I know the wind-swept mystical air

[unweaving]

Who: Aranea Highwind + any customers, window shoppers, or potential employees.
Where: Britches and Hose
When: Just in time for Valentine's day, how convenient!
What: Aranea opens her lingerie store to the public.
Warnings: Fancy knickers? Innuendo? Gladio might be there in his undies at some point, I don't know what to tell you.

Open to all!



[ Being a true romantic at heart, Aranea knows the real meaning of Valentine's Day. Money. That's why she's in a rush to open before the holiday itself; there should be just enough time left to attract people looking for a little surprise, people who want their partner to feel just as sexy as they (hopefully) think they are, people who are buying a gift that's really more for themselves than for the recipient, and the last-minute panickers.

Ah, romance.

Inside, there's something for just about everyone, ranging from demure to saucier pinup styles and right through to items that are more straps than fabric. There are also complimentary flutes of chilled bubbly to be poured for customers who are of-age. The front window has a display that holds zero mannequins, and a small notice near the door:

HELP WANTED

Can you:
-sell shit
-tidy shit
-not steal shit?

Apply within.

Britches and Hose is officially open for business! ]

Comments

[unweaving]

I told him. Told the hubby, too, once I got home. There's enough secrets going around this place without making more just for shits and giggles.

[ The combination of don't want him getting hurt and the little flicker of insecurity from before give Aranea enough of a clue to work with, so: ]

He seems like a good guy. Patient, too, if you count a high tolerance for assholes who never met [ she's literally shaping her mouth around an alien before she remembers the words he used and changes tack ] a non-human before. I offered him popcorn. It's probably a good thing neither of us were looking for romance.

[ratkingcole]

Ain't that the fuckin' truth.

[She scoffs, looking off to the side a bit. This town is kind of bullshit, alien ex-boyfriends aside. ]

He's a shithead, but he can put up with a lot of people's bullshit. I try to look out for him.

[unweaving]

[ It's sweet, really. And Aranea kind of hope Corstine's got someone looking out for her, too, but (maybe luckily, in this particular case) she's generally the kind of person who'd set herself alight before she'd say something like that out loud. ]

So, I gotta ask. Ex, or prospective?

[ratkingcole]

[That earns a smug smirk from her.]

...Ex. If I just wanted him, I'd have him. [ Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Corstine. ] I've just got the bad luck to actually give a shit about his well-being, is all.

[unweaving]

[ The little nice Aranea makes at that confidence is sotto voce, but her grin is considerably less subtle. ]

At least some fucker does. Hey, do you want to sit? I'm bored off my tits here, it's been nothing but the Stepfords all day.

[ratkingcole]

[ She gives the woman a once-over again, far less apprehensive this time.]

Eh, yeah sure, what the hell. You got anything to drink around here.

[unweaving]

Now you're talking.

[ Aranea pushes lazily off her stool and ducks into the back room, emerging with a second stool for Corstine, two glasses, and - I am sorry to say - a chilled bottle of sparkling rosé. ]

Left over from opening day. Not exactly my usual style, but I figured it'd go with all the frills. Here, sit.

[ For all her protests about it not being her thing, she pops the cork without rocketing it across the room and foaming wine everywhere, but at least she fills the glasses rather than giving it a dinky sommelier pour. ]

[ratkingcole]

[Corstine doesn't need to be told twice, she takes a seat.]

Not mine either, but I'm not gonna turn down a free drink.

[It hardly needs to be said, of course, that sparkling rosé isn't Corstine's style. One look at the woman is enough to see that she doesn't often come in contact with sparkling anything. ]