The first thing Micky knew was the pink tinted light streaming through his eyelids. This feels BLEEPING familiar thought Micky, if I’m in another alley I’m staying here. This is where I live now.
His head pounding Micky risked a gentle roll. Going at a glacial pace from flat on his back to a rough estimation of the recovery position. This is either a bag of trash or a mattress. Honestly I’m not sure which.
Cracking open one crusted eye he risked a look at his surroundings. Seeing the now familiar walls of his room in Ma Duke’s boarding house he sighed in relief. This compounded when his gaze fell upon the Vaixell, tucked safe and sound against the foot of the bed. Groaning in pain he slid his feet to the floor, then with a herculean effort he pulled his body into a sitting position. After what felt like a marathon but was in reality less than ten arthritic steps he made it to the shower. Fumbling with the control crystal as he undressed Micky tumbled into the shower. He avoided toppling over only by using both hand to brace himself against the shower wall.
Well, I made it home. How the BLEEP did I make it home? Finding no answer in the shower, he cast his thoughts back over the fragments of the night before. He had definitely had too many shots after that second set of songs. What the BLEEP was in that blue stuff? It had tasted like a combination of apple juice and cinnamon, but with the kick of overproof whisky. There had definitely been more singing. Both Ainsley and Barrett had introduced their own drinking songs, followed by further rounds of beer. Opal had then taught them a song with a rhythm none of them could keep up. Which was unsurprising given that keeping the harmony required percussion from both her tail and wings.
Somewhat refreshed, and with the pounding in his skull reduced to a throbbing ache, Micky emerged from the shower. Easing his headthrough the neck of the tunic with slow caution he resolved to visit the tailor today to collect the first of the custom requests.
Shambling his way down the stairs Micky picked each step with care. He attempted to minimize both the noise of his own footfalls and the impacts which shot through his body. Unfortunately Ma Duke seemed to have other plans. Perched on the edge of her chair at the table she greeted him with unabashed glee.
“Morning boy. How was your night?” Despite the friendliness of her works there was a bright spark of mischief in her eyes.
“ ’S fine” Micky mumbled in a hoarse croak.
“Celebrated your new class a little too hard did you?” Ma Duke asked while moving over to the kitchen and clattering pots and pans as she placed the kettle over the hob.
“Yeah, a little” he replied bringing his hands to his face. Massaging his temples seemed to ease the pain the discordant noises had sparked. “Did Opal make it home okay last night? I don’t remember exactly how I got back from the bar.”
Ma duke cackled with laughter before replying. “It’s a bit late to play the gentleman now boy. She carried you home over her shoulder like a sack of chula fruits, while you sung some fool song about elephants. Woke up the entire building you did.” The idea of the petite dragebarn physically carrying him seemed unlikely to Micky but before the could ponder it further a thought struck him.
“Oh BLEEP me dead, she said she had work today as well. Did she make it on time?” Micky asked with a grimace.
“That she did boy, I wouldn’t worry though, she made it on time. She was at the table for breakfast this morning cursing a blue streak and vowing never to drink again.
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“I know how she feels. I have no idea what that blue apple liquor was, but my head feels about three sizes too small this morning.”
“Have a mug of tea boy, it’ll help some” offered Ma Duke as she took the kettle off the hob and poured two mugs.
Several mugs of tea later Micky felt able to go about his day. Opening the door he stepped tentatively into Ma Dukes front yard, wincing at the bright light of the noonday sun. First the tailor, then to the TRC thought Micky. I’ve gotta talk to Blaes about this whole class thing.
The bexhobile tailor was hard at work on an evening gown when Micky walked in. Panels of blue and tulle cloth gathered in waves at waist of the dress, hanging below a silken bodice. All four arms of the young man moved at a rapid pace to assemble the garment.
As Micky approached the workbench the tailor looked up, sharp eyes fixing him with a baleful stare. “This sir” he gestured to the dress, “is the proper application of my skills. Not a shirt with ninety percent of its’ fabric cut away.”
Micky winced at the volume of the tailors protests before replying, “the dress is very beautiful, but I’m not sure it’s in my style.”
“I’m sure you are making some attempt at humor, but let me assure you that the fashionable comportment of a gentleman is no laughing matter. If you insist on claiming the garments that you ordered then I must ask that you tell no one I had a hand in creating them. I fear my reputation would not survive such a blow.”
Feeling more than a little attacked and in no mood to continue this discussion Micky reached for his coin purse. “I’m sure they will be fine, I’ll pay for them and get out of your hair.”
“Very well, wait here for a moment and I will fetch them for you” the tailor said before disappearing into the rear of the workshop. He emerged a few minutes later with a brown wax paper wrapped bundle tied with twine. “Please open this once you are a suitable distance from my store, or preferably, out of sight entirely.
Eager to conclude the transaction Micky passed over the agreed sum with a muttered “thanks” before turning to leave.
As he crossed through the doorway the tailor shouted at his retreating back. “The jacket will be finished in six days. That at least you may wear from the premises without shame.”
Walking back past Ma Duke with a smile and a wave Micky made his way back up the stairs to his room. Reaching the bed he carefully untied the twine holding parcel closed and peeled back the paper. These are perfect he thought, a smile crossing his features for the first time that day. There, in all their glory, lay seven perfectly fitted black tank tops. He whipped the tunic over his head before throwing it in the direction of the hamper with a careless lob. Singlet on and ready to face the day Micky thought, the grin still plastered on his face.
His great mood lasted almost exactly a minute as Ma Duke called out to him in passing.
“You’d better go see that tailor again boy, he seems to have given you less than half a shirt.”
“I’ll have you know this was the height of fashion in my ‘verse” Micky lied with a straight face.
Another hearty cackle was the only response Ma Duke gave as he continued his walk to the door.
Crossing the business district back to the TRC took a little longer without Tanya’s guidance. Micky took several wrong turns and was nearly persuaded to buy a rather nice rug, but eventually he made it through the bazaar and back to the elegant structures of the government district. A slow stroll later he made it the the broad plaza of the TRC and ambled towards reception.
As he approached the desk the receptionist greeted him with a wave. “Ah Mr Taylor wasn’t it?
“Nice to see you again Clarita” Micky said, offering a smile of his own. “I’m here to see Blaes if he’s available.”
“ Mr. Andrews? Certainly, let me just check if he is available.” She pulled what looked like a day planner from a desk draw and gave it a thorough examination. Finding what she had been searching for Clarita looked back to Micky, “You’re in luck Mr Taylor, he’s actually free now. If you’ll wait just a minute I’ll have someone lead you up to his office.”
“Ah, I appreciate it, thanks for your help.”
“Not a problem Mr Taylor, the TRC is here to help.”
After waiting for several minutes in the chairs to the side of reception Micky was led through the warren of hallways to Blaes’s office. After thanking his guide he knocked softly on the door. A few seconds later the door swung open to reveal Blaes, as fashionably dressed as even in a slim cut suit.
“Ah Micky, how good to see you again, please come in, I was just reading Tanya’s report.”