So at this point in time Alice has been, well, even more adopted by the RE (she's practically property now), since they've realized that they can kind of track the lung plague with her (since she's not immune (all that's a part of her backstory, which has to do with her powers)) so they make her stay at the base. And since the Re establishment likes displaying their property all shiny, (And Warner is a fashionista who does not let the chance to pick out cutesy little dresses pass) they get a tailor.
This was really fun to write. I looked at a bunch of Lolita dresses. They were so cute.
"How long do I have to stand here?", Alice asked. A whine lurking underneath.
"Until Larson is done with the measurements...", Warner replied absentmindedly in the tailor's stead, since the man's mouth was occupied with holding pins.
He flicked the page.
"And how long does that take?", Alice wondered.
"It solely depends on how still you are...", he replied, knowing from experience.
He flicked the page back and frowned.
He had been given a thick catalog with children's clothing and upon discovering the dress section it was like he had gone into another room. The only proof that he was still with them was the occasional flick the pages. He made sure to fold the corners of the pages he was interested in and would go back later and single some out. Which was necessary, because there were more dog ears than straight pages.
Right now he was comparing a polka dotted apron dress, and a tartan english dress.
It was a hard decision.
"Alice", he said.
"Mhm?", she hummed from her position before the mirror. Arms outstretched and a measuring tape being stretched out from her waist to her armpit.
"Dots or squares?", he asked, and flicked the page back and forth again.
"Squares I think", she replied after some thought.
He frowned. On second thought he really liked those dots. He folded the corner. He'd have to come back to it later.
"Look, it's almost the one I have!", Alice said excitedly and pointed at the page from over Warner's shoulder.
Said page was covered in different designs of white cotton blouses. The one Alice was pointing at had a rounded sailors collar with a flap on the back. It shared the lace hem around the edge, but had an additional black stripe running along the whole circumference. Or, it didn't have to be black, you could customize it apparently. And it also had a bow in the front.
It wasn't clear of it was included or not.
And the main difference that it was long sleeved.
"Can I have it?", she wondered.
He was just about to point out that she already had one, and that one was certainly enough, when he realized to his discomfort that they had probably cremated it back when they sanitized the living quarter she had been in.
"Can I?", she urged. Making the chair shake a little.
"You're going to have to pick out a skirt that looks good with it…", he said, trying to sound as uninterested (and guiltless) as possible.
"Oh okay…", she said, thankfully stopping her shaking.
She thought for a few moments.
"Do they have any of those dresses?", she asked.
He had to turn his chair around to look, and she gestured for him by running both of her cupped hands along her front up and down.
He looked at her for a few seconds.
"You mean a suspender skirt?", he asked.
"Yes?", Alice said, clearly unsure.
He went back to the skirt section and skimmed through it until he found one.
"Like that?"
She leaned in, but shook her head.
"No it's more like a dress…", she said.
"They're usually made out of jeans", she continued.
He thought for a moment.
"A dungaree dress?", he asked.
She blinked.
"I don't know what that is…"
He skimmed some more and found a sort of denim section. And sure enough there was a page dedicated to the blue rectangular dresses.
"Yeah! One of those! But black. Can you get it in black?", she asked turning to the tailor at the other side of the room. He was putting his things together over by the mirrors.
Then she remembered that Warner was the one making the order. And the one with the wallet.
"Would that work?", she asked turning back to him.
He was already on the case. He flicked back and forth between the blouse and the dress. He cocked his head. Put a knuckle to his lips.
As long as the square with the pocket in the front didn't cover the bow it could actually look alright.
And he had already bookmarked other dresses that required separate shirts. And if you could customize the color of the stripe and bow… the possibilities were endless!
"I suppose…", he said at the same note as before.
"It won't be for formal occasions though", he added.
"Why not…!?", she asked, or demanded rather, obviously offended that her choice of clothing didn't meet up to his standards.
"Too plain is all. But hey, you'll have all these other dresses you can pick from", he said and gestured at his half finished lists.
She stared at it.
"Those are numbers."
"Yes, and each represent a dress", he assured.
During their little argument the tailor had walked up to them. He put on his glasses while Warner held out the catalog gave the page a few taps.
"You mean 236-4a?", the tailor asked.
"Yes", Warner confirmed.
"Black was it, sir?", he asked Warner.
Warner nodded.
The tailor clicked his tongue a couple of times. But he brought out a notebook and a pen and started scribbling some things down.
"It shouldn't be too hard. I'll have to ask them to use some sort of black cotton fabric instead of the denim and make sure the thread matches; change the buttons to black and that should be it", he said.
"Excellent", Warner said. Meanwhile Alice was bouncing up and down in joyful bliss.
I think there was supposed to be a chapter in between these to fill up some time, because you don't make a bunch of dresses in the span of a week.
To be honest, Delalieu couldn't tell who was more excited about the delivery. The chief commander or the girl.
"Open it! Open it! Open it!"
"Delalieu where are the scissors?"
"Open it!", Alice repeated as her bouncing by the chair intensified.
"In the drawer?", Delalieu said.
Warner got the scissors and swiftly cut along the tape keeping them from the goodies. And as soon as the plastic broke the lid flew open and the tightly packed clothing articles popped out like an erupting volcano.
"There we go!", Warner declared and rose to admire his handy work.
Alice squealed and bent down to start scuffling through them.
Delalieu went forward to see as well, he had heard so much about the clothes so it wasn't odd that he had grown curious. Though it wasn't really what he had expected.
"Is it... only underwear?", he asked from where he stood behind Alice.
He saw tank tops, stockings, socks; all sort of socks; knee high, normal, ankle, and 'no shows' (he didn't know eleven year old used those). Then there were boxes of pastel colored squares that he assumed to be panties; but he didn't look too close. And still in the box were two sets of pyjamas.
But there was no sign of ordinary clothing.
"No it's just the top", Alice said; and sure enough underneath the folded pyjamas laid a plastic wrapped black square. And as soon as it was uncovered Alice threw herself back into the rug and squealed in delight. Making Delalieu jump half a meter into the air.
"This box contain the less fragile clothing, lieutenant", Warner explained over the tiny ruckus and started taking out some other articles. He laid them out on the awaiting desk.
"The dresses are still being brought up."
"Why are they taking longer?", Delalieu wondered.
"Because the rack didn't fit in the elevator up from the gym", Warner answered simply.
'The rack…'
He decided not to ask.
Down on the floor Alice had calmed down (enough) from her excitement to ask:
"Can I open it?"
"Yes", Warner replied. But before she got to tear open the packaging the chief commander had pushed one of the things from the desk into her arms.
"Try it on together with this."
Delalieu leaned over. By the white cotton fabric and the line of buttons he could only assume to belong to a shirt of some sort.
"Take some socks with you. Black", Warner instructed.
"You know where the bathroom is."
She gathered the things into her arms and went, a sort of playful skip in her stance.
"And bring back the plastic. I don't want you littering my room!", he called after her.
"Okay!", she called back.
She came back a few minutes later, the hospital clothing completely gone.
The black square had been a dungaree dress, and as soon as he saw it he realized that he has not seen one of those for a very long time. Her socks matching perfectly with the black fabric. When she spun around in a pirouette he saw that the blouse had a flap in the back with a neat black bow in the front, and he understood why she was so excited.
Warner was more straight to business.
"Lift your arms up", he instructed her.
She did, after frowning at him.
"Wave them around a little", he nodded for her.
She did, looking like a swimming athlete preparing for the 100 meter butterfly.
"Does it stretch anywhere?", he asked.
"Isn't the point of tailors that they make clothes that fit?", she pointed out to him. Still propelling her arms.
"Well, maybe you moved around so that the measurements got wrong...", he retorted.
"I stood very still!", she retorted offended. Her arms fell dead at her sides.
"I did!", she told Delalieu, hoping for some sort of backup.
He just smiled and patted her on the cheek.
"If the clothes fit I'm sure you did, Darling."
She shone up like a sunflower at that.
"And they do!", she told Warner.
He just rolled his eyes and passed her a pair of jeans. Because Warner had, beyond all belief, added a few pants.
"Try these as well, and they are supposed to be a little too long…"
After pulling at the waist band they concluded that they were the right size.
After that they didn't have time for pants.
The rack had arrived.
Then Alice put some dress on
"Isn't it pretty!", Alice gushed as she twirled around. Making the petticoat swell up like a upside down rose in full bloom. She giggled at the sight and spun around some more, as quickly as her feet could pirouette. When she was done she swayed some and had to take a hold of Delalieu's outstretched hand to not topple over.
"You look just like one of those little French biscuits!", Delalieu beamed at the young girl's bliss.
She was like a completely different girl when she was out of the hospital clothing. Giggling, skipping and dancing. She was a ghost turned into a pixie.
"A macaron?", Warner asked from over the rack of dresses. His hands swiftly skimming through the clothes bags, opening them and zipping them closed again when he didn't find what he was looking for.
"Yes one of those!", the lieutenant said and swung their joined hands, making Alice giggle in glee.
And she sure did with all the pastel colored petticoats, the ruffled hems, the laced edges, the ribbons and the knee socks. Deep in his mind he wondered if Warner had shopped for an eleven year old girl or a dress up doll. But Alice seemed to love it either way, so he didn't mention it.
"I look like a pasta?", Alice suddenly said, her mouth agape.
"No no, dear, a macaron. It's a treat made of… um… almond, is it?", he said looking at the chief commander for confirmation.
"Yes, almond", Warner replied.
"Oh", Alice said.
"That sound like macaroni, don't you think?", she told them.
"Macaroni is Italian", Warner corrected from across the room.
"It does", Delalieu agreed under his breath so that the chief commander wouldn't hear. She smiled.