Pretty frills and Bow Ties

[poutine_pwns]

Who: Pierre and Gilbert
When:  September 27th, late afternoon
Where: Costume Shop
What: Because Pierre may or may not want some new clothes~

Comments

[hergelaufene]

Gilbert barely glanced up from the magazine he was breezing through. The reason for this was the fact that he had a large set of headphones around his ears, grooving to himself and singing along in quiet German. Oh yeah, that and the newest issue of SPLATMagazine had him completely occupied.

So even as the man stood in front of his counter, clearing his throat, Gilbert was completely absorbed. Totally not paying attention to the small little French-Canadian thing in front of him. Probably to his detriment.

[ooc: I am soooo sorry this took me so long to get to!]

[poutine_pwns]

Pierre was very blatantly annoyed. He didn't take being ignored very well at all. He cleared his throat in attempt to politely get the white-haired man's attention, but to no avail. Pierre scowled.

He couldn't believe he was getting so visibly ignored by a stranger. Pierre was much more used to being respected. Or was everyone this goddamn city just rude? It felt like Pierre hasn't had any pleasant encounters in a while.

"Excuse me!" Pierre finally exclaimed, slamming both his palms on the counter.

((ooc: It's alright! >w<))

[hergelaufene]

Gilbert's stool tipped back and he barely caught himself, managing to not fall over and slam his head into the concrete. Righting himself, standing up and sliding off his headphones, glaring down at the tiny boy.

"What the hell!?" he demanded, shaking his head while Gilbird rattled around his cage, twittering loudly. "What is your problem?"

[poutine_pwns]

"I could ask you the same thing," Pierre answered calmly with his signature grumpy look on his face.

He looked up at the albino, somehow annoyed at how much taller he was. Pierre was even wearing his three-inch platform boots today. At this rate, his frown was going to reach his chin. "Is ignoring a customer your idea of customer service?"

[hergelaufene]

Sighing, Gilbert turned off his iPod and put it aside. It was one of those customers. "No," he said, opening the cage and lifting Gilbird out, letting him nestle against his chest, tiny feathers puffed out, "My idea of customer service is being polite even to the most nasty little boys that walk into my shop."

He grinned. "Welcome to Theatricality, what can I get for you today~?"

[poutine_pwns]

Little boy?! Pierre was offended. He was 21! A full fledged adult! Hardly a little boy. He was a man, darn it! Sure enough, Pierre was short and his face probably didn't mature as much as it could've but... but still! This kind of treatment was unfair.

Pierre took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. "I need a new coat." He answered without intonation in attempt to sound civil. "Something fancy and elegant-looking."

[hergelaufene]

"Something fancy?" Gilbert leaned on the counter, lacing his fingers together, looking the boy up and down slowly, "That's a pretty broad term there klein-meister. I need ages, periods, dates... Something besides 'fancy'."

Reaching into a drawer he pulled out a tape measure. "And do you want to pick fabrics? and colours? I need some specifics."

[poutine_pwns]

Pierre shrugged. It wouldn't hurt to have something remotely close to his old coat, right? He didn't want to replace it or anything, but Pierre was fond of its style.

After a second's hesitation, he answered. "A frock coat then. Plum-coloured and made out of wool."

[hergelaufene]

"Wow could you be any gayer?" Gilbert mumbled to himself, drawing the line over his arms and torso, mentally storing away the numbers. Gilbird finally calmed down, hopping out of his cage and watching Pierre with tiny beady-eyes. Wrapping the tape around his shoulders, the Prussian started down a far aisle.

At the back of the store, the Prussian had rolls of fabric laid out along nooks and crannies in the wall, frowning at them, fist tucked under his chin. "Plum?" he called back, "Like... dark-dark-plum or I'm-more-of-a-red-grape plum?"

[poutine_pwns]

There was definitely nothing gay about plum frock coat... even if it was long and pretty and--- Pierre's lips curled in, trying to suppress to urge to spout something unkind. Not only was this guy crazy tall, he was strangely frustrating.

Pierre crossed his arms as he watched the man disappear down the aisle, wondering all the while why he couldn't grow that tall no matter how much he tried.

"Dark," He answered in an annoyed tone. Darn it, his thoughts were pissing him off.

[hergelaufene]

Returning with a large roll of dark plum material, Gilbert laid it out on the counter, pulling himself up onto it. “Now a frock coat,” he said, leaning back on his hands, feet banging against the counter contemplatively, “Any buttons? Any particular style?”

Gilbird peeped quietly, fluttering over to Pierre, hovering over him and circling his head while his owner reached over to his bag, pulling out a sketchbook, opening it and holding it out. “I need some details, I can’t just design a coat. Well I can but knowing you it wouldn’t be good enough for you.

[poutine_pwns]

Well, that was a fairly accurate assumption, Pierre thought, even though it was kind of annoying. He tried imagining a new coat in his head. "As long as the buttons are gold-coloured. And I want two buttons on the cuffs too."

He watched the little bird with curious eyes as he continued his description, explaining in detail how the coat had to be cut right above his knee, had to have waist pockets that shouldn't be easily noticeable, had to have golden buttons that would wrap around his stomach when he closed them, had to have sleeves that widened at the ends, amongst other things; but those were the main points.

[hergelaufene]

Gilbert's pencil skittered across the page as the boy talked, his free hand propping up his chin as he finished with the large sleeves, frowning for a moment. He lifted the sketchbook up, tilting it to the left. Then to the right. Then tilted his head and closing one eyes.

"You know kid," he said, looking down at him, resting the sketchbook in his lap. "This isn't a half-bad looking coat."