Adrien Fitzgerald is usually seen dressed in only the latest styles. Whether it's jeans, slacks, dress shirts, shoes, he always looks good. Presentable. Not so much the case right now
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This is her not laughing as she slides into a chair next to him. Nope, not laughing at all. No need when she can refer to the photo she snapped before meeting him whenever she wants to examine this vision again.
"Sitara's choice. Apparently I must endure butterflies as punishment for buying her these clips in the first place." He grins at Sophie, leaning closer to kiss her on the cheek. "How are you?"
Silas knows better than to laugh around Adrien anymore. Things never quite recovered from, well. What Silas made them become.
But he can't not raise an eyebrow at the sight of all of those clips in the younger man's hair. There's a moment of hesitation before he stops, shoebox in one hand and garment bag in the other. Three freshly dry-cleaned suits, and a new suit and pair of shoes. These are all glorious things to be in possession of. But that isn't what matters right now. What matters is inclining his head and trying to smile.
He can’t help the way his eyes cool when he looks up from his notebook and sees his King. It translates through to his voice as he responds, though the overlying tone is as cheerful as ever. “Something like that. She seems to be dressing me up a lot more than the other way around.”
That coldness hurts more than he can even begin to explain, really. But he chuckles, just weakly. "I expect Arachne and Andromeda will be much the same, considering who their mother is. I have at least a couple of years before that starts, though."
With a small nod toward the store, he lifts a brow. "I take it she's deciding what Santa is getting her for Christmas. While she's doing that, I'd like to talk, Adrien." He gestures across the street. "Just coffee and a conversation. I don't expect anything to come of it, but I do miss talking to you." Misses being friends. Misses having Adrien come pry him away from work and do nothing instead.
He raises his eyebrows, glancing across the street before looking back at Silas. "If you've anything to say, I'm sure you can say it just as well right here as you could over there. My seven-year-old, easily startled daughter is inside that store, Silas, and I'm surprised that she hasn't come out yet. I'm not going to just leave."
“I bought her these, actually,” Adrien said, grinning up at Ben. “She promptly decided they looked better on me, and now she’s inside the store looking at Lego firetrucks or something.”
"I don't think it's the color. It's more... her." He shrugs a shoulder. "She doesn't like dressing up unless it's a party. I can only try to sway her."
He vanishes for one day, and this is what becomes of Adrien. Alas. Thank goodness Sitara seems to be the one in charge. And thank goodness Sitara knows what's what in the world--Legos rank high above looking 'appropriately snazzy.'
And, well. Adrien does look snazzy. That's why he's getting kicked in the foot as the Ten passes.
"No, it's me. And this? Is because Sitara thinks they look better on me than on her. I think I'll try to convince her next time that they look best on Uncle Cadogan." All the smirks, Cadogan. All of them.
"Should I? I don't know, Sitara might want her clips back eventually." He grins at Leigh. "Did you see her inside cooing over the train sets? She's such a stubborn girl."
"Not if she's using you to store 'em all. Maybe one or two at a time, but she won't want them all back at once." Leigh glances at the shop again, smiling at the sight. "Why's it stubborn? She wants what she wants, yeah?"
“I hope she’s not planning on using me as storage. She has enough drawers in her bedroom to shove all these somewhere, surely.” He laughs a little, closing the notebook in his hands. “She’s stubborn because she won’t let me change her mind about anything. She’s always in the right. And now that she’s decided that nice clothes are only for special occasions, I can’t do anything about it. Not that I really want to, now.”
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"New look for you?"
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Nope. She's leaving it at that.
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But he can't not raise an eyebrow at the sight of all of those clips in the younger man's hair. There's a moment of hesitation before he stops, shoebox in one hand and garment bag in the other. Three freshly dry-cleaned suits, and a new suit and pair of shoes. These are all glorious things to be in possession of. But that isn't what matters right now. What matters is inclining his head and trying to smile.
"Did she feel like being a hairdresser today?"
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With a small nod toward the store, he lifts a brow. "I take it she's deciding what Santa is getting her for Christmas. While she's doing that, I'd like to talk, Adrien." He gestures across the street. "Just coffee and a conversation. I don't expect anything to come of it, but I do miss talking to you." Misses being friends. Misses having Adrien come pry him away from work and do nothing instead.
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Well, one of them.
"What did you do," he asks as he leans his elbows on the back of the bench. "Make the lass wear a hairbow?"
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Oh, the irony.
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And, well. Adrien does look snazzy. That's why he's getting kicked in the foot as the Ten passes.
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/It's impressive. Making sure you were really you and not some crazed look-alike./
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So memorable.
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