half-heartedly swirled her melting cup of ice cream with her spoon, watching the liquidy mass spin. The stray thought of whether this Heroic Spirit liked sprinkles on ice cream lifted her mood. Maybe those sugary sprinkles were too sweet and peanut chunks were more to his liking. A short laugh burst out and she shook her head at Diarmuid's curious stare.
Diarmuid revealed he had something for her, lifting his closed hands in front of her. She peered at the entwined slender fingers, wondering what he bought. She waited for him to reveal his surprise.
She didn't see what Diarmuid had because he leaned over to kiss her. Tamiko froze, just like the still molecules in her icy treat. Cold was not how she felt when his lips brushed hers.
