ic Life's Parade of Fashion

[Gizmo]

"Need to restructure the frame," Trevor replied absently. "Aluminum and carbon, probably. Detachable panels for the glider; drop off to lessen the load when it unfurls." He illustrated the point via hand gestures before looking over at the young woman driving the truck. "...you were joking. Obviously." His uncanny deadpan made it extremely difficult to tell whether he'd honestly misunderstood or if he was simply pulling her leg.

[Electra]

She raised both eyebrows. "I wasn't actually aware that it was possible to turn a truck into a hang glider," she admitted. "It might be something to think about, but an aluminum and carbon frame would be less sturdy, and I need sturdy even more. You never know what you might end up driving into, or when you're going to need to go offroad. Now if you were really going to go in and rework the frame, would it be possible to reinforce the whole thing, the way they do for the president's cars and stuff?"

[Gizmo]

Trevor shrugged. "Sure. Reinforcing is easy. Lose some speed, maneuverability." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Solve some of that with carbon nanotube, if you're not worried about conducting heat. Thin layer of insulation, maybe." The lanky youth snorted as he tilted his head to one side slightly. "Could use ADNRs if you could find it. Be more worried about the suspension at that point." The frame of the truck could be as hard as one liked, but if the vehicle's moving parts gave up after one collision, it wouldn't do the driver much good.

[Electra]

"Well, it sounds promising, but I don't really know what most of that means," Erin admitted, glancing over at him as they drove. Trevor spent most of the ride explaining exactly how he would go about reinforcing the truck, some of which sounded like it had come straight out of a science fiction movie, but he seemed confident about it. Erin had seen way too much weird tech in the past year to discount anything out of hand. He had a nice voice, she realized, and figured that this was probably the most she'd heard him talk about anything in one chunk. By the time she had even a sort-of handle on what he was suggesting, they were nearly there.

[Gizmo]

"Just over here," Trevor indicated as they neared Frank's shop. The neighbourhood was mostly made of older buildings, none more than two or three storeys tall. A peeling, hand lettered sign marked a green grocer, next to a lazily spinning barber's pole and a deli with it's door propped open to let in the day's warm breeze. There were plenty of parking spaces open up and down the street, and the dark haired teen directed Erin to one in front of a little shop with suit wearing mannequins in the windows. A small wooden sign hung outside the door, simply reading 'Tailor'.

[Electra]

Erin took a good look around as she got out of the car, getting the lay of the land. She'd never been to this particular part of Freedom City before, either in this world or the last. It seemed nice enough, even if there were a few more places for things to hide than she was entirely comfortable with. Coming around the side of the car, she met up with Trevor just outside the shop. "Well, here goes nothing," she said with a crooked smile. "If he chases me out of the shop with a broom, I'm going to Goodwill next."

[Gizmo]

With a faint smile, Trevor stepped forward to open the shop's door, setting a trio of bells hung from the top of the frame chiming as the bounced back and forth. Inside was a modest room, with most of the illumination coming from the front widows. Suit jackets hung from racks along one wall while neatly folder dress shirts and ties rested on a pair of long wooden tables. A collection of mirrors toward the far end gave the impression of more space than there truly was, while brightening the shop with reflected natural light.

A heavyset man in his mid seventies sat in a wicker chair next to an old fashioned till looked up from his paper as the door opened and smiled broadly. A pair of wire pez nez glasses sat below a receding hairline and above thick tweed suspenders and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his meaty forearms. "Trevor!" he greeted jovially as he stood up and made his way to the door. "Good to see you, son!"

"Frank," the laconic teen replied, his grin deepening. Trevor moved to shake the tailor's hand as the older man clapped him on the back. He turned to introduce his classmate. "This is Erin."

[Electra]

A little bemused, Erin shook the tailor's hand. He looked like something out of a storybook or a cartoon, more than a real person. "It's nice to meet you. Trevor's told me a lot about you." More or less. As much as Trevor told anybody about anything. She looked around, taking in all the mens' clothing in the shop. She wondered if Trevor had made sure that his friend made womens' clothes at all.

[Gizmo]

Frank's bushy eyebrows rose noticeably as he noted Erin's firm handshake. The portly tailor didn't release her hand right away, instead pausing to give her a thoughtful once over. "Good lord, you look like you could punch a tank in the snout. Fan-bloody-tastic!" he observed with a genuine smile. Letting go and hurrying with surprising energy for his size and age back to the counter, he noted the teen's concerned glances as he rummaged about for a measuring tape. "Don't worry, I do dresses, gowns, the whole ball of wax, I just don't do them for five foot nothing waifs who've never so much as looked at a sandwich and go to bars where they play that 'oontz oontz' garbage and have little dogs in their bloody purses." By the time he was halfway through the explanation, it was clear that Frank was talking to himself more than anything.

Leaning easily against one of the display tables, Trevor gave Erin a small shrug. "Take the jobs he wants," he reiterated.

[Electra]

"Gotta respect that, I guess," Erin murmured in reply, grinning a little. Once she had the lay of the land down and had scoped out the exits, she wandered around a little, looking at the various suits. She wasn't an expert in men's fashions, but these all looked very good indeed, and if there was anything special about them, she couldn't tell just by looking. She turned back to Trevor. "Does he make your formalwear too?"

[Gizmo]

"I bloody well better," Frank cut in before Trevor could respond. "Like I'd let the kid run around in some piece of--" The tailor looked up abruptly from his rummaging at Erin. "...poorly cut material," he finished wryly, stepping over to a short stool in the middle of quarter circle of standing mirrors. "Up you get," he instructed with a nod as he untangled the measuring tape.

"Between my grandfather and me, most of our wardrobe was made or altered in this shop," Trevor expounded, gesturing lightly around him. "Hard to find stuff that fits me," the notably tall and thin youth admitted.

Frank snorted. "Maybe if you something other than coffee," he countered, rolling his eyes. He returned his attention to the young woman in the shop. "I even made the tux Trev's dad was married in, the ungrateful bum-- no offense kid." The heavyset man fumed idly as he waited for Erin to take her place in front of the mirrors. Unfazed, Trevor shrugged the comment away.

[Electra]

Erin stepped up onto the stool, facing the trio of slightly uncertain-looking copies of herself. She stood very still as the tailor began rapidly taking measurements, starting with the circumference of her head for reasons she wasn't entirely sure of. Height came next, and the length of her arms and size of her biceps, all of which went into a little notebook Frank carried. She couldn't help coloring a little as he did an exhaustive series of torso measurements, tilting her face up toward the ceiling, but Frank was a consummate professional, and very quick. With that done, she blew out a breath and looked at Trevor in the mirror while the tailor finished on her legs. "So what are you going to be wearing?"

[Gizmo]

Trevor looked up from the selection of neckties he was idly picking through. "Hmm? Oh, I was thinking--"

"Black." Frank interrupted him without turning from his work.

The dark haired teen was momentarily nonplussed. "Not... necessarily..." he protested unconvincingly.

At that Frank did stand up, cracking his back with a wince and tucking his measuring tape away. "Son, who made all those suits for you? You've got, what, one burgundy tie with a slate grey pinstripe and everything else? Black. Black on black on black, this kid," he told Erin with a rueful shake of his head.

Trevor folded his arms, his expression flickering between mild amusement and embarrassment. "You had another idea?"

"A gentleman," Frank posited, raising a sausage-like finger in the air, "matches his suit to the lady's dress." The tailor turned back to Erin. "What were you thinking, sweetheart? I say we go sleek and simple, little slink, little sheen..." The high school students could almost see the gears turning in Frank's head as the design took shape.

[Electra]

"Simple sounds good," Erin said hesitantly, looking in Trevor's direction for help and finding none. "Actually, black doesn't sound too bad, either." Black was simple, black would surely let her blend in a little better at a big formal occasion. "Black or gray, maybe, one of those dark silver colors..."

"Oh, no. No, no,no!" Frank refuted her enthusiastically. "With your coloring, you'd look like the guest of honor at a funeral wearing black! And it would be a crime with your figure. You need to show off! Be dangerous!" He hurried over to one of the dozens of closets that lined the walls and pulled out a bolt of fabric, bringing it back and beginning to drape it around her before Erin could do more than open her mouth in astonishment.

It was definitely not black. It was red, a rich, deep red that looked like wine and slid and draped like silk. It was beautiful fabric, but still... "Red?" Erin asked, looking over at Trevor again. "Are you sure?"

[Gizmo]

Trevor's head tilted to one side reflexively as he marshaled his thoughts, caught momentarily between ingrained propriety and a legitimate reason to make careful examination of Erin's form. "It... suits you?" he responded uncertainly, unsure he answering correctly. He didn't want to seem too enthusiastic, after all. "I mean, yeah, uh... wow. It's really... and, uh..."

Frank smirked, pleased with himself. "Trust me, sweetheart, that's the response you're going for. The Hunters are not the most expressive gents around, you mighta noticed." Noting the contrast between the rich colour and the girl's skin tone, the elderly tailor considered. "Hmm... Gonna want to show off some of that leg, athletic gal like you. Besides, put one of you hero girls in a long dress, you're just asking for a giant robot or a nutjob with a freeze ray to show up," Frank grumbled to himself. "The number of times one of my pieces has gotten ripped off above the knee..." He shook his head, annoyed by the memories. Instead, he turned his attention to Erin's upper body. "Shoulders, shoulders... Want to display the strength without emphasizing it," he mused to himself. "I'm thinking... short petal sleeves, I'm thinking... maybe a shawl, light, sheer cream... could go darker with that, too." He looked up at his subject. "What are we feeling more, bit severe but confident, or softer and warmer?" Pulling a chalk pencil from his pocket, Frank began to tap his chin with it thoughtfully, eyes squinting behind his pez nez.

[Electra]

"Um... I don't want anything to carry around I might lose," Erin said, dodging the question about how confident she was feeling. "I might set down a shawl somewhere and forget it. Maybe something scooped, and I could wear a necklace with it?"

"Necklace, yes. Scoop, no!" Frank told her with consummate assurance. "We'll drape it off the shoulder and leave the rest of it simple, not a lot of fabric in the way. You'll want to put that hair up and get earrings to match, a few inches of heels. We're lucky young Trevor here is tall enough for that." He continued working with the fabric, making Erin lift her hands to hold it over her chest while he pinned and made notes.

A little uncomfortable with trying to envision what Frank had in mind, Erin looked at Trevor in the mirror. "So... you know how to dance, right?"

[Gizmo]

"Does he know how to dance?" Frank practically sputtered, pausing his work. "Sweetheart, this is the kid who--"

"Frank," Trevor interrupted the tailor with a quiet clearing of his throat.

"What, kid, c'mon, we're talking about--"

"Frank," the lanky teen called more insistently.

The older man held up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Back to work." He alternated between pinning fabric and scribbling notes with his chalk pencil.

Trevor turned his attention back to Erin, his expression mild. "I dance," he assured her simply.

[Electra]

Erin's lips curved for the first time since she'd stepped up onto the stool. "No, wait, I think I want to hear this, Frank. Tell me more about Trevor and dancing. I think he owes me, since he talked me into going out to this party with him in the first place."

[Gizmo]

Frank snorted in amusement. "Gal's got a point, kid," he told Trevor, moving to stand next to Erin and tuck his thumbs into his suspenders.

Feeling suddenly outnumbered, the lanky youth let out a long breath that wasn't quite a sigh. "Fair enough," he acquiesced after a moment. "I... swing dance. Competitively," he elaborated nonchalantly, turning his attention back to the rows of ties.

[Electra]

Erin raised both eyebrows at this startling revelation, forgetting for a moment the fact that she was wrapped up like a Christmas present. "You swing dance in contests and stuff? Do you win?" It took her a moment to remember swing dancing, and to dismiss the errant thought of Trevor in a leotard and tutu, no matter how funny it was. "That's what that music was that you were playing in the car, right?"

[Gizmo]

Trevor played down the subject with a simple shrug. "Sometimes. I do alright."

"Better than 'alright'," Frank insisted, with a note of pride.

The younger man waved the praise away. "It's a good way to practice acrobatics, improves strength and timing. Keeps people from wondering where I'm hiding myself." The mere fact that he was going to such lengths to deny its importance, as opposed to adopting his habitual stoic silence, was suggestive of the contrary.

[Electra]

"That's cool," Erin decided, still watching him in the mirror. "Sounds like a lot more fun than doing the agility course all night long. And hey, prizes. Doesn't swing dance take a partner?" she asked him. "Who do you dance with?" She squelched a small feeling that definitely wasn't jealousy, seeing as how that would be an absurdly out of place emotion in this case.

[Gizmo]

Trevor's expression clouded breifly, a mere flicker of a shadow of a frown, before falling back into easy neutrality. "Had a few partners over the years," he responded evasively. Rather a sense of vague teenage embarrassment, his mild tone hinted more at a genuinely sore subject. Frank opened his mouth to say something but decided against it, returning to his work and giving Erin a subtle shake of his head.

[Electra]

Now Erin was really curious, but people who lived in glass houses shouldn't ask uncomfortable questions about someone else's past. "Do you still ever do it?" she asked instead. "I'd like to see it sometime. Maybe if you have a competition in Freedom City, we could all come out and cheer you on." She shifted uncomfortably as Frank wrapped the material across her chest in a way that would've revealed a lot more than she was comfortable with if she hadn't been wearing a shirt. When he turned aside to make another measurement, she tugged the fabric up into something more modest.

[Gizmo]

Turning back around, Frank absently readjusted the blot of fabric wrapped around Erin's torso to its original position, evidently not realizing that the girl had moved it intentionally. The portly tailor resumed his work undaunted, humming indistinctly under his breath as he paused for a moment to carefully consider the way the fabric lay about the athletic teen's shoulders.

"Still dance," Trevor confirmed with a shallow nod. "No competitions lately, though. Been busy." He ran a finger along the brim of his fedora significantly, although there was the faint impression that he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. "Let you know, though," he promised.