Until Death Do Us... Nothing

[Dorian M. Black]

At least here is a venue where finery is welcome, Dorian thought dryly, opening the front door of The Silver Thimble and escaping in from the icy wind outside. A little bell trilled.

Closing the frame, a dark gaze moved idly over the glinting display cases and to the reception desk, hoping to find one of the shopkeeps, or, indeed, Valentina.

Dorian appeared no differently than he had before, though the dark sapphire at his throat had been returned. Happily dry, a billow of white silk was pinned at the man's collar above a tailored and pristine evening coat. For an uncharacteristic scene, Dorian does not, in fact, look out of place. Even he seems to relax somewhat, with no Obfuscating clanmates to upset the night.

Shame for the visit itself, then, and the thought immediately sours his enjoyment. He reminds himself that at this stage he couldn't put it off much longer without severe repercussions.

[Jacob Swainswick]

"Mr. Black! It's good to see you again, sir."

The young tailor stepped around the counter, a small - although apparently genuine - smile on his lips. "Come on in, sir. Let me take your coat. Dreadfully cold, isn't it?

"I'm afraid we weren't properly introduced before," he continued. "Jacob Swainswick, assistant to Miss Audley, at your service. How may I help you this evening?"

The evening being late, Miss Wilkins had recently departed; the front of the shop was brightly lit, proofed against January's best attempts at inhospitability.

[Dorian M. Black]

"Appreciated," Dorian murmured with no particular tone. To the shopkeep was handed the requested coat.

Beneath the coat was... more clothes. Because Dorian does not Obfuscate his clothing.

"Mind the watch, it tends to slip from the inner third." He glanced briefly at Swainswick. "And - no, we were not, poor courtesy on my behalf. Dorian Black," he replied. "Have you worked long for Miss Audley?"

To the question itself, "I was hoping to discuss an order. I have a..." Dorian seemed at a loss for how best to describe it, without being absolutely truthful. "Wedding." The exhale was quiet, but equivalent to a sigh. "I have been given specifications by the bride as to the dress desired, and should she wish to handle this, Miss Audley will be paid travel expense to fit the woman in Oxford. The bridesmaids can be made available on the same or separate days."

[Jacob Swainswick]

"Almost a year, sir." He examined the coat with a professional eye; his look, approving. "A small tack on the pocket should secure it, sir, and offer no inconvenience in replacing the watch."

At the question of business, Swainswick inclined his head appreciatively. "We have a great deal of work on, sir, but I know that Miss Audley values the custom of those of your standing rather highly. Were she to take this on, you should anticipate two visits at the minimum: a preliminary consultation with the young lady (and the bridesmaids should be available also), plus at least one fitting.

"Do you know," he added, as though the thought had just occurred, "it's possible that Miss Audley might be within this very evening. If you'll give me but a moment, sir, I could go and enquire. Unless you'd prefer to make an appointment for some other time?"

[Dorian M. Black]

"I'll make an appointment," Dorian tilts his head, heightening his senses. "She must be tremendously busy."

A glance to the coat. "Although I'd be happy to pay for the tack." And, surprising perhaps for those who know little of his interactions with humans, Dorian gives the man the ghost of a smile.

[Jacob Swainswick]

"For the tack, sir, no charge. I'll see to it in but a moment." Swainswick demurred gracefully.

"To business first, however." Swainswick returned to the ledger, opening it carefully, and picking up a quill. "What would serve? Why, this Wednesday should be available. If I might suggest, and it prove convenient, some time past six of the evening? There tends to be rather more detail to nuptial raiment than one might casually anticipate.

"Might I take a card, sir?"

[Dorian M. Black]

"Charming."

Dorian hands the man a card. "Eight, if that would suit." It gave them both time to pursue their own errands... and feed.

[Valentina Audley]

The sounds, so muted to human ears, are clear to those with keen vampiric senses. Valentina is within her workroom and it sounds as though she's discussing something with another. The words float along to Dorian, thought he walls separate them.

"No, I think 10 yards of the blue cotton will see us nicely, thank you Mr Jones. The delivery in three days? I'll ask Mr Swainswick to be on hand. Very well, good night to you!" She sounds satisfied with this outcome.

Footsteps sound across the floor, two sets. One leaves via the back door, a little bell tinkling as the door closes. It must be new as the back door didn't do that when Dorian had come that way last. The other set cross rapidly towards the shop's main room.

A scant moment later and Valentina appears on the scene. She seems unsurprised to see Dorian.

"Good evening Mr Black, I shall be with you in just a moment." The words are delivered with a quick smile and the usual curtsey. She doesn't seem put out by his presence.

"Jacob darling, there's going to be a delivery from Mr Jones in three days. When he brings the cotton, will you please lay it out and start adding the tacks? Otherwise I shall never see the Miss Willoughbys' outfitted in time for their trip abroad!"

The instruction given she turns her attention to Dorian, allowing a little of her curiosity to show through on her face.

[Dorian M. Black]

Dorian inclines his head, the picture of innocence.

"What a pleasant surprise. Miss Audley."

Once the attention had been 'returned' Dorian gestures her tailoring assistant. "I have discussed briefly with Mr. Swainswick an order, in the hopes you can fulfil it. Your tailoring has impressed my family enough that word reached; it made it less difficult convincing them to take you on as the head seamstress, and not another from Oxford. I have a wedding to finance, and need of a bridal gown, as well as the suiting for men on both sides of the family and the bridesmaids."

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina raises an eyebrow. "I see." She considers the matter for a moment.

"When is the happy event to take place? And how many in the bridal party need outfitting?"

Inside her head images of all the finery begin to take place and she's itching for pencil and paper to start the sketches. Her fingers twitch slightly, in the gesture that Jacob has come to know so well as his mistress starts to slip into her designing mode.