Chapter 3: Inside the haberdashery

After a brief sigh of relief, I looked up and saw my partners acting out their comedy skit.

Stiff and high-strung, Isaac stood with his hands straight down his sides and face forward; Miria stood next to him in an identical position. The man's exaggerated whispering could be heard throughout the shop despite his efforts to keep things "on the down low". His only saving grace was the fact that aside from the owner and us, the haberdashery was empty.

"—No matter what, don't do anything eye-catching."

"I know. I just have to be really, really mousy and quiet, right?"

"That's the ticket. As long as you know."

Lord.

I rolled my eyes with fondness at the duo. They were devastatingly charming even when they didn't mean to be.

Right.

With a pep in my step, I made my way to the old man manning the counter. I was surprised he wasn't as scary as the anime made him out to be; rather, he seemed like an old gentleman waiting for retirement to finally come and bless him. The old man wasn't even bothered by the comedic display in the middle of his shop, merely turning to the next page of his paper like reading the gossip column was more interesting than the two weird rich-looking people in front of him.

Mr. Agosti was never one to pry into the affairs of others unless it involved him. He was considerate like that, despite his stoic mannerism.

"Excuse me?"

The owner looked up from his paper and met my eyes. There was a nearly unnoticeable pause before he grunted, his tone not unkind, merely giving me the go-ahead to ask my question.

Taking in his body language, I was charmed by his actions. "I was wondering if you had any gloves in a size medium? Something with a plain design and preferably leather or cotton, if you could?" For emphasis, I raised my gloved hand up for him to see, splaying my fingers out; the leather was cracked and worn thin through wear and age, clearly needing to be replaced.

Squinting, he put down his paper and leaned forward to observe. More than one time, his eyes flickered back to my face, not that that bothered me whatsoever; I only smiled. With a nod, he got up. "I'll see what we've got." And without so much as a look back, he walked through a nearby door.

"Thank you!"

In the corner of my eye, Isaac put on a police helmet and observed himself in the mirror, while Miria—

"Lala! Look what we found!"

My vision was abruptly disrupted when something large and soft fell on top of my head—or rather was placed on top of my head with a giggle. "A lah, what's this, Big Sis? It feels so soft." I commented with a smile.

Curious, I took the hat off and observed the object. It looked like one of those Church hats worn by those old ladies in Anglican churches: Big, bright, and fancy. The felt was extremely soft and was an eye-searing maroon color that could put Rudolf's nose to shame. On the silk band were a couple of plumes of what seemed to be feathers the color of green jade with a single peacock feather tastefully placed in the center of said plumes.

Playing along, I took off my straw hat and settled the other one on my head, popping a hip and placing a hand behind my head in a modelesque way. "How do I look, Big Sis? Aren't I absolutely stunning?"

"So stunning, you took my breath away!" Miria nodded with a bright smile.

Pleased, I placed a hand on my chest and dipped my head in a teasing manner, even giving a little curtsey. "Why thank you, Madame Miria. Such words bring a tear to this humble model's eye."

There was a pause as we looked at each other, our faces blank. A second passed before Miria's lip started to twitch. A simple wiggle with my brows quickly sent her into tears as she couldn't hold back her laughter anymore; the sound of her amusement filled the quiet shop, brightening the atmosphere.

The sound of footsteps made its way towards us, and the door the owner entered opened, revealing the old man with a box in his hands. He nudged the door shut behind him with the heel of his foot and placed the box down on the counter.

"It's been a long time since a female customer came here looking for gloves." He commented as he pulled out the pairs and set them down on the counter.

I nodded, nonplussed. The store did cater specifically to men after all.

"I'll sell 'em for half price since they've been sitting back there for so long."

Hmm?

"Oh, no!" Raising my brows in surprise, I shook my head fervently at his generous offer. "I could never ask you to do that! These are such fine gloves too!

I wasn't lying about their quality. Despite the small layer of dust coating the box, the gloves themselves were untouched by any blemishes or stains. Out of the four pairs of gloves laid out before me, two were made of black leather, while the other two were of cotton: one white while the other was dyed black. All of them were in pristine condition with not a single fray on them.

"S'fine," The old man grumbled stubbornly. "These were an old order anyways. The buyer never picked them up, so might as well use them."

"Amaleh, but—" I began, eyeing the pristine gloves with a discerning eye. By now, Miria meandered her way back to Isaac, trading hats with him to try on.

A click of the tongue cut me off. "You buying them or what, kid?" He grouched, eyes rolling with annoyance. "I was itchin to toss 'em out anyways; they were takin' up space."

Oh.

I smiled at his hidden generosity and picked up the leather gloves.

"Well, if you insist," I murmured. My fingers tested the stretch of the gloves, careful not to bend them out of shape. Each one was in perfect condition, I couldn't help but ask.

"Say, Mister...?"

He grunted. "Agosti."

"Mr. Agosti," I'll keep that in mind, "How long have these gloves been waiting in storage? They look as good as new."

If he noticed I didn't bother to try the gloves, he never said anything and merely turned to the next page in his paper. "'Bout nine years or so."

Holding my chin, I squinted my eyes at the gloves. It was a tough decision to make since they matched my taste to a T. The leather gloves were durable and looked quite nice for when I was working, while the cotton gloves matched any occasion. "Any clue as to why the previous buyer never picked them up?"

shook his head. "No."

I sighed. "That's a shame. These gloves are quite the quality items." My finger stroked the handle of my suitcase, drawing up a mental Venn diagram of the pros and cons of each glove. For the next three minutes, I stood there staring unblinkingly at the gloves as I made calculations while flipped through his paper unbothered. Meanwhile, Isaac and Miria were being themselves as they tried to go unnoticed in the quiet shop, shouting exclamations as they cycled through hats.

In the background, Isaac and Miria continued their conversation, any veil of subtlety now gone from their characters.

"Isn't this too peculiar?"

"It might not be good for robbing people in!" Miria agreed with a thoughtful nod.

These two. I chuckled, shaking my head with fondness. "Please don't mind my company. They have a rather...wild sense of adventure."

Mr. Agosti just glanced at them with indifference before looking back at me. "Just so long as they don't touch my shop, I don't care what they do."

Grinning, I tipped my hat. "Will do, Mr. Agosti."

With a hmph, he returned his attention back to the paper.

My tracing finger stopped and tapped the handle three times when I finally made up my mind. Mr. Agosti paused and looked up, a look in his eye that meant no harm despite the heavy weight behind it.

"Well?" He grumbled.

Unbothered, I picked up a pair of black leather gloves. "I'll take these."

With a grunt, the old man rattled off the cost without looking at the price.

I raised my brow in disbelief but kept my mouth shut. It was far below the initial cost halved, but I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. A win is a win, after all.

"Lala, we're finished!" Miria called over with a wave.

Just as I began to take out my wallet, Miria came bounding over with her arms loaded with ridiculous hats and masks, Isaac following not too long after with the ridiculous samurai helmet in the pile stacked in his arms.

"Don't worry about the money, Lala. I've got you covered." Isaac winked.

Despite my head being turned toward the approaching duo, I picked up on Mr. Agosti's subtle movements behind my back whilst I was distracted. It wasn't anything suspicious, so I didn't bother looking back to check. "How very kind of you, cousin. You have my thanks." I played along.

When I turned around, the old man was already done packing my order in a flat rectangular box, the item sitting far too innocently to be free of suspicion.

Catching my eye, Mr. Agosti raised a brow before setting down his paper to take in the two's paraphernalia.

The two set their items down with a small clatter; the clutter was made up of mismatched hats and masks that didn't make sense on a normal occasion. For us, however, they were perfect for throwing others off our case.

"Alright," Isaac grinned, taking out a random briefcase full of money. Opening the case with a click, he took a tied stack of bills and tossed it onto the counter in a way that made me feel the need to cover my face, lest my thoughts make their way through it. "Time to pay the bill."

...

"Pft."

Yeah, I'm gonna need a moment.

"Lala?"

Looking away from them with my face hidden behind a hand, I waved off Miria's worry. "Just, just a moment, please," I begged, my lips itching to let out a laugh.

Puzzled, Miria turned to look at her partner for any reason for my sudden break in composure, only to receive a shrug from the just as puzzled Isaac. Mr. Agosti just took the money and began counting out the bills without a word.

While the old man was doing his job, Isaac took the initiative to lean in with an intimidating face—er, intimidating-ish face. Homeboy could not pull off a vicious look for his life.

"Now, listen up, pal .

Hearing those words, my breathing quickened and my cheeks were no doubt darkening from the amount of effort used to hold everything in.

Mr. Agosti glanced up at Isaac with a grunt before going back to his counting. I'm pretty sure he was just humoring him to make the exchange go quickly, probably wanting us to get out of his shop as fast as possible.

"You should erase our faces from your mind." The ridiculous man pointed to his face with a thumb. "Just forget that we ever set foot in this store."

Copying him, Miria pointed at herself confidently. "Erase it from your mind, pal."

At this point, I'm wheezing through my hand. I just can't with these two. Feeling an elbow nudge my side, I turned back to see said two's faces looking expectantly at me. What did they need?

"Ahum," Isaac pointedly coughed, the two pointed at their faces with more emphasis.

"Oh," I knocked a hand against my head with realization. "My apologies. Um, what was it again? Oh yes, that's right." With a comically-serious frown, brows downturned to sell the expression visible on my face, I joined them and pointed at my face. It was honestly hard to try and keep a straight face when Mr. Agosti raised a brow. "P-please erase it—pfft, I can't—ahum! Please erase it from your mind, Sir!"

The duo gave me a thumbs-up for my efforts.

The old man just rolled his eyes at our shenanigans and continued counting the money. (I knew I should've ordered the money; there was too much to count through.)

Isaac—the man, the myth, the legend—moved back in with a scowl on his face—or what he thought of as a scowl; let's be real, this man was too nice to be mean. "And don't even think about reporting us to the police. If you do..." He trailed off, though not in a menacing way. The man was honestly at a loss about what he'd do. "What'll we do?" Isaac asked Miria in a lower volume.

Also at a loss, she frowned and put a finger to her chin in thought. "Hm...if we got nothin' special ribbed up..." The girl's face brightened with an idea. "Maybe we can just poke him in the face!"

Isaac nodded at the idea, "That sounds tough."

I facepalmed.

He leans back in, except this time, Isaac puts a hand on his hip, upping up the amp. "As I was saying, if you dare rat us out."

"If you dare rat us out." Miria chimed in, also leaning in.

Mr. Agosti pays them no mind, simply counting the money; which brings a thought to mind: Just how much was the purchase, and how much was in there?

The two clenched their hands into fists.

"Lights out."

"Lights out."

A flat stare and twitch of the owner's brow shut them up quickly, sending a shiver down their backs. In the blink of an eye, the old man and I watched silently as they collected all their things and quickly walked out the door stiffly, not daring to glance back, leaving me alone in the shop with Mr. Agosti.

Those two, always a breath of fresh air. Really.

"Here's the change."

"Hmm?" With my attention turned back to Mr. Agosti, I saw the money in his raised hand. "Oh right, the change. Thank you very much!" I smiled pleasantly, reaching over the counter and taking the money. Placing the change in my skirt pocket (that I sewed on myself since God forbid anyone makes skirts with usable pockets) I carefully lowered my suitcase onto the floor and unclasped the latches, opening the lid by a small sliver. Quickly, I took my packaged gloves and slid them through the gap, humming a happy tune and the successful purchase.

"Hey."

"Hm?" I looked up and clicked the case shut, standing to my feet to hear what the old man wanted to say.

There was a moment of silence where he stared at me as if trying to study my features. There was a moment of hesitance when the man opened his mouth, only for nothing to come out. Taking in a breath, he tried again.

"Do you know someone going by the name, Azzy?"

Azzy.

Azzy.

Azzy.

Now, where have I heard that name before?

"Azzy." I rolled that name around my tongue and tilted my head in thought. Coming up with nothing, I shook my head. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Agosti." If the old man was disappointed at my answer, he didn't show it. "Why ask me?"

"Just a whim I guess." He grunted

Funny; he doesn't seem the type to do things on a whim.

"Interesting name though. Is it short for something?" I pondered out loud as I picked up my suitcase before walking to the door.

Shrugging, Mr. Agosti went back to reading his paper with a grunt.

"Never asked."

Twisting the doorknob to the entrance, I took one look back at him to smile. "A lah, pity; sounds like it would've been a beautiful name."

With a wave goodbye and a promise to come again, I left the shopkeeper to his haberdashery and paper.

"Stay safe, Mr. Agosti! And stop smoking those cigarettes, I don't want the next time I see you in the obituary!" I laughed teasingly over my shoulder.

"You're fifty years too late to be telling me that, Brat." The old man grumbled under his breath, waving at me to go away.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, I let out an amused breath. I looked to my left. I looked to my right. I sighed.

Now where the hell did my thieves wander off to?

Ring. Ring. Ring. Rin—Ka-chink

"Hello?"

"He's alive."