A/N: Heins-centric chapter! You know you want it. More OCs appear here. As a side note, I've had some long thinking about what I wanted the Hans family last name to be for my canon (thank you to my reader for mentioning the official standpoint, you know who you are!). Although I do favor Anderson, after much thought I've decided I do want this story to follow Frozen canon as closely as possible, so I've decided to switch things up. Hans Anderson Westergard it is!
-Chapter Twelve-
Foot in an Open Door
Hans sighed wearily and he leaned his throbbing head against the doorframe of the shop where he was slumped on the front steps. The echoes of a dozen conversations seemed to rattle through his ears, all similar to the one he'd just experienced.
"I'm truly sorry, but we just can't afford to hire an extra hand on right now."
"Are you sure?"
"Quite, but perhaps you could try the livery."
Hans simply did not have the heart to protest that he already had. This is impossible. A few very long minutes later, Hans turned away from the shut door, kicking a rock into the gutter as he passed the curb, his face set into a frown. He'd tried proposing to everyone he'd seen, one business after another, and each one, in turn, had rejected him. It wasn't that they'd been particularly unkind, in fact, the majority of them seemed more than understanding, but had still ended with a form rejection. Much as it depressed him to admit, It was time to throw in the towel. Noting the darkness swiftly setting into the sky, he stopped a man on the street as he passed, giving him a brief touch on the shoulder. "I beg your indulgence, sir, do you have the time?"
The man patted a patch at his waist and removed a dull pocket watch, squinting at it. "Nearly quarter past six."
Damn, I'm late. Hans nodded and murmured a polite thanks to the man as he broke into a jog, heading back to where he'd said he would meet Kristoff and Heins later. When he got there, he was alone. Where are they?
"Han-erm, you there!" Heins weaved his way through two people to his brother, all smiles and sunshine, which was just enough to make Hans barely manage a smile in return. "Come here!" Heins snagged his brother's hand in his own and pulled him forcibly behind him, almost at a run. "Come on! Come on, come on, come on!"
"Whoah, wait, where are we going? Okay, I'm coming!" Tagging along behind his brother, Hans deftly avoided several little obstacles as they wound through the town, until they came to a screeching stop in front of a store one away from the end of the little street. He couldn't help the smile on his face as he gazed at the closed store in front of him, trying to figure out what their sudden halt meant. A sign hanging overhead painted in yellow read "Livets Mode". Confused, Hans stared at the large, dim window display taking up half the store, two mannequins behind it bearing overdone, brightly-colored outfits. His smile dropped. "… fashion. You brought me here for fashion? You're supposed to be looking for work, not looking for something to wear!"
"But that's what I wanted to tell you! I found a job!" Heins' eyes darted from his brother, to the store, and back, as if waiting with baited breath for a reaction.
Hans blinked, putting the pieces together. "… are you serious?"
"Yes!" his brother squealed, "And I found us a place to stay, too! Up there!" He pointed at the top of the building. "I hired us out the attic in exchange for a small decrease in pay, and we'll still make enough to eat, at least until the Gala!"
"You…" Hans stared at his brother in awe. How was it possible Heins had so easily acquired them not only a place to stay, but money for necessities, too? The bewildered look on his face must have affected Heins negatively because his shoulders fell.
"Oh, I knew I should have told you earlier, but I didn't know where to find you after you were late, so I told Kristoff to go on ahead with the good news for Anna so she could know where we would be staying and I would wait around to catch you when you did show up. I should have told you earlier… you're not mad, are you? I hope you aren't. Did you find a better job?"
"No, no, I'm not mad," Hans sputtered, trying to save face from having to tell his brother the truth about his failure, "whatever I found, it's irrelevant… I'm just a little surprised, is all."
"Let me show you inside!"
"Okay," Hans allowed himself to be led into the alleyway, where a pair of stairs led up to a door built into the side of the store. Heins fiddled with a key on an old metal ring, sticking it into the lock and turning it with a squeak of protest. The attic opened to reveal a very dusty and somewhat crowded space. Unused mannequins and boxes of knick-knacks were piled along the walls, the rooftop just above Heins' head, who was a little taller than his younger brother.
"Well?" Heins asked hopefully. "It needs a little cleaning, but I figure, we can have it changed into a temporary living space in no time. It even has a bed! The owner of the store, Mr. Egil, says that we can use anything we find up here for our own purposes. Hans, just look at all the things I've found!" He bent over and brought a box to a rickety desk table, placing it on top and opening it, waving the dust away with a hand and lifting out old bolts of unused fabric. "This color is perfect for your skintone! And it folds so well!"
"You're not planning on making anything… elaborate for the ball, are you, Heins?" Hans questioned, feeling somewhere in his gut there were many details his brother wasn't spilling easily.
"Not just like that!" exclaimed Heins with a snap of his fingers. "I have to plan, have to figure out which direction I'm going to go, what supplies I need… I have to think. And I have to get your measurements again just in case you've grown since I designed your suit for the coronation."
"I'm pretty sure I haven't grown since then," Hans remarked, amused by the thought.
"Well, you never know." Heins grunted as he scooted out an old bedframe with a sagging mattress. "You must be tired after your day of searching, and everything that's happened since we've arrived. Why don't you take a load off and I'll start organizing?"
Hans eyed the bed with a critical look. "I don't know about that…"
"Oh, don't worry, I've already looked it over, no bed bugs, no springs poking out, I promise. It may not be home, but it's better than the street."
"Alright…" Hans let himself sink down on the bed, testing it with his body mass lightly before allowing his full weight to rest on it. Despite a creak of complaint, the bed seemed to do its job, and Hans slowly eased himself into a relaxed position on his back. He stared at the angled ceiling of the attic and wondered to himself how he had come to this point in his life. A familiar flashback suddenly reared its ugly head again as he heard a child's voice ringing in his brain.
I hate you! I hate you! I'll hate you forever!
He remembered the five-year-old face twisted in fury, the small legs dashing down the hallway, tears streaming down his face. Clenched fists wiped at the blurry eyes, clapping over his ears to block out the sound of his name. Hans forcibly tried to command his thoughts in other directions, and finally resorted to his brother for assistance. "Talk to me, Heins."
"What should I say?" asked his brother as he opened the single small window in the attic to let some fresh air inside their little nook, humming to himself pleasantly.
"How about telling me why you're so happy? I know you love clothes… but this is happy even for you."
"Welll…" his brother wheedled, rocking on his feet, hefting one box onto another and pushing them out of the way, "you'll probably laugh if I tell you."
"I won't laugh. Tell me."
Heins sighed softly, followed by a sneeze as a cloud of dust stirred from all the movement. "Well… it's… this girl."
"Hold on… what?" Hans sat up halfway, leaning on an elbow. "What did you say?"
"I met someone today," his brother murmured, his skin blooming with a faint blush as he slunk his head between his shoulders. "She acts so… differently than any other girl I've ever met."
"You met a girl you're taking an interest in? I have to hear about this." Hans turned to face his brother, thankful for the interesting diversion from his own ruminating thoughts. "Go on, then."
"Well… it all started right after I left you earlier today…"
#
"Hm Hm hmmm and winter air and something cold combining… this icy force both foul and fair has a frozen heart worth mining…" Heins hummed, hands tucked behind his back, wandering the street without a care in the world. He'd paid little attention to where he was going, and he didn't care. Such things were irrelevant under the circumstances. For the first time in his life, he was completely free out in the open, with actual, real, live people who didn't care about royal things, who knew how to have fun. Passing by some children playing hopscotch on the sidewalk, he followed their chalk outline playfully, much to their giggling delight. "So cut through the heart cold and clear… strike for love and strike for fear… see the beauty something sheer, split the ice aparrrt and break the frozen hear-heart?" He stumbled to a stop in front of a shop window, nearly falling over himself.
"Hey…" He pressed his face against the glass, eyes locked on something behind the front window, a beloved pair of stained black leather boots with a delicately-stitched H near the heel. "Hey!" He pushed open the door to the shop and a bell tinkled merrily overhead.
He gazed at the merchandise surrounding him with a thrilled intake of breath. Fabrics. Fabrics were strewn everywhere: silks, satins, cotton, wool, shelves with bolts and ribbons, buttons stuffed into compartments for browsing, dresses sitting unused on perfectly poised mannequins. The shop seemed deserted, but Heins walked briskly to the counter, mind set on one thing. Brushing aside some snips of leftover ribbon sitting on the counter, probably from a previous transaction, he dinged the front bell.
After waiting a moment with no answer, he dinged again.
It was at this moment a man came out of a curtain which likely led into some kind of storage behind the front counter, setting the half-empty box aside to give Heins the once-over. Tall and thin, and likely in his late thirties, the man must have decided Heins was important enough to help first before he continued unpacking. He cleared his throat, raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head at a slightly bored upward angle. "Can I help you, sir?"
"Those boots in the window, those are mine!" Heins exclaimed, pointing back behind him to the display.
The man turned to follow Hein's point, revealing a greasy-looking black ponytail hanging limply behind him. "Oh, yes. The new Heins brand boots. Why don't you discuss a receiving date with my associate? She's in the back," the man mumbled in an apathetic voice, turning away and running his hand down a line of large books on a shelf behind the counter, removing one and flipping through it.
"Discuss it? But I really mean it, the boots-" Heins stopped himself.
We. Cannot. Be found. Have you got that? No matter how much you feel like telling someone who you are, or who I am, we cannot tell anybody. Okay? This is very important. I need you to promise me, you won't tell anybody…
Heins nodded, forcibly biting his tongue as his promise held, his lips firmly closed. A promise was a promise, especially if you made it with a brother. "Okay." Following the man's disconcerted wave, he slid aside a curtain of red leading into a much smaller back room. There were several body-length mirrors in a corner, a dressing screen half-folded against the wall, and small expansion on the side of the room, where someone was moving, bent over the floor. Heins' eyes were drawn to the addition of an uncommon sewing machine in the corner beyond the counter, bits of thread littering the carpet underneath it. He leaned over the flip-top counter to see the person better, but she was just out of his gaze, so he cleared his throat to get her attention. "Um… I was told to come and see you about… the boots in the window?"
"Name?"
"Sorry?" Heins blinked a few times.
"I need your name." The figure huffed as he did not respond immediately, straightened, and tossed an armful of clothes on a chair near the sewing machine. She was still young, probably somewhere in her mid twenties judging by the smooth skin of her complexion. Her ebony hair had been carefully pinned back out of her face with meticulous practice, twining down behind her in a long braid ending somewhere near the middle of her back. Intelligent green eyes the color of moss in the woods blinked at him, unimpressed.
"W… Westergard," Heins fumbled, watching her take a pad of paper from her crème-colored apron pocket and a pencil from behind the ear, scribbling down furiously.
"Your favorite color?"
"Green?" he questioned, earning an odd look from the woman before she shrugged.
"Foot size?"
"Pardon me?"
"I need your foot size, Mr. Westergard, if you actually want a pair of the boots."
Heins held his breath, his heart pounding thrillingly in his chest as their eyes met one another. A past conversation with his brother suddenly surfaced in his memory.
They don't even know my last name, can you believe it? It's Westergard! Westergard! They don't know my friends, or my favorite color. What if they don't like how big my feet are?
"I'm a… a size twelve?" he finally managed in a soft hush of breath.
"Good, good," she drawled as she scribbled some more. "You can come back in two weeks and we should have them in stock."
Heins leaned in towards her on both elbows, fascinated by the pure coincidence of her asking just the right questions. His voice gained a dreamy lilt as his lips curved into a blissful smile. "Come back for what?"
She paused as she put the notepad back in her apron, taking a slight step away. "The boots… if you're still interested."
"The boots?" Heins repeated, snapping out of his spell, jolting up. "Oh, the boots! Wait, you'll have another pair to me in two weeks?" That's not possible. Those are my boots. They're one of a kind.
"Certainly. Is there anything else I can help you with while you're here? You'd be wise to decide quickly, since, if the rumors of the winter ball the queen is holding are true, we'll be swamped and far too busy to accept new commissions or requests on formalwear. I do happen to have a Heins brand overcoat that hasn't been claimed yet among the rest of the pieces that are unfortunately already spoken for…" She lifted the countertop and came out from behind, stepping around Heins to open one of several cabinets, removing a bright, frilly overcoat of navy blue with goldenrod outline, a golden H stitched just below the collar in plain view.
So THIS is where those counterfeit pieces of mine are coming from… Heins blinked once and crossed his arms, the downward tilt of a frown alighting on his lips. "It's fake."
The woman's eyes widened, but she quickly falsified her surprise with a high, flitting laugh much like that of a bird twittering, waving a free hand. "You must be mistaken! We never sell anything but originals here."
With a smile likening that of someone who knew a very good secret, Heins looked down at her. "Really?" He turned, taking in the view of the supposed Heins-made clothes hanging up, sliding one after another across the bar with a clean swoosh. "Fake, fake, fake, fake fake fake, fake, aaaand…" He turned and pointed a finger at the overcoat she was still holding. "Fake."
She stared at him, stunned into silence, before there was a dinging of the front counter bell and an angry shout.
"Helena, get out here! We have customers waiting!"
"Yes, sir!" she shouted back, giving Heins a glowering look before she swished through the curtains, her tone switching into one light and pleasant. Heins followed her after a moment, only to see her speaking to a woman who was prattling on about needing something special for a blind rendezvous with a potential mate.
"I need something, something to catch his eye, you see? Something that will make me irresistible." The woman gave a turn-around for the worker, who appeared to be giving a critical eye.
"Of course, of course! Well, if you ask ME, you can do a lot with jewelry. After all, nothing will catch his eye like something shimmery, perhaps a ring?" She slunk around the front corner to point out some gaudy pieces, glass stones shining under the display glass.
"That's a terrible idea," Heins commented in stride, coming up beside the customer, who turned to face him. "A ring only draws the idea that you may be taken by another man. It won't drive him to you. If anything, it will drive him away. What are you planning on wearing to this night?"
"Well… I was thinking this." The woman gave another turn around for him, her dress a long-sleeved simple outfit of blue with an outer lacy lining decorated in spotted floral embroidery, a classic Rosemaling design.
Heins nodded, taking her in as she spun about the floor once. "I like it very much. It's completely ordinary." She blinked at him in shock. "Oh, no, no, that's a good thing! You shouldn't have to impress him with your clothing, especially not on the first meeting you have. If… if you don't mind me saying so, you really don't need anything today, but maybe… if you really must have something, a choker of some kind. You have a very nice figure, but your neckline is bare. Drawing his gaze to your neckline will help him meet your eyes. They say the eyes are the window to the soul… if you meet them enough… perhaps you'll know how he feels."
The woman's lips parted in a vulnerable expression of awe. "My word… you have a charming way of speaking." She turned back to the girl behind the counter. "I'll take it! Do you have anything made by Heins in today?"
The prince shook his head a few times at the woman named Helena from behind the customer's back, trying to ignore the odd feeling of having people throw out his name so often when he could not.
Helena arched an eyebrow at him and ignored his motions, beaming at the woman in the presence of her boss. "I'm not sure. I'll look in the back. We may have something." She quickly darted back towards the curtain where she'd come from, leaving the woman in front.
"Well, I certainly hope so! It would be a rather bad business practice to talk so about such wonderful ideas without product to back them up!" she called, turning to re-examine the rings she'd been told about earlier.
Heins followed the girl, parting the curtains just as he saw her sit down at the sewing machine.
She whirled to see him and hissed, waving a hand wildly. "Get in! And shut the curtain!"
Heins quickly obeyed and watched her snag some bright chiffon fabric from a pile of randomly strewn strips of cloth, cutting through the bolt with a swish of the scissors, fingers skillfully sliding through the sewing machine as her foot began to work the pedal. "What are you doing?" he hissed back.
"Trying to keep my skin, if that's quite alright with you!"
He watched for another moment until she grabbed a needle, cut through some golden thread with her teeth, and began to sew, a tiny "H" soon becoming apparent on the fabric. He gasped rather audibly, bringing his hands to his mouth. "You're making a fake! You're going to sell her a counterfeit!"
"So?" She sloppily tied off the initial and broke the thread between her bite. "Besides, it might not be! It could stand for my name, too!" He fingers worked to attach a simple clasp on the end of the material from a bag she fished out beneath the machine.
"But it doesn't! It stands for Heins, doesn't it?"
She stood up, but Heins blocked her way and she attempted to move around him. "Look, it doesn't matter. Mind your own business. If they think it's a Heins piece, it's just good business."
"Doesn't sound like good business," Heins replied, eyes narrowing far too knowingly for her comfort.
"Are you some sort of Heins expert?" she argued, shooting him a glare.
"Mmnh…" He grimaced, his gut screaming to tell her the truth. "Maybe? I don't know about expert."
"I'm not buying it," she snapped with a flustered toss of her braid, trying to get around him once again.
"You can't sell that; it's not even the right color for her skintone! And Heins would never be so bold as to put his initial on something he makes!"
"How would you know?"
"I just know!" Heins enthused, putting out his hands to block her only possible passage.
"Helena!" roared a voice from the store lobby, the voice of the man Heins had first spoken to when he'd entered.
"Get out of my way!" she grunted, trying to move one way past him, and then another.
"No!" Heins refused, spreading his arms out.
She pushed against his chest, slipping past him, feeling just the slightest bit of resistance before she emerged from behind the curtain, falsifying her best smile for the woman who was speaking to Mr. Egil. The man faced her with an undermining sneer. "Helena, where have you been? When you go to fetch something from our stock, you don't leave a customer waiting this long!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Egil, but I hit a snag." She threw a glower over her shoulder towards the back room. "Here's the-" She broke off, her hand coming up empty. "But… I…"
"Well?" pressed the woman, putting her hands on her hips and facing the shop owner. "Really, Mr. Egil, is this how you run your shop, a so-called business of repute?"
"If you'll only give me a moment, I'm sure I can find out what's going on here," the man said with a patronizing growl, eyes snapping at the bewildered Helena behind him.
"Forgive me for the delay! We ended up finding one left in the back!" exclaimed an exuberant Heins, emerging from the curtain and carrying a strand of ribbon between his fingers, jet black in color, with a faint shimmery gold thread lining the edges. "Wonderful thinking, Ms. Helena, I think black is the best choice as well; it lets her intended know she wants his attention, and makes the glow of her skin stand out just as you said."
The bemused customer watched as the prince approached and held one end of the ribbon in each hand. "May I?"
"You may," she purred, batting her eyelashes alluringly; holding up her hair as he affixed the ribbon around her neck. "How does it look?"
He stood back and nodded, pleased with his work. "You look a picture of sophisticated grace, milady."
The woman slid her purse open without another word, the opening tied together tightly with lacy strings. She reached inside and removed a few bills, handing them to the owner of the store with a giddy expression. "I will be back, Mr. Egil. And if you know what's good for your business, you'll keep this man on your staff." Turning, she exited the store, the door swinging shut with the tingling of the bell.
Egil turned on the two and looked from Heins to Helena, as if questioning his judgment on who he should speak to first. He strode out from behind the counter and silently switched the store sign to "closed". Turning on heel, he crossed his arms over his chest, and drummed his fingers calmly against his arm, his voice smooth as the oily shimmering in his hair as he centered his stare on Heins. "Tell me… where did you get the necklace you sold that woman?"
"Oh, yes, I found the strip of silk among some ribbon in the back. It was so perfect against the paleness of her neck, wasn't it? I just made a few split-second adjustments with the gold stitching along the outside and the clasp to hold it perfectly."
Egil blinked, staring at Heins with a deepening suspicion. "And you found the ribbon in the back?" His gaze sharpened, switching to Helena, who shrank away under it. "I've told you before those scraps were never to be used."
"Actually…" Heins cleared his throat and rocked on his heels awkwardly. "That was my fault. You see, I chose that ribbon to sell to your customer. I hoped… I would be able to convince you to give me some work if I proved my ability to sell successfully."
From the moment Helena heard him admit the fault which should have been hers, she completely forgot about the mind-wracking presence of her boss before her. He took the blame for me, she thought in astonishment. She studied him with a perplexed wrinkle of her forehead, breaking out of her train of thought as Egil grabbed Heins by the arm, guiding him roughly to the door.
"I don't know who you are or what you're trying to do, but I don't want you in my store anymore. Get out of my sight and stay-"
"Wait! Mr. Egil!"
His hand on the doorknob, the owner of the ship turned his sinister scowl on the shop girl. "What?" he snapped, unmoving from his position, nose turned up at her.
"Can I… can I just talk to you for one moment?"
The man heaved a great sigh and tossed Heins' arm back to him, holding up a pointer finger. "You don't move from this spot." He walked swiftly to Helena's side and guided her towards the back, too far for Heins to hear what they were saying. Leaning in towards the girl, a sneer on his face, he seethed. "This had better be important."
Helena had always had the good fortune to think quickly on her feet. If she were going to manage to pay this eccentric, honest stranger back for what he'd done for her, she'd have to play to Egil's greatest weaknesses: his greed and his pride. She drew her braid over her shoulder and meekly stroked it, avoiding his eye contact. "I just wanted to make sure I understood your plan correctly, sir."
"What plan?" he murmured under his breath, his hazel eyes darting back to make sure Heins hadn't moved.
"Your plan for the new hire," she responded, keeping her voice low and hesitant. "I know with your business sense you obviously thought ahead and you're delaying his hire to offer him less than you'd usually have to, which is more than I'd have ever thought to do, but I just wanted to be sure I followed your undeniable strategy for higher profit margin, since I'm only your assistant."
Egil's eyes lit with desire, his lips spreading into a slow smile as she stopped talking. "It's true we have the winter ball rumors circulating in town…"
"And did you see how easily he sold that woman a piece of ribbon, without even trying? He could easily be taught how to make a proper counterfeit, all he needs is a little help to craft our particular brand of style. He'll be making his own Heins creations in no time at all. Just imagine how much money he could make the store… but of course, you already knew that."
Egil's eyes snapped back at Heins again, and Helena knew by the way they gleamed the decision had been finalized. He straightened his posture, turning just enough for Helena to hear him. "Let me do the talking." He inhaled a stuffy breath, strode back over to Heins, and stopped before him. "Well, my dear boy, it seems you are in for a stroke of incredible luck."
"I am?" asked Heins, blinking, stunned by the man's sudden change in demeanor.
"You are. Helena has spoken of your talent with the world of fashion, and with the winter formal coming up, she's begged for you to be taken on as an assistant. She just can't seem to stay up to task with the orders she has, you see."
Helena's eyes widened with every added statement until they were horrified. I do NOT need his help! I don't need anything from him! I certainly don't need him as an assistant! I was only trying to help him get a job!
Heins tilted his head, gazing at Helena with an almost endearing look of naïve puzzlement. "Really? But she seemed to know exactly what she was doing before. She's so fast at the sewing machine I could barely keep track of her fingers."
"Regardless, my dear boy, she needs the help. After all of her begging and pleading, I could hardly hear myself think. I'll pay you exactly as I pay her, just think of that."
Heins blinked a few times, and smiled, the sort of smile from someone who knew an inside joke. "Just as she's paid, you said? What is it she's paid, I wonder?"
Egil's smile faltered for a moment, but Heins spoke before he could offer. "I… I'd like to accept your proposal; I really would."
"You would?" asked Helena. "But-" she was hushed into silence by a stern glower from her boss. Mind your own business, Helena. It's not your affair what happens to him or how little he's paid.
"It's just that… my brother and I only recently came by ship to Arendelle and we're new to the kingdom. We were hoping to find a place to stay at decent wage. It would have to be enough to support us."
Egil tossed his head with a false sympathetic shake. "A pity, but I'm afraid I can't pay you anymore than what I pay Helena. Take my offer presently or I'll have to withdraw it. You won't find work anywhere else in this town; I assure you."
"Mr. Egil, Weren't you saying you were thinking of renting out the attic above the shop to someone looking for a room?" Helena ventured, hugging her arms. He said nothing of the sort, Helena! What are you doing? Quick, add something on, he's looking suspicious! "Of course, I'm sure he'd understand if you have to pay him less, Mr. Egil, but it would solve the work conflicts… perhaps the room, the use of any supplies he finds there and commission from whatever he sells himself would be fair exchange?" A look of exasperation washed over her face. Steady, Helena. You've come this far, maybe you can actually get him enough to live on for now. The attic is nowhere near livable, but at least it's something.
Egil's smile widened, probably congratulating himself on her idea, obviously doubtful the new employee would sell enough to warrant any real concerns. "All too true, Helena. What do you say, boy? You and your brother both can stay in my attic and I'll only dock you half of what you make for the commodity use."
"Really?" Heins looked straight past Egil, directly at Helena's eyes. "And you need my help? You begged for my assistance? Do you mean that?"
Her knees began to buckle beneath her as she saw the honest innocence behind his gentle, green gaze. She saw Egil's stern face in her peripheral vision, and despite how much she refuted them, the words came out in a soft breath. "I mean it."
"Then it's a deal!" exclaimed Egil, snatching Heins' hand and shaking it voraciously up and down, looking more animated than he had since the two first met.
"A deal… a deal!" Heins brightened with a smile which seemed to light the entire room in sunshine. "I have to go tell my brother right away! I'll be back first thing tomorrow to start work; I promise!"
"Wait," exclaimed Egil, who ducked behind the front counter and squatted, shifting aside a few things in the cupboard. "Aha. Here, your key to your new living space, your highness." Chuckling as he made a false bow, he was stunned to see Heins accept the key without any sign of distemper at all.
"Thank you very much!" Accepting the key, he bowed in return, and it was the smoothest, most refined dip Helena had ever seen. He moved past Egil with a suave slip, taking her hand in his own and lifting it, brushing his lips over her hand cupped in his own. She felt her cheeks warm a little, but he had finished before she managed to say anything. "Goodbye!" Turning on heel, the man bolted from the shop, skidding and dashing to the right out of sight.
"… odd," remarked Egil as he left, snorting and going to his records to see which customers paid the most in the previous months.
Helena remained stationary, staring at the door as it swung shut. Lifting her hand, she felt something tucked inside her palm, opening her fingers to find the fake choker she'd quickly made just moments ago. A tiny smile lit her face. Odd, yes. But… somehow… charming.
#
"That's when I came here!" exclaimed Heins, turning from pushing the last group of boxes out of the way. "I really like her, Hans. I think I can help her with all her orders coming up soon. I hope you can meet her, too. What do you think? Do you think we'll get along alright?"
A steady, soft exhale of breath responded, and Heins glanced in his brother's direction to see him curled up on the mattress, sound asleep.
Sighing with sympathy, but a twinge of regret for his story going unheard, he sank down and draped a sheet over his youngest brother to keep him comfortable. Satisfied with his work, Heins made his way to a chairless desk in the corner, kneeling before it and taking out a pad of paper from the drawer, followed by a quill. Lighting a candle on the desktop, he let his creative mind take over the pen, sketching out the first of many suit ideas as he began to plan. "Oh, little brother... just you wait until the ball. I'm going to make us both shine so bright, the stars will be jealous."
A/N:
Livets Mode= "Fashions of Life" in Swedish.
Helena is pronounced "Heh-lay-nuh."
Thoughts? : ) Don't leave me hanging, click the review button and let me know!