[FIN] A Cut Above The Rest [Vale/Quinn]

[Scroll]

Valeriu had, on his own, scoped out the other buildings. Had, very carefully, taken all considerations into account, before finally beginning the long, arduous process that proceeded the placing of a bid on the storefront that Quinn had flippantly and immediately chosen.

Coincidence, but Quinn had, surprisingly and entirely luckily, placed his bets on the right building.

The work didn't end there, though. Valeriu found himself buried underneath paperwork - for the sale, for the repairs; his head was practically spinning with all the terms.

What the hell was a closing cost? Thank god he had the Carnegie family right there along with him each step of the way, or he'd be utterly baffled.

Today was his second meet-up with Quinn in as many days. Another flurried, excited phone call meant that Quinn would be meeting him here, at the Carnegie's empty apartment, while they were off at work. He nearly chucked the tiny cell phone across the room at the new, obnoxious ring tone - That boy is a m-m-monster, a monster, yeah, he ate my heart - that Quinn had somehow switched in when Valeriu's back was turned for five seconds.

What it was this time, he couldn't be sure. In the meantime, he tried not to worry, and took the brief moment of peace to catch a catnap on the couch before Quinn thundered into the home.  

[Kappawolf]

Quinn slammed open the door a few seconds after Vale laid on the couch.

It was a good thing Vale had been at the Carnegie's, because he was already pretty much there before he thought about calling.

"This is no time for napping, Valeriu!" It was serious, because he used his full name, "It is time for fashion!"

He opened up his messenger bag (which was proving to be a very good investment) And whipped out some folded bundles of cloth. He threw one at Vale. "Put this on."  

[Scroll]

Valeriu didn't even bat an eye when the door was flung open, muffling a sigh and staying in exactly the same position he'd been in before Quinn had intruded on his life.

If he didn't pay attention to it, the problem would go away.

"Do I v'ant to know v'hat you are babbling about?"

It didn't bode well. Neither did the clothes that smacked him in the face, effectively rousing the stubborn boy as he pulled the bundle to his chest, sitting up and inspecting the clothes with no small amount of confusion.

"V'hy?"

His head turned to frown at the other Godling.

"I do not play the role-playing games, Quinn," he said, quite seriously. "There v'ill be no harem-slave goings-on here. Or bad cops. Or jaguar-tamers."  

[Kappawolf]

Quinn looked confused. "What? No-- You've never even-- with anyone else-- where did you even hear about stuff like that? Who is poisoning your mind that isn't me?" He was seriously worried. "I will have to poison their everything."

"These are our outfits for working at the coffee shop, you idiot. And I finished our logo. And our 'OPENING SOON!' sign. I hung it up on the building I assume you already bought."

He had ordered it, after all, it must have happened.

"--Wait, Jaguar tamer? That sounds like fun. I'll have to design an outfit for that later." He was immediately whipping out a sketch pad and doodling. "I'll need, like, a little stool-- Oo, and I know what the legs will be."

All this work was really stimulating his artistic drive again. He liked getting back into being creative. He had felt useless for a long time.

"Dildos." He explained, to avoid any confusion. "The chair legs will be dildos."  

[Scroll]

"Murphy," he grunted, shortly, shrugging by way of explanation and refraining from elaborating further.

It was for the best if Quinn didn't know.

"Outfits?" he wondered aloud, unrolling the bundle of clothes. "V'hy v'ould I have an outfit? And it's not bought yet," he reminded, dryly. "V'on't be bought for a v'hile. And I am not even going to pretend I have any idea v'hat you are talking about."

Valeriu's worldly knowledge ended immediately at the precipice of role-playing.

"Maybe I need to study some more English vocabulary - v'hat in the v'orld?" The rising exclamation of confusion matched the perplexed look on his face as he observed the vest-like outfit he held in his hands.

"Quinn, this is too small. It is for a small child. I don't even know how this goes on! How do the buttons even v'ork on this?"

He'd never seen the like of it.

"This does not look like any sort of cafe v'aiter's uniform, or chef's uniform, that I have ever seen before."  

[Kappawolf]

"Well, then it's good you aren't a waiter or a chef, isn't it." He sighed. "Do I really have to dress you, or can you figure it out? Just be careful, don't rip it. I promise it will fit you, I have your measurements. And you don't work the buttons, that's the point."

It didn't matter how he got them, or when. Didn't matter at all.

"And you don't need to study any vocabulary. Nevermind." He tucked his sketchbook away, and began putting his on. He stripped immediately and unfolded his bundle, pulling it on over his ridiculously white skin.

"This is probably the most clothes I have worn in, like, a year. You are proud of me."

He nodded, firmly.

"Very proud. And you are proud that I made these in a night, because it took a tremendous amount of work and a very non-tremendous amount of sleep to make this happen." He had worked hard.

He was running on caffeine even more than usual, and did not want to hear Vale talk bad about his outfits.  

[Scroll]

Valeriu considered disobeying, very vehemently - but his mouth clicked shut at the guilt-trip. He grumbled to himself, but got up off the couch, neatly laying the complete outfit on the cushions so he had a better idea of where to start. It was mainly the top he was having trouble with, so he ignored it, for now.

"Of course I am proud of you," he muttered, pulling his jacket off and folding it neatly. "Sewing is very hard v'ork, and these are very-" Not work clothes. "-Professionally done."

Pants first. Those were easy. Classic slacks, not quite as loose as usual, and made of a thicker material that was pleasing to the touch, with interesting embroidery. Quinn had even had the foresight to-to--

"These are very low pants." Low enough that his tail, usually tucked into the leg of his jeans, easily cleared the waistband with a solid half an inch to spare. That was nice. But Valeriu was used to his pants sitting solidly at his waistline, not edging only halfway up his hips. Sure, he'd seen other guys easily wearing them like this out in public, but it was a tad indecent. The band of one's boxer-briefs was never meant to be seen.

He turned his sights, more dubiously, to the rest of the outfit. The shoes were nice, shiny, as classic as the pants themselves.

Finally, the vest. The big problem in his life, right now. Made of similar thick material, like the pants, similarly embroidered. He gave a disgruntled whine.

"V'here is the shirt for this?"

Because although it covered his upper chest nicely, the same could not be said for his abdomen.  

[Kappawolf]

"Thank you." He politely responded, taking a deep breath to push aside the words he was ready to scream at any sort of protest.

"They're regular pants, Vale. You're going to need cuter underwear, though." He eyed Vale's boxers with disdain. "Boxers. Cute."

He snorted when Vale mentioned the vest.

"That's all, Vale. That is your outfit. I was thinking about maybe a little hat, but I'm not positive." He shrugged. "But your ears add to the ambiance of the shop. I want people to leave wondering what's real and what isn't. Like, so they leave feeling like they've touched on another world they didn't even know was there." The only time he ever sounded remotely intelligent was when he was talking about design. "Lots of darker colors, but with a supernatural feel. And having your ears stick out, considering how shadowy and sneaky you are anyway, can make people question who or what you are, on the days you're hosting or just checking up." He nodded.

"And my feathers and such do a good job of making me look supernatural."  

[Scroll]

"Boxer-briefs," he corrected, loftily. "And they are nice enough." Quinn would not be changing up Valeriu's underclothes. Those were set in stone, and he would defend his right to choose them himself. To the death, if need be.

"I like the idea," he agreed, amiably, although the but was laced thickly in the undertones. "It v'ill be different, and v'ill help the shop stand out."

But-

"But-"

There it was.

"There are certain regulations for v'orking clothing," he reminded, gently, so as to not set off Quinn into a snitchfit. "The basic idea you have here is very nice-" Even if it made them both look like men for hire. "-but there are a few slight changes that can be made so v'e don't get in trouble, v'hile retaining your original intent." Especially if Valeriu ever had to actually show his face around the customers. He was going to fight for those extra inches of skin covering.

That said, he scrutinized Quinn's outfit, circling the other Godling in a predatory manner before slinking behind to hover barely an inch away.

Valeriu knew a thing or two about how to effectively argue with Quinn, now.

"For instance: your shorts." His tone was entirely professional, even as his hands brushed against the bare parts of Quinn's legs with nothing less than devious intent. "They are fetching, but local regulations require that anybody v'orking v'ith hot liquids should v'ear pants. For safety." If the way he purred the latter half of the sentence was any indication, Valeriu knew exactly what the double entendre was, even if his face gave nothing away as he circled back around to the front, crossing his arms.

"A few other changes on top of that, but nothing difficult for you, master cloth-v'orker. As for me-" He looked dubiously down at his outfit, plucking at the top. "These buttons and straps are just too complicated. I v'ill hurt myself, trying to put this on, and then v'here v'ill you be? Very sad. I like the vest v'ithout them." He liked the vest with a proper shirt, too, but that wasn't likely to be in his future. "I am just not sure if all this bareness is good on me." His ears twitched back, giving away the self-consciousness rising on his face.

Valeriu, for all his fine musculature, had made a mess out of his skin. Scars littered his arms and chest, most of them small and from simple scratches, but quite a few large and obvious ones that stood out stark and pale: the bite marks on his forearm; the long dagger wounds on the other; the burn on his shoulder and the cuts on his lower abdomen. Not to mention the long and drawn out series of claw marks on his back, all too visible in this outfit.

He shrugged, crossing his arms. "You know. Maybe a shirt v'ould look better, especially if I ever v'ill have to help you out v'ith serving the customers." Which he wouldn't. Probably. There was very little chance of their shop ever getting that popular in this area, and that was fine with him. A small but loyal base was very fine.  

[Kappawolf]

Quinn was chewing on his bottom lip, and his eyes were darting about the room nervously as Vale walked around him and told him how to fix his outfit. Every suggestion was like a knife stabbed through his creative soul, but he could bear it because of the innuendos and kind way of suggesting it. After Vale had stopped talking, he had to breathe a minute to relax, his eyes filled up with tears and his lip quivering.

"Fine!" He finally exploded, loudly, "Fine! I'll fix it! I'll fix it all! Take it off! Take it off right now and I will fix it so hard." He began tearing off his clothes and throwing them to the ground.

"Stupid, stupid--" The tears grew thicker in his eyes, and he bent over to start collecting the clothes.

Vale is only trying to help, he's only telling the truth--

Quinn forgot about the clothes and threw his arms up in the air, the articles fluttering back to the ground.

"I'm just going to make new ones. These are all terrible. I am an awful designer, and everything you said is right." He was wandering around in his underwear as he yelled all this out, and he eventually made himself back to Valeriu and dragged him by the collar to a couch in the room, sitting down on it and trying to tug Valeriu on top of him.

"I hate today and I hate me and I hate you and I need to sleep and-- kiss me!"

Quinn didn't function well without sleep.  

[Scroll]

It was a testament to how far Valeriu had come in his life that the sight of Quinn in tears - once something tragic and uncomfortable and ultimately able to drag him about by the nose - now only left him with pleasantly twitching lips that, failing, tried to suppress a smile.

He waited, patiently, arms crossed loosely against his stomach as Quinn flailed about, moving only when the man clutched at his collar and pulled (because if kitty did not feel like walking to the couch, kitty could not be moved for the world).

Chuckling, he more-than-agreeably caged Quinn between his arms and legs on the couch, though he refrained from giving into any of Quinn's other demands out of simple, coy malevolence.

"Can't take a little critique, suflețel?" he muttered, barely masking the amusement from his voice. "V'hile v'e are on the subject, let us talk about that logo of yours--"

Disturbingly, his Cheshire grin seemed to match Seamus and Murphy's almost exactly.  

[Kappawolf]

"I am not a soufflé!" Quinn grumbled. "I finished the logo. I have a trial flier in my bag." He flopped his arm dismissively. "And it's great, you'll love it." He leaned his head back against the couch, and stared up at Vale.

"I'm going to take a nap, now." He closed his eyes, but didn't switch positions, and didn't move. After a few seconds of this, he popped his eye open.

"Can we reposition, so I can lay down?" He weakly pushed at Vale's sides in the direction he wanted him to shift. "You can be my blanket." He yawned. "Ah juh-- I just need to rest. I'll feel better after that. 'Sides, we're not in a hurry."

He pushed a little more urgently.

"And critique is for people who aren't perfect."  

[Scroll]

"Scumpul meu, I did not call you a soufflé," Valeriu countered with smug ease, the foreign words rolling casually off his tongue in the exact manner meant solely to bemuse. "I v'ill be sure to see the flier you have made."

Quinn's prodding did not do much to shift Valeriu this time around, though after a minute of belligerent resistance he finally deigned to allow Quinn to move, sliding off and getting to his feet.

"I am not a blanket," he reminded, as if this was something that Quinn commonly forgot. "And it is you who is not in a hurry. I have many, many things to do." He took brief pity on Quinn, though; grunting, he retrieved a blanket out from the closet and deposited it upon the tired Godling.

"There is no such thing as perfect."

Lies. You need not look further than me to find it.

"I do it for your own good."

And for the sake of the shop.

"You sleep, and then keep v'orking on the outfits." Valeriu was a cruel slave-driver. "And do not give the Carnegies trouble v'hen they get back," he warned.