Both George and Sam could only squint at Craig where he stood, back hunched slightly as if to hide from their gazes. It wasn’t as though he was in civilian gear either, no, just beneath his floral-patterned shirt and light-brown khakis, one could clearly see the hard, modern armour pressing against the fabric. As if it couldn’t be any more obvious, it was also pretty clear that he wasn’t lugging around an oversized tennis-racket. He had his damn spear.

“This is-, haha, um.” Craig scratched behind his head, obviously flustered. “Look, you’re not supposed to see me, so may I just, like, leave?”

Cryptic, but the three siblings stepped to the side. Craig spent no time loitering about, and as soon as he was out of the store, he was (by the smell of it) ushered away from the main hallways and into a smaller store. There, he met a collection of other people, who all smelt like metal and sweat. Kreig chose not to inform his siblings of this, since they both seemed content with ignoring what had just happened.

Kreig just felt a bit sad that Craig’s arm had healed so nicely. No scraping bone-shards to be heard.

“...Okay, so,” George confidently wandered to the back of the store, “here. It’s a self-measuring station, although you can call for assistance if you require it. Since both I and Sam are at your disposal, that won’t be needed. Just step over here and we’ll do the rest.” Kreig listened intently and moved over to where George had directed him. All things considered, he wouldn’t need to do a thing.

And he didn’t. While Sam and George bickered over this and that, wrapping elastic rulers around his chest and midsection and hips, there was nothing he really had to do.

A familiar experience. It had been many years ago, but whenever he had armour to be forged or fine clothes to be tailored, he’d be measured in a similar capacity. Though, at that time, the ones doing it were usually either a worker or the tailor himself. He wished he could remember what his measurements had been back then, but it had most likely changed by now.

“...And as for height...” Sam placed the end of her elastic ruler at Kreig’s feet and tried to pull it to the very top. She was nowhere near tall enough to do this though, so she handed the end of it to Kreig, who understood the gesture well enough. With an arch of her back and a squint of the eye, she was able to get a good look at his height. “-Holy cow! 248 cm! Yeah, we’ll probably need to have a few things specially tailored…”

George silently nodded in agreement. Although Kreig wasn’t sure if having things ‘specially tailored’ would be a good or bad thing, he hoped his existence wouldn’t be too much of a plight for them.

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“I think I may know just the place,” George said.

Not one person out of the three questioned it. The rulers were put back in place, and they left the store without buying a single thing. It felt extremely rude to Kreig, but he figured it must be some Earth culture thing.

But it wasn’t that simple.

The second they stepped out of the mall, Sam must have noticed something, because she made a sound like a startled hare and ran off towards the fountain. Kreig could only barely make out how she enthusiastically greeted someone, and was greeted in return by one of them saying: “Why! If it isn’t the rookie! What’re you doing out here? And not dressed in gear, either?”

“Hey, I won’t be a rookie for long! And I’ve got the day off, so there’s no need for me to dress up at all. Though, aren’t you both in the Portal Fighting division? I don’t see any portal?” Sam said, peering about the square suspiciously.

One of the two officers, Kreig noticed now that he and George had gotten close enough, shrugged. “Nah, nah, we’re not here for that. This is more of a… crowd control kind of-,” the officer’s eyes fell on Kreig, “-aueGHh! That’s the-, why is-,” his eyes flared wide, both of them focusing way too much on Kreig. He felt far too seen. And once one of the officers pointed him out, the other noticed him as well.

“Oh. Oh sh-, Sam, sorry, we gotta go,” he said, taking a hold of the other officer’s arm and pulling him away. In a matter of seconds, they were gone, lost in the crowd.

“That’s kinda weird…” Sam said. “Oh, no, wait, I get it. It isn’t that weird. I think. Uh, let’s not talk about it! George, where are we going?”

George was still reeling from what just happened, but he was still able to muster a response. “We-, uh. I imagined something like this might happen, so I scouted out a nearby store that takes orders for strange clothes. Just down the street.” Since Sam gave a thumbs-up, this was accepted. They continued walking. And yet, there was a sour taste in Kreig’s mouth. If he took the time to smell for it, he could tell that those two officers hadn’t left at all, merely reclaimed some distance.

Even more so, Craig was also about. At a safe distance, together with other people who smelled like that. If Kreig really looked for them, he could tell that there were about twenty, thirty such people prowling about. And that was just the nearest vicinity.

There was something off here, but since both George and Sam had decided not to consider it too deeply… They must also know about it. And since Kreig was the only one not in-the-know, it must be about him. Not an attack, not anything like that. Just… surveillance? Of him. Despite the fact that he’d never hurt his siblings. And he’d thought he’d gained their trust, too. ‘You’re free,’ Darius had said.

Perhaps so, but not entirely. Then again, he had never been truly free these past 130 years.

“Alright, we’re here.”

Since Kreig had nothing to say on what might look best on him, he fully allowed his brother and sister to decide for him. George seemed to argue for the modest, meaning that Kreig would clearly look best in a fine suit and an ironed shirt. Sam (who had no fashion sense), on the other hand, meant that the more colours, the better. She was wrong. In the end, the sensibly flustered shopkeep could only try to make some sort of peace between them by asking Kreig himself what he wanted to wear.

Since Kreig became silent as a rock at the mere mention of deciding what to wear for himself, the shopkeep must have assumed he was either mute or deaf or both. Either way, the responsibility returned to Sam and George.

A decision was made. 50/50 casual and formal and Kreig himself would choose what to wear on a daily basis.

And then, with the clothes done and ordered, they left the shop.