Ah, evenings. The transitory period between work-filled afternoons and the quiet respite of nighttime for an unmarried working-class citizen like myself. It is during this time that I usually find myself back at home, relaxing on my bed with stacks of unlaundered clothes as pillows and back pains because I slept in the wrong position the previous night, before begrudgingly getting up to feed my body with whatever my past self decided to leave for me - inevitably ignoring the chance to use the healthy ingredients I've been telling myself I'd fit into my regular diet and instead resigning myself to some microwaved delights courtesy of the frigid reaches of my freezer. So why was it not the dark and lifeless walls of my humble abode before my tired eyes? But instead, fields of green blades and hillsides painted orange by the steadily sinking blazing orb over the horizon?

"Are we getting paid for working overtime?" I asked with my head against the window, my hand covering my mouth as I yawned after speaking.

"Seeing as we were the ones to propose the plan, we're in no place to be asking for anything extra," Myla said as her amber eyes, which blended perfectly with the hues of the scenery, focused ahead, showing little care for my complaints.

"Still," She unexpectedly continued, "I'm not exactly keen on working up until night either. Even more so because of our assignment ahead." My dear partner remarked as her still optics faltered for a moment and displayed a flicker of weariness.

I guess we're in the same boat there.

Myla and I would usually be separated by now, a cordial farewell with little repartee as we both longed for rest. Due to that, appointments that had us work up to night felt somewhat unusual but refreshing. It was like seeing a classmate outside of school and having to interact with them without the context or aid of your usual space.

I never had to do that, though. Avoiding eye contact is one of the skills I honed like a blade during class; after all,

As I reminisced on days past, I decided to lighten the somewhat awkward air I found us in.

"Well, at least we're working at an actual party, so that softens the blow. Oh, could it be you're more worried about your super-serious office lady facade melting at night?" I joked, earning a rueful sigh from the already exasperated woman.

"If only I had your optimism. To be able to call your character a mere front is quite the dream."

Ouch. At least she said my optimism was a good thing. See, even now, I'm still being optimistic. Go me!

And with a short chuckle at our exchange, I felt as though I was able to relax. It still worried me, after all, the job we had awaiting us. Perhaps it was because of my doubts about the plan or the questions I found myself asking a few days ago regarding our handiwork.

Or maybe I just don't wanna have to socialize with a bunch of upper-class middle-aged men and their suspiciously young mistresses.

Whatever the case was - I wasn't perfectly confident in myself and the map we'd lined up. But at the very least, hearing my dear partner's familiar voice with an expected counter-quip gave me a bit of solace.

"Ah, we're here." That very same voice interrupted my thoughts as the car halted to a stop on the elevated parking lot overlooking the sea. On the bright side, I was wearing my seatbelt, and my body had gotten used to the sudden change in inertia, meaning I was a-okay.

Yep, not dizzy in the slightest from my brain impacting my skull all of a sudden.

And with a disgruntled glare toward my dear partner, who had already exited the vehicle. I opened the door to be welcomed by the panoramic view of the sun-kissed shoreline.

"Would you look at that? Here I thought it couldn't get prettier." I said as I placed my hands on the metal railings of the parking space to gaze at the sight. The sky looked as though an artist's palette of pastel dyes. Bright blues now shone with warm pinks, while clouds took on a shade of relaxing purples. The sun, which looked as though it was floating on the ocean's edge, blazed like a hot iron sphere painting the heavens around it a brilliant orange along with the long stretch of sun glitter it formed upon the calm waves. Gusts of calm wind accompanied the sight, coming from my back and returning to the ocean as if being called back to return to the sea by forces unknown. I was snapped out of my trance when I heard light footsteps traveling on the gravel path below me.

"Save the sightseeing for now. We have a client waiting for us." Myla said as she looked up from the sandy shores, the beach, and her ash-gray hair coated with the shades of fire.

"Come on, stop and smell the roses! Or, in this case, taste the sea-salted air!" I shouted with an enthusiasm that did nothing more than cause my dear partner to place two fingers on her forehead.

"I'd rather not. The sight brings back unpleasant memories."

"That was months ago! Besides, you were the one who suddenly pressed the brakes back then."

"And you were the one who suggested you ride on the back pegs of the bicycle."

"To which, against your better judgment, you obliged." And with an annoyed exhale, Myla conceded the match. I climbed down, carrying a smug look, and followed her towards the siren's dwelling.

"There's a dress code we have to follow? Right? Something like a modern vintage or Victorian." I asked, bringing up one of the requirements for our entry to the event.

"Indeed, unfortunately, we had no appropriately fitting clothes in our office's catalog."

"I'm still surprised we even have storage for those kinds of things."

"Going to events requiring suits, dresses, and even costumes is a common occurrence for surveyors. I once had to wear a clown costume, as regrettable as it is to remember." Myla said with a sigh, which I couldn't see as she faced ahead.

"Thank God there were absolutely no pictures of that event saved in any way, shape, or form by any associating parties who were with you during the time it took place,"

"What was that?" My dear partner asked as her pace ceased for a moment, and she faced me with a cold scowl. I turned away in fear and began humming, hoping she'd forgive Alexandre and me for our hubris.

Look. Just be happy the internet doesn't get to see that image.

Pardoning my sins, Myla cleared her throat and began walking forward again.

"As we discussed, Lily shall provide us with the proper apparel. I sent in our measurements yesterday, so fitting shouldn't be an issue." I audibly gasped in response to one of her remarks.

"You have my measurements? Are you stalking me? What else do you know? Who's paying you? And how and what did you find out about my basement?"

"Please, I am comfortable with you taking no more space in my mind than an ant. The measurements came from when we received our uniforms." My dear partner replied coldly, not wanting to answer any of my burning questions about her ulterior motives. We continued on the path, with me now slightly more cautious of Myla's presence, until we reached the large residence of our silent client. We climbed up the maple steps, entering the empty patio and seeing the darkening skies and ocean waves once more, beckoning me to stare for longer. But with an audible ring emanating through the faint breeze surrounding me, I turned and stepped to the front door where Myla awaited our client. I shook my head and slapped myself with both hands to prepare for our meeting, but nothing I could've done would have prepared me for the divine image that appeared before my worldly eyes. Beauty is subjective, but that doesn't mean we aren't allowed to take a systematic approach here. So let's start from the bottom. The beautiful young woman fancied a long black ball gown carrying many layers ending in a sharp red, drifting, almost breathing fabric. On her torso was a similarly night-black corset, engraved with silver buttons and red strings, hugging her slim but elegant figure tightly and contrasting with the sweeping cloth of her dress. Covering her chest was a spotless white blouse adorned with glossy buttons and a scarf bowtie, as well as long sleeves tied at specific segments, each with ruffles that danced along her arms. Finally, her neck held an exquisite but incredibly simple choker, which matched the metallic accents of her ensemble. Her face glowed in the sunlight, not covered in any discernable makeup but was naturally charming with no equal. And as the proverbial cherry on top, a red bonnet sat atop her black curls decorated with colorful feathers of darker hues.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Okay, give me a second to breathe that took a while to process and describe. I'm getting too old for this.

I was utterly floored. These past few days, Lily had captivated me to no end. And this time, even with my unending box of adjectives and superlatives - I had no words. Silence overcame the scene as I stood there stunned.

Just say the first thing that comes to mind.

"A-are those real?" I asked in reference to the last thing I observed of Lily's outfit, the hat and the colorful assortment of feathers adorning it. However, as I waited for my answer, I felt a nudge on my side as I saw Myla angrily looking at me.

"What in God's name are you asking? Have some common decency." I wondered what she meant for but a second before the realization hit me, and I turned to an equally surprised Lily.

"No, no, I meant the hat! Look, there are lots of laws regarding animal-based apparel around here, y'know? And birds especially can be easy targets for poaching, so I was just worried about Lily's credibility. You know how sensitive people are nowadays about that sort of thing. Plus, if not her, what about the company she represents. Who knows what could've happened if I didn't ask, right? Right?" I rapid fired some counterarguments at my dear partner, who held her look of daggers firmly on me until the young woman spoke up.

"Ah, I see." She said before taking off the hat. "I am sorry young parakeet. I did not know you died on unjust terms." She continued with an unexpectedly somber reply as she held the hat in front of her. Myla and I faced each other, wondering if the bonnet was actually made of real feathers before Lily said oh, in a whispered voice and said,

"Was that not funny? I was told I should try making jokes and be the silent but comedic type by my coworkers."

Are you being bullied where you work?

I thought to myself before giving a forced laugh and replying.

"We can talk about that later. For now, we have to get dressed." Lily gave a quick nod before she opened the door and allowed us in. We entered the living room - which had an overhead chandelier filling the space with yellow light and shining upon the surrounding maple furnishings.

"Your outfit is on the couch, and the bathroom is the white door in the kitchen. I will help Myla with her attire in our room. Please excuse us for a moment. I waved goodbye to the pair, their taciturn and reserved expressions merging together as they entered the room.

What, no quip about threatening me if I dare try to peek? Where're my clichés, dammit.

I picked up the stack of clothes and stepped into the contrastingly white-tiled bathroom. I took off my uniform and slipped into the provided getup. It was a fairly simple formal outfit consisting of a white dress shirt, black pants, and shallow neck vest, with the highlight being the tuxedo which had a long tail. Ordinary as it was, the fabric, the fit, and the many cufflinks and studs I'd yet to add on were a testament to its quality, as expected from someone with ties to an actual modeling company.

I haven't worn one of these since my wedding.

As I laughed at those memories which fluttered by - I affixed the last of the accessories onto my outfit. And with a glance at the mirror and a brush to my hair, I was ready.

Looking striking as ever.

I told myself as I opened the door to the sight of my dear partner clad in a strikingly white getup bearing a deliberate disparity with my almost completely black garments. The base was the same, a white dress shirt, long black pants, and the signature bowtie, with a similarly black vest with a deep and narrow v-neck. The star of the show, however, was the jacket she wore. It resembled a small tailcoat - the refined white article was long and sleek, with the fabric lining the inside being jet black along with the large buttons beside them. It was graceful but also composed, fitting her slender figure and a perfect representation of the wearer's own aura. And with a quick twirl for our voiceless siren, Myla finally realized my presence.

"Well then, I always knew you'd look good in a suit."

"It's not just a suit. It's some sort of tailleur." She replied, using a handheld mirror to observe herself.

It's in French so it must be fashionable.

"Whatever it is, you'd make for one hell of a Spy Movie's antagonist." A strange compliment, yes, but one that communicated the cold classiness she both literally and metaphorically wore on her sleeve.

"Is that so? You look like a sideshow magician trying to make ends meet." I flinched slightly at her response, not expecting such a fast reply while she was preoccupied with her makeup and hair.

And for my next trick, I shall make that negative comment disappear from my conscience.

"Speaking of, I thought you told me you would shave for the occasion?" My dear partner asked as she began tying her hair up, to which Lily silently offered to help.

"I did, though. At least a little."

"It's still there."

"It's called a stubble."

"It detracts from the overall outfit."

"It's part of my character, woman."

If that disappears, I'll look even more like a basic stereotypical white dude.

While we bantered on, Lily gave us a faint but melodic laugh, covering her mouth with a gloved hand as she did.

"You look almost like a princess with that," I said as I stepped closer to the pair and took a seat.

"Yes, now all that's left is to get her to socialize like one," Myla interjected as she opened her eyes to her now-done hair. The earlier long flowing strands of silver thread bundled up into a small, spherical bun, with a few rebellious strings jutting outwards to give a casual twist to her dignified air. Lily turned her head to the side a bit, to which Myla gave a few nods, and the two got up, ready.

Dear God, they can communicate telepathically. I knew they were of the same kin.

I joked to myself before opening the door for the two - an indigo pigment now dominating the heavens as I exited the abode. I strolled further into the patio and placed my arms on the railings to appreciate the tranquil scene. It was only the ocean waves filling my ears when footsteps on wood soon followed.

"These outfits are great, by the way," I said to the pair behind me.

"Undoubtedly so. We do apologize for having to get them on such short notice." Myla followed up on my remark.

"Ah, it's alright. My colleagues seemed quite happy when they heard the news, actually." The young woman replied with a hint of repressed joy in her voice. Perhaps the delight her coworkers felt hearing about her next venture made its way to her.

"It seems you like your job. I always thought you took it up cause it was convenient." I said, turning my view from the skies to the two.

"I came to enjoy it more for the people I worked with. Their intentions were always clear. And even if they only accommodated me to make their jobs easier, it was comforting knowing that." She replied as we made our way to the start of the stairs to make our way down.

"And even if I remained quiet, my looks were all I needed to communicate what was necessary." She continued, holding up a bit of her dress as we walked down the steps.

"You and Nash are quite compatible. He made similar statements regarding his own profession a few days ago." My dear partner added as I reached the foot of the staircase - my feet landing on the gravel path.

"I'm glad to hear that come from the both of you," Lily replied with a smile that from my low view, looked as though the sun had returned to the nighttime sky.

"Trust me. She says that to everyone." I said jokingly as a disappointed Myla joined me at the bottom of the stairs. It seemed another line of banter was about to start when we realized the footsteps had gone quiet. We turned and saw a rather flustered Lily looking at the ground and back to herself a few times before looking up to face us.

"I can't quite lift up the dress fully. And the ground is no place for the black fabric. I didn't quite think this through." And with that, our chaperoning was soon to begin.