Albaer looked at the succubus and scratched his sandy hair, he cocked his head, opened his mouth to speak, then thought the better of it and cleared his throat as soon as the demoness's sister came into view.

"Why are you looking at me so strangely?" Raziel asked, "You told my sister and I we should buy clothing... and we have."

The red skinned succubus put her hands on her hips, she'd gone full 'goth girl' minus the make up. Her sister, a golden haired and pale angel, was wearing a plaid skirt and white shirt. Even without looking, he knew 'exactly' where they'd shopped.

"Raziel, Lialah, when you were exploring the stores for clothes... ah... what keywords did you use?"

"Clothes for demon girls, of course." Raziel said with a fangy smile spread over her face. "It turned out that there was a store called 'Goth Topic' which specialized in just the sorts of things I'd wear. Strangely enough, they also had clothes suitable for an angel... or so my sister insists that it was for." She waved a hand over at the white winged angel who moved to stand a little behind her sister.

"Did we... do something we shouldn't have? Is there something wrong with our clothing?" Lialah asked, "I thought it was strange that humans would have a place to sell clothing for... people, who don't exist here but... is this wrong?" The angel girl's soft voice was filled with worry and she began to pick at the skirt and glance at it as if searching for defects.

'So, that explains the Catholic schoolgirl outfit, and... the black miniskirt, mesh top, spiked wrist bracelets, fighter cap... everything... great... this... is going to be awkward.' Albaer thought and dragged his hand over his face from forehead to chin. "I'm sorry, I really should have checked what you were buying... those aren't exactly school clothes"

"But..." Lialah insisted, "The site said this was a Catholic Schoolgirl outfit! It said so, I swear!" She insisted, putting a hand over her white shirt at the chest and looking increasingly worried.

"Yes... if you go to a Catholic School... for anyone else... it's basically perv bait." Albaer said and immediately regretted it when she straightened up and gasped.

Raziel frowned, she straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest. "And mine?"

"Different perv but kind of the same thing... not really what I had in mind with school clothes... this is my fault... I'm... I'm sorry." Albaer sat on his bed and looked down at his carpeted floor. "It just didn't occur to me to make sure you knew what you were doing, how could you know anything about my world... Listen, you can borrow some of my old clothes, it's not great, just some old ripped jeans, baggy shirts, but it'll do for today."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The two stared at him for a long moment of time before the demoness chose to speak for herself and her sister. "Don't worry about it... misunderstandings happen. But ah..." The demoness took the hat off her head and cocked her head down at it, then looked at herself in the mirror and flashed herself a smile, "Can we keep this stuff?"

Albaer threw back his head and laughed, falling back with his arms open on the bed, his laughter, rare as it was, was deep and rich and it was quickly joined by the uncommon duo. "Yeah, fine, I'm still not fired from work... I'll pull a few extra overtime hours and pick some suitable things up for you afterward. Trust me, neither of you wants to be seen around this town in those clothes."

He got up and left the room, leading the pair with him down to the basement, he pulled the string secured to the dangling overhead light, their shadows danced back and forth on the walls as they descended over the creaking old wooden steps, and he went straight to a large rubber bin.

"These aren't great..." He added without looking over his shoulder at the pair and then popped the top off the large blue bin and rummaged around. "But they'll do." He reiterated and pulled out a pair of jeans for each, then handed them back, then a pair of shirts, simple plain black and plain blue fabric.

"Albaer?" Lialah asked while she looked down at the clothes he handed to her, and then traded a glance with her red eyed sister. Raziel said nothing, but the hardened red gleam said plenty.

"There's... a lot of blood on these." Lialah finally said.

"That's why they're here." Albaer said and put the top back on the bin. "I use the clean parts of things in here to make patches for the others, don't worry, the blood is mine, and on those, it's mostly on the lower legs, just cut the jeans off above the knee, instant jean shorts, perfect for this weather. Just use your magic to pull the blood off the fabric to clean the shirts, and no more problems, it's all clean..."

Albaer was rambling, his voice picking up speed and pitch. "Come on, hurry up and get changed, get your illusions ready and-"

Raziel put a hand on his shoulder, he stopped speaking and glanced down at the sharp talon tipped fingers. "Albaer... how long has this been going on... the truth... who did all this...?"

Albaer blinked rapidly several times before closing his eyes, taking a breath, and turning away from her. "Come on, do you think I keep track? It doesn't matter, just hurry up and go get changed. If you want to learn about human society, one of the first things you should know is that we live and die by clocks, we don't want to be late."

He then strode away before either the angel or the demon could properly process things, they looked down at the rust colored marks of blood and the tears which still bore snag marks from where they'd been dragged, and the pair swallowed hard. "This may be harder than I thought..." Lialah mouthed the words to her sister, and at them, the Demoness nodded.

"Maybe so... we've got a lot to make sense of, and I don't think we're going to like it..." The demoness answered.

"Hey, make it quick! We're walking, so we need to be gone in the next ten minutes!" Albaer called from upstairs as if nothing were wrong, and after one brief second of reticence, the pair went for the stairs.

“Did you find anything?” Lialah asked with a whisper in her own language so small she was sure that Albaer couldn’t possibly have heard it.

Raziel gave a tiny nod and answered in the language of her race, “Yes. Psychic powers seem to exist here so I scheduled an automated appointment with one…” Lialah looked briefly confused, cocking her head to one side, until Raziel clarified, “like a magic assistant… I think. Anyway, they’re going to reach out to me and we can try to talk to his mother’s ghost… but we do need money… a bunch.”

“Power costs money.” Lialah whispered in her tongue with a shrug, and they were quiet, lost in their private hopes and reflections as they modified Albaer’s old clothes and changed into them at last.