Clutter has a girlfriend. Somehow, that thought hadn’t crossed my mind even once ever since I first met him. But… well… I guess some women could be into his specific brand of… ‘charm’. Honestly, the guy just feels too much like a golden retriever for me to imagine him being in any kind of a relationship–so… good for him, I guess?
He frowns and his tail droops to the ground. “You don’t think it’s a good plan?”
I snort and shake my head. “Somehow, Clutter, that wasn’t even close to what I was thinking. Is your girlfriend okay with loaning her clothes to a random woman she hasn’t even met?”
“Of course she is! She’s a really nice person.” He says very, very confidently.
“Clutter… you did ask her, right?”
“Oh, pfft, of course I did. That'd be a real jerk move if I just came here expecting her to agree to something. Here, let me show you…” He takes out his Class Card and turns it towards me. I catch the smallest glimpse of… something, before he blushes furiously and pulls away. “oh, oh, um, no, not that, that’s not for you to see… ha ha ha… um… can you please forget you ever saw that?”
I blink heavily and try to put the words ‘leash and collar’ out of my mind. Like, forever. Unfortunately, my increased Mind stat doesn’t really vibe with the whole ‘choosing to forget’ things, so I’m stuck with that one text and the images it brings up for the rest of my damn life.
“I’m trying, Clutter. I’m really trying here.” I mutter to myself as Pearl cackles away in my brain. “Let’s just… wait, aren’t we forgetting something?”
Clutter and Illumisia both tilt their heads at the exact same time. Then Illumisia growls and shifts to a chin-raise and questioning glance just to be different.
“What could we be forgetting?” She asks. “Was there a part of your story that you forget to tell?”
I cross my arms and furrow my brow. “No, it’s not that. There’s… oh, shit, didn’t we have a hostage?!”
Illumisia snorts and rolls her eyes. “I am not incompetent. The hostage is with the old woman at this very moment, and she is working on extracting information from her in… less lethal ways than I would have been able to.”
“And you were planning on telling me this when…?”
“When I remembered to. Or when we returned to the bath house for the evening.” Illumisia says without a shred of an apology. “She will be alive when we return, I can assure you that. Though whether she will be willing to talk or not is another question altogether.”
I tap my foot impatiently as Clutter stares at me. There’s definitely something off about me right now–that should’ve been my first thought when we got back and I didn’t see a body on Illumisia’s back. But it took me until now to even think about it. Is that still my skill railroading me down this path? Does that mean the wannabe assassin isn't important to finding the quest at all?
The sound of a sliding door opening and a shadow on a balcony steals my attention away. I crane my neck upwards to get a good look at the woman who just walked out, and… uh… let’s just say she’s not the kind of person I imagined Clutter going out with. Not just because she’s got black eyeliner, black lipstick, a piercing in almost all of her facial features, and a scowl etched onto her face. All framed with greasy black hair that could just as easily be a style choice or the product of multiple weeks without washing it.
It’s also because she’s human. She raises an arm to wave at Clutter, showing off a full sleeve of very witch-y tattoos and a pair of skull rings. He smiles brightly and waves right back, to which the corner of her mouth just barely twitches in response.
“Doors should be open. Clutter knows the way.” She says, then turns away and walks back into her apartment.
Clutter hurries to the doors and throws both of them open. “Come on! If we want to be in and out, we need to move quickly!”
“Uh… yeah.” I say slowly and follow Clutter into the stone building. “Are you sure she has high-class clothes that’ll fit me? Because her stuff doesn’t really look like… how should I put it… my style.”
“Oh, pfft, don’t worry about that. Dell has tons of clothes–her Class needs her to!” Clutter says as he beelines for a stairwell and starts running up it. “She’s an enchanter, and she won’t admit it to you, but she really loves making clothes. Apparently she apprenticed to a really strong woman a while ago whose name I don’t remember at all, and that’s what got her so into it!”
His voice carries all the way through the stairwell, so even though I’m a floor behind him, I can hear him perfectly. Illumisia grumbles to herself as her claws click against the stairs, her form just a little too big to comfortably fit in the stairwell. But instead of just shrinking a little, she soldiers on for absolutely no reason.
After a few more stairs, I almost run into Clutter at the top of a flight. He smiles and waves me on, runs down the hallway, and stops right before a door that’s already open a crack. With fidgety patience he stares at my normal-paced walk, and by the time I’m at the door with him, it looks like he’s going to burst out of his fur and bolt into the apartment.
Before he can do that, Dell opens the door and locks eyes with me. Her gaze wanders all the way down to my feet, then up once more to my hips, where it lingers for a little longer than I’m comfortable with. After that she brazenly stares at my chest for a good ten seconds, nods to herself, and steps aside to let us in.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Clutter zips in right away. I, however, stand right outside, making my discomfort as plainly known as possible. Dell just blinks at me, her face unchanging and showing absolutely no signs of recognizing what she did.
“Sorry. It’s a force of habit.” She… apologizes? “It’s just that whoever designed your clothes did a damn good job of fitting them to you. You show them off just as well as they show you off.”
I scrunch my nose, still not quite sure what to say. “You just stared at my chest for ten seconds. Not, like, reading something that’s on them, either–this was hardcore staring.”
“Like I said, sorry. Clutter said you needed clothes, so I need to know your size. It just so happens that the chest and hips are a little more work for women’s clothes. I… ah, damn my face. Makes it really hard to come across as sincere when you’ve got one expression and one tone of voice.”
She reaches up and lightly smacks her cheeks. “Just… come in and take a shower. I seriously didn’t mean to creep you out.”
“I… think she means it.” Pearl says slowly. “This is really weird. I thought all humans were as expressive as you, Noland, Ursula, March, Gil… well, you get it.”
I force a small smile, showing just a little teeth. “Must be hard getting customers.”
“You don’t know half of it.” She chuckles mirthlessly. “Here I thought Clutter was bringing me one, but apparently this is just a favor–no magic involved. Well, at least my clothes will get to be worn by a badass like you.”
“Aw, flattery. I’ll take it.” I smile wider, and Dell’s eyes widen just a little at the show of teeth. “Thanks for helping us. Just… try not to stare at your customers’ breasts next time.”
She nods. “Yes. Of course. I won’t. The shower’s at the end of that hall on the right. Leave your clothes outside and I’ll put them in the wash.”
I… can’t tell if I’m intimidating her or accidentally flirting with her. Neither her face nor her body language shows much of anything, and before I can ask, she walks off and joins Clutter in the kitchen. They start to talk, him as vibrant as can be with his tail wagging nonstop, and her completely nonchalant with eyes that look half-lidded from boredom.
It’s definitely a start contrast. But hey, if they’re happy together, then who am I to judge? I chuckle to myself and walk to the door she pointed out, posters of band merch and fashion magazine covers taking up equal space on the stone walls, and pull on the handle. The bathroom door creaks open to reveal a jet-black shower curtain, black towels, a black porcelain toilet, and a bunch of black cosmetics.
“Definitely feels like her bathroom.” I note as I shrug off my clothes, set Fleur’s brooch on the counter, and drop the rest into the hallway before shutting the door behind me. “Nice of her to let us use it, that’s for sure. I’m not sure I’d be so trusting if my partner rolled up with a random girl and asked to use my shower.”
“She trusts Clutter a lot. Well… actually… I don’t know if ‘trust’ is the right word.” Pearl says with a smile. “They’re absolutely infatuated with each other. She’s just really bad at showing it.”
Aw, that’s adorable. With the thought of Clutter and his goth girlfriend being all lovey-dovey at the forefront of my mind, I pull back the shower curtain and set the water running. After a few seconds to let it get hot enough, I step in and pull the curtain shut behind me. The black fabric blocks more than a little of the light, and I have to squint to find the soap–which is, unsurprisingly, also black.
I stare at the chunk of soap as the water cascades over my shoulders. This might take a little more effort than I anticipated.
----------------------------------------
Midnight black fluff fills my face and scrubs my skin as I work like hell to get all the water and sticky soap scum off of my body. Whatever was in that soap was not completely water soluble–even though it smelled amazing and felt like champagne on my skin. At least it looks like it’s coming off on the towel. And… well… staining it with a slightly different shade of black than the towel itself.
Once I’m certain I’ve gotten as much of the soap off as I can, I hook the towel over the shower bar and look around for something else to wear. There’s a robe on the door, right next to another robe that looks like it’d fit someone that’s about four-foot ten. The smaller one’s definitely Dell’s, which means the bigger one is Clutter’s. Or a guest’s.
Or mine. Yoink.
I quickly pull on my underwear and slip on the robe. The material’s softer than the towel, and it has a slightly cool feel against my warm skin. Feels pretty damn nice if I do say so myself. I make sure the sash around the center is tied, smooth it out, and pull open the door.
Clutter’s face appears an inch from mine. He yelps in surprise, his hand hovering in a knock-ready fist that he whips back with the force of an inverse punch.
“I was about to knock! I’m sorry!” He apologizes. “Are you done?”
I nod and step out of the door. “Go ahead.”
He bows a little. “Thank you!”
I smirk at the little blush on his cheeks, accented by a bunch of black kiss marks. He laughs guiltily and ducks into the room before I can comment on all of them, and the lock clicks shut behind him.
“Adorable.” I chuckle and shake my head. “Wonder how far they went while I was in there.”
“I have the answer.” Pearl grumbles. “It made me retract my awareness.”
So pretty damn far, got it. I stick my hands into the robe’s pockets and walk out into the living room, where the sounds of a sewing machine rhythmically thunk out from a closed door. There’s no sign of my clothes anywhere, so Dell must’ve thrown them in the wash already. Well, I might as well try to get to know her a little better–a friend of Clutter could be a friend of mine.
I rap my knuckles against the door.
“It’s open.” Dell states.
That’s an invitation, I guess. I grab the knob, twist it, and push the door into a room that’s absolutely cluttered with fabrics, thread, machines, and half-finished clothes sitting on well-labeled sections of a long workbench. Dell has her back turned to me, working away at a sewing machine that hums with magic as a piece of fabric slides through it like butter.
“Hey. Sorry again about earlier.” She says without turning around. “I’ll be done in half an hour thanks to my spells. Just sit tight until then.”
I open my mouth to say something, but before the words come out, my eyes fall on something. And when I notice it, it’s all I can see; it’s on the boxes, on the tags, and even on the order slips. The Preservation’s logo is impossible to misunderstand.