Oswald looked over himself in the mirror, adjusting his new clothes close to himself. He was with Regan in her bedroom. To his shock, this was not nearly as scandalous as he thought. To his further shock, fashion had changed into something... Like this. The clothes he had were a bit tight, and the way his frame filled them out left little to the imagination.

He glanced at Regan, and she only had smiles to confirm his fears of showing too much of his unnatural physique. Or perhaps those were smiles of motivation?

He turned on his heel and looked across himself again. The canvas like material of these jeans he wore were opaque at least. Hid the muscle of his legs, but the rough fabric fell so far down past his ankles they required rolling up. This was something Regan insisted was part of the fashion, a fact that Oswald again scoffed at. Nobles can have their fashion, all he needed were his boots and hood and something to keep him decent.

He was so used to hiding his physical shape. Stooping over and hunching forward, his hood always belayed his power, but this thin fabric "shirt" did not. This shirt also had so much loose fabric it was supposed to be rolled up high onto his biceps. And the necktie... A strange thing to wear, but... Fashion, Regan insisted.

After carefully explaining that piercings, hair cutting and waxing were impossible for a kindred, Regan had provided him with these clothes. These fashionable clothes to wear under his long 'mane' and full beard. Regan casually referred to the entire style as 'Hipster'.

Oswald sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror. "I feel a fool, Regan."

"You look great! Really, trust me, this is good fashion right now, you want to look like an approachable... Uh, scholar, right? This is the look!"

Oswald let out another long sigh and crossed his arms over his soft red tie. White shirt, red tie, blue jeans, he turned back to his old ensamble and then to Regan. "Footwear is still done these days, yes?"

"Yes, yes of course..." Regan hurried over to her bed and pulled out a wooden box. "I figured you would want some boots, so..." She pulled the top off and showed Oswald a pair of thin leather boots, with zippers at the ankles, which confused him on a surface level.

"Boots are appreciated..." He put a finger to the zipper on one boot and looked up at Regan as he removed them, and took socks from her quick hands. At least socks haven't changed to an incredible degree. Though they did look a bit childish in size.

"So! Speaking of... Uh, fitting in, I guess. There's some things you should know."

Oswald leered up at Regan as she spoke, but didn't interrupt her as he focused on working his boots. Zippers and laces... One of them were surely redundant.

Regan took a moment to rub her chin and grab some other articles. A sack and some dark glasses. Glasses were glasses, dark or not, but Oswald merely stared at the soft wool sack as Regan spoke.

"It's a hat. Anyways, er, I was thinking, if you're going to run a clinic, you should take a bit of time to get some clients, maybe? I'm not really good at that kind of thing, you know, running a business." Regan sheepishly commented, looking aside. "I also kind of have to get to my own job, so you would need to... Run it all by yourself."

Oswald rolled his head to the side as he slid the hat up over his head. The mirror told him the wool sack didn't look right with the rest of his outfit. He removed it and stood, facing Regan, who, to his keen eyes, was visibly uncomfortable. She was flushed in the face and the color was gone from her hands. She was embarressed, confused and anxious all at once, and as a member of his herd, she didn't need that.

The elder offered his hand to Regan, who looked down at it, then up at him. She awkwardly put her hand into his, and his other, sack in hand, laid upon hers. In a blink, Regan was gone, and he was standing before the young Mildred once again in London. Oswald took a new breath and sighed once again, clearing his vivid vision away of the dusted past.

"Thank you, Regan. Your efforts have been monumental, and you've performed above and beyond your call as the descendant of my favorite woman in this world. I thank you, and appreciate everything you've done for me."

Regan blinked, and a soft level of moisture formed in her eyes as she smiled. "Thank you, Master Oswald."

Despite his physical superiority, Oswald didn't have the celerity required to avoid Regan pushing into him with a hug. He did have the sense to grunt, and reactively put his hand onto the back of her head as it laid against her shoulder.

"Yes... Yes, of course, well, you have earned my thanks, so it's the least I can do."

Regan sniffed and pulled back from him, taking a seat on her bed. She hummed and stared at the floor.

Color was returning to her, and evening out between the blush and the pale of her anxiety, and Oswald was relieved. Though now her quiet implied some kind of scheming. But after a minute of staring, Oswald turned to the mirror again. He had more complaints to internally give himself about his appearence until he'd feel comfortable.

Suddenly, Regan continued, "I guess I can help, a little bit, anyways."

He quietly looked at her, finger under his tie, then looked back at the mirror and back at her. "If,,, If you'd like to, I won't deny you."