Horace's day had been full of studying and lectures, he was happy to get out into the outer campus. He found it more peaceful then the inner campus. The inner campus was full of too much hustle and bustle. The outer campus seemed to be quiet most of the day.

Horace rushed along the street, hoping he would make it to the shop before it closed for the night. He was watching his feet, hoping he wouldn't trip. He had been told that a suit shop in Peregrin was having a sale on silk vest. He hoped to find a one in red or green, his two favorite colors and the two that looked best on him.

He walked along the sidewalk trying to find the shop. He started picking up the pace. He decided to finally ask someone if they knew where it was. He looked around for somebody but didn't see anybody right away, then someone finally started to come up the street. He looked like a Giorian, mostly because he was albino. Horace hoped not to offend by walking up to somebody and asking for something right away, but he needed that vest.

"Excuse me sir, I was wondering if you could help me fin--" Then it finally hit Horace, 'You're taller then me." No one was ever taller than him.

Vincent was a bit lost himself. The boy's slanted eyes narrowed even further as a visible of irritation at himself. Where the clock was the surplus store? This errand that he had to run for his latest Physical research project was starting to turn into an all-afternoon ordeal. Gods, why can't anything be simple? The towering albino sighed, turning a corner onto a new street. Maybe he will find what he is looking for around here.



Any thoughts that Vincent had at the present about the surplus store was temporarily put on hold in the face of such a random statement directed towards him. He didn't realize why the younger boy said such a thing until he had turned around at had gotten a good look at him. Horace was very tall for someone from Anaxas, especially so with the native galdori. Small wonder that he would be visibly surprised to find someone of the same race actually taller than him for a change. Still though, Vincent wasn't that much taller than the red head; perhaps an inch or two or three at most. He couldn't accurately say such a thing without casting some quantitative magic.

"Thank you?" Vincent was obviously caught off guard by the out-of-place observation. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh I am so sorry. I did not mean to be so ... rude. I am just not used to meeting people taller then me." Horace was still flabbergasted, he knew Giorians were usually taller then Anaxi, but he was not used to having one face to face with him. "I'm Horace by the way, Horace Aquila. Yes, I do think you might be able to help me. I am looking for a suit shop. They are having a sale on silk vest, I am hoping to find it before closing. I believe it's called 'Hudson's Suit Shop'. Might you know where it is?" Horace had the look of pleading on his face.

The younger boy was uncouth, but he seemed to mean no harm. He gave a light bow to the red head.

"You cannot be blamed for your surprise to something you do not see everyday," his baritone voice sounded with a wave of his hand. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, the only visible sign that he did not have a large of time to dally. He could take a few minutes, but not much more.

"You may call me Vincent. 'Hudson's' is down the street and on your right," he pointed vaguely in its direction. "A vest is an awfully specific piece of clothing. Is there a particular reason for that one item?"

"Oh thank you so much, I don't think I would have found it without your help. I seem to be absolutely horrible with directions lately." Horace grinned largely at the Giorian. The man seemed to be nice. He was still sorry for being so rude to him a minute ago.

"Oh, why a vest? A vest is a main part of clothing for a young galdor. These vest are silk, also. They must feel amazing to touch." If it wasn't obvious, Horace cared very much about his appearance. "You know what, I am in such a generous mood today and you helped me find the shop. I'll buy you a vest also. My treat." Horace's father, Magnus, had taught him to always treat someone who helped him. "And before you say anything, the vest are on sale. I can afford both."

Vincent's slanted eyes widened a little in surprise. Horace was a little strange to just simply offer to buy him a vest when they only just met. But he seemed like a earnest, genuinely nice boy. He glanced at his watch, and decided that he would probably have time to humor the younger student's generosity. He slipped the pocket watch back into his jacket with an air of finality in his decision.

"You are kind to treat a stranger so well, Horace. I believe that your destination is on the way to the errands that I will have to do later. Shall we go?" Vincent made a motion that indicated they could walk side-by-side down the road to the shop if Horace wished.

"We shall." Horace looked up at the student, something he rarely did. He was one of the tallest students in school, the only time he looked up was to either daydream or look up at the sky. "So, Vincent, what form are you? I myself am a sixth form. A very fashion obsessed sixth form." Horace chuckled. Ever since he was a child his parents had bought him the best and most latest outfits in galdor fashion trends. His mother was always doting on him, giving him coats and vest. His mother is probably the enabler for his fashion addiction. He didn't see anything wrong with spending a little money to make yourself look better though, in fact, he thought it was a crime to not make yourself look the best you can, especially if you could afford it.

Vincent nodded in indication that he heard.
"I am in my last year here. At least, as a student. I will possibly go into an apprenticeship somewhere on campus."

He glanced at the younger student as they neared the shop.
"Have you decided on a specialization? There is always a lot of pressure for everyone to pick something at your age."

They were almost to the shop now.

By the time the two boys arrived at Hudson's Suit Shop, it became apparent that something was not quite business as usual. The door was slightly ajar, the wind from the rain causing it to tremble a little in its frame. Once they were standing in the canopied front entrance and mounting the stairs to the fancy, well-painted shop with impressive mannequins in the polished glass windows, the sound of shouting could be heard from inside.

"—you idiot, how could you possibly order such a fabric?"

"Me? You're the daft fool ... you actually wanted to make a suit out of that fabric there. Even Alioe herself would turn her eyes away from such a terrible weave!"

The insults continued, one man and one woman, both voices shrill with something intimidating and obviously angry. The two seemed to be critiquing each other, but from the doorway, it was hard to tell what the scene was like inside.

Vincent stopped just outside of the shop. He could clearly hear everything transpiring inside. Whatever plans that Horace may have had to buy him a vest might not go according to plan. He looked at the younger boy beside him, just as confused as he possibly was.

"Perhaps today is not the best day to shop here."

Horace's mouth was agaped. He didn't think there would be fighting at the shop, well not today at least. All he wanted was a vest. He didn't want to walk into the middle of an argument, an argument about fabric, none the less. He glanced at Vincent. He really wanted this vest

"B-but the vest. I'm sure they will stop their bickering once we go into the shop. I mean, who would want to scare customers away. That's like throwing away money." Horace wasn't business savvy, but he knew if they wanted to make a profit, they shouldn't be scaring their customers away. "Let's go in." Horace stepped into the shop, smiling. He hoped to ease the storm.

The entire store was a mess. There was, quite literally, cloth everywhere—strewn about on tables, the counter, the floor; crumpled into scraps in the corner. Then, in the center of the room, stood the two who were arguing. Mr. Hudson was a round, portly sort of galdor, now very red in the face, waving about a pair of scissors. His large, white mutton chops stood out in stark contrast to the anger in his expression, and his bushy eyebrows and curly white hair were like lost sheep on a mountain of clay. Mrs. Hudson was a tiny waif of a woman, waving a ruler like it was a Seventen's trusty saber, her impressively long brown hair pulled up into the latest most impossibly fashionable up-do. Her face was a sour mask of frustration, little eyes narrowed from behind thick-rimmed glasses, painted lips pulled tight into a scowl.

"I can't believe I married you. My father was right—I should've married a lawyer. You're ridiculous, you and your penchant for those frilly useless fabrics!"

"You'd be better off making suits out of burlap, what with your ugly tweeds and your hideous plaids!"

"That's enough, woman!"

"Don't you woman me, you scoundrel of a tailor!"

Neither of them seemed to notice the fields of the two boys who'd entered the shop. Their backs were turned as they continued to insult each other's tastes in fashion and clothing and accessories and materials. Both were, quite obviously, very well-dressed.

In the back corner, near the old cash register, a single human servant could be seen huddling behind the counter, hand over their mouth to keep from laughing. They hardly looked terrified. The young man's eyes might have drifted briefly to the students in the foyer, but far be it from him to call attention to the potential customers with so much entertainment going on.

You have to be kidding me. We walked in on a bickering couple.

A frown formed on Horace's face. He didn't want to be involved in some form of family tussle, but he really wanted a vest. He glanced at the human in the corner, almost wanting to scream at him for laughing at such a matter. He believed humans should be emotionless when around galdori. They should do their job, nothing else.

He glanced back at Vincent, A disappointed expression was painted on his face. He was going to buy a vest if it killed him. All he wanted to do was scream at the couple and tell them they are acting like children, but he restrained himself. Instead he quietly approached the couple and spoke.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Hudson. I was wondering if I may buy a vest."

Vincent just stood back in awkward silence. He wanted to just leave the store and go elsewhere, for he felt uncomfortable at witnessing fighting between spouses. The albino could not help but wonder at why Horace was so insistent on getting a vest in the face of an obviously wrong time.



The boy's red eyes widened in shock. What the clock is he doing?! He thought. Vests are going to be the last thing on this minds right now, and things look pretty hairy trying to talk to them. Dear Gods.

The boy stood far back behind the younger student, just next to the store entrance, bracing himself for a grand display of fireworks. Courtesy of a want for customer service.

There was a moment of continued argument, the two older galdori fields buzzing and crackling as their anger against each other rose with their voices. It almost didn't seem as though either of them heard Horace at all, so heated was their discussion over this fabric and that trim and someone's clocking hideous patchwork skirt. Then, suddenly, the pair fell silent.

It was not a pleasant silence.

It was an oppressive silence.

Two sets of eyes slowly drew away from the red faces of their opponent to heavily fall upon Horace. Mrs. Hudson's expression was still twisted in frustration, but as her gaze shifted to the tall student, it became one of shocked disgust instead of anything close to embarrassment. Mr. Hudson's beady eyes narrowed underneath his fluffy cloud eyebrows, face becoming a mixture of horror and shock. It was Mrs. Hudson who spoke up first, waving her ruler before pointing it roughly at Horace, nearly taking a swipe at his nose,

"Buy a vest? Does it look like we're open right now, young man? Can't you see we're in the middle of—"

"Redecorating." Chimed in Mr. Hudson, flustered, straightening his coat and running a hand over the tufts of his remaining hair.

"Y-yes. That. Well." Mrs. Hudson stammered momentarily, caught off guard by the sudden support of the man she was just calling a clocking idiot, "If you haven't already been fitted, I'm afraid there just isn't time for such business today. Perhaps you can make an—"

"Appointment."

Vincent acted before Horace had time to further dig himself into a hole. In two long strides, he came up from behind and placed a firm hand on the younger student's shoulder. Not rough, just urgent. It was time to leave.

"Let us away," the albino rumbled quietly in his ear as he easily steered the red head towards the exit of the store. He called back behind him to the glaring couple on the way out of the store.

"My sincerest apologies. Perhaps when the store is open again."

If the couple decided to open it together again.

Horace shot a look back at Vince, it was either anger or disappointment, most likely the latter. He looked back at the shopkeeps, if they even deserve that name, and scowled at Mrs. Hudson. She seemed to be the more unpleasant of the two.

"Fine, I will come back later. May I make an appointment now? I would like this vest as soon as possible." Horace looked back at Vincent, again. This time smirking slightly.

"I would like to schedule an appointment for my friend here, also."

"Appointment?" Said Mrs. Hudson as if the magnitude of a customer had finally risen above the heat of the argument she appeared to be engaged in. She pushed her thick-rimmed glasses back up her nose and tousled her mousy hair, looking away from her husband with almost a coy expression,

"I'm free in the afternoon on the third for yourself, young man. Your tall friend can come back on the morning of the fourth ... perhaps before his classes?"

"The third–" Mr. Hudson blinked, fluffy brows coming together into something incredulous, "But I'm to pick up a new shipment of ..." Suddenly, it clicked and his tone became one of a smooth business man, "Ahem! I believe my calendar is free on the second, early in the evening. And I can see both of you."

"Perhaps because I ..." Mrs. Hudson narrowed her eyes. She had a hat society meeting that evening. She pouted, hands coming to rest on her hips, ruler dangling as she cast Horace a despondent look.

It appeared that the Hudsons were forcing Horace to choose.

"Well of course I am going to pick the more Convenient one. On the twos, my last class is independent study. I may be able to get here early and be finished before Vincent needs to be measured. It would probably be much easier for you Mr. Hudson." Mr. Hudson seemed like a smart business man. He knew to make sure he got the boys before his wife, for some odd reason. Now Horace was making sure he finally got his vest. Life was good, well for Horace at least. "What time would you like me to arrive, Mr. Hudson?"

There was a flustered silence, heavy and pregnant with some kind of expectation of violence, the two older galdori fields just tingling with their previous frustrations. Then Horace spoke and both of them seemed to blink in unison.

Mrs. Hudson frowned, wilting briefly, before drawing herself up to her full, limited height, hands on her hips, knuckles white on her ruler. Her eyes were daggers contained only behind the thickness of her glasses, but she said nothing, cheeks red with her holding it all in.

"Ah, splendid." Gloated Mr. Hudson, "Whenever your class is over, I will be happy to make time for you. My schedule is always light on the twos." Usually because he played cards that day, but he wasn't about to mention that in front of his wife at this particular moment.

"Just be careful to come before sunset."

The towering albino had been standing behind the redheaded boy, rooted to the spot. He wasn't quite sure why, against all odds the present company of the co-owners had not erupted into a monstrous fury. At this point, he no longer wanted to take his chances.

He renewed his grip with the hand that was still on the younger student's shoulder. He bowed lightly to the Hudsons and turned on his heel without a word. Steering the significantly lighter boy out of the shop was an easy matter.

There were no backward glances as the door closed in the quarreling couple's faces.