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

[paragon]

[ Considering there's nothing to look at out there, this guy spends an awfully long time hovering next to the display window outside. He's certainly not perusing the sign, which he'd only given a cursory glance about a minute ago, if anyone's timing him. Instead he's staring at the ground with his arms crossed over his chest, frowning at it with a worried line across his brow like the sidewalk's got no business being there.

Or maybe that's just him.

He takes a breath and finally lets his arms fall to his sides at that thought, though if anything it makes him look even less relaxed. His shoulders pull back and straighten his spine with military stiffness, and he sets his jaw and generally doesn't do anything to help himself look like he belongs there when he pushes his way through the door. No man ever really does, but Steve suspects he's especially bulky amidst all the delicate material and lace on all sides. ]

[unweaving]

[ Recovering from an accident comes with a bit of a learning curve, apparently. Aranea's still finding that sometimes it takes a little longer than it should to fit pieces into place sometimes, and clapping eyes on this guy as he walks in is no exception. Her first thought is of red hair, which is real disconcerting until the rest of it clicks into place.

There are probably at least a dozen appropriate ways to welcome the partner of your best friend from school into your establishment on the first day of business, even if you don't know him as well as you should. Aranea forgoes all of them in favour of a wolf whistle. ]

[paragon]

[ He'd expect no less, and Steve does flush probably to her satisfaction, already self-conscious here, but it's somewhat tempered by that sense of recognition and forbearance when he looks around for the source and finds Aranea. His first thought is also of Natasha, but Natasha's already on his mind, so it doesn't really help him. Until it does, and his brow, if possible, becomes even more furrowed as he turns to face her and walk closer, as though still trying to fully place her beyond that first spark. ]

Cute.

[unweaving]

My thoughts exactly.

[ Which. Isn't helpful, but she's coming out from behind the counter to meet him anyway. ]

Looking for you, or for Nat?

[paragon]

[ At least he knows she's trying to get a rise out of him now; it makes it easier to let it pass without comment. The first half of the question, too, though he's not sure how much it falls into the same category. He supposes it's an honest one. ]

Uh— Nat. Neither, maybe.

[unweaving]

[ Neither gets a little eyebrow raise, friend instincts kicking in immediately and wanting to deliver the "if you're looking for someone else they'll never find your body" speech, but if ever there was a man that performance wasn't necessary with it's Steve Fucking Rogers. ]

I mean, I could leave you to browse, but then you'd be a big guy pawing through women's underwear all on his own. Doesn't really seem like your style.

[ She's barely even teasing on that one. She's happy to be a buffer, and the smile she gives him is genuine. ]

It's good to see you, Steve.

[paragon]

[ She's right; it's not his style, no matter his size. He's pretty sure it'd look prurient either way, so in the end it's probably a good thing she's here. He returns the smile. ]

You, too. Sorry, I'm still a little— [ He doesn't gesture toward his head so much as tilt it slightly in a way that means the same thing. ] Fuzzy. How's Prompto?

[ It's said with slightly less subtext than she may remember (you know, my former student), but he is still wrapping his head around knowing to ask the question at all. ]

I was enabled this isn't my fault

[unweaving]

[ She nods a little at the fuzzy comment -- aren't they all -- but then he mentions Prompto, and her expression softens.

Prompto is as irrepressible as ever, sweet and funny and smarter than he gives himself credit for. He's the ray of sunshine that made the darkness her service left her with bearable. That's what her face says, at least. Her mouth, on the other hand: ]

Limber as a new branch in Spring. Thanks for asking.

whyyoulying.gif

[paragon]

[ Steve huffs a laugh at that; he ought to have expected it. A part of him did, or is at least reminded by the look on her face. He doesn't care, in the end. They're both adults, and he knows a little something about holding on to what you can find, even if all of those memories aren't exactly returned to him yet. ]

Just make sure he gets plenty of sunshine. Kids need that to grow.

enabling myself is still enabling, gosh!!!

[unweaving]

It's those expert tips that make me glad you're around, Mr Rogers.

[ And listen, she's going to prove it by giving him some actual useful advice relating to her job, rather than just lowkey sexual harassment! ]

Let me return the favor: silk pajamas. Silk's warmer than you'd think, so it's functional with the way the weather's going. It's not as shiny as satin, so you don't get that trashy look, it feels amazing, and since they're pajamas it doesn't come off pervy buuuut she's still gonna look hot in them.

[paragon]

[ Well, if the lowkey harassment bothers him he's not inclined to show it, especially as she makes the case for the pajamas and he gives it its due consideration. ]

You got those here?

[ He doesn't mean to make it sound like you don't run a classy joint, Aranea, he truly doesn't. ]

[unweaving]

I just hide 'em behind the crotchless panties. I got a reputation to uphold, after all.

[ There are, in fact, zero crotchless panties in the store. Still, she waves him over to where they're hanging and whisks a few off in what she vaguely remembers as Nat's size - classic black, creamy ivory, and a few rich jewel tones. ]

Don't choose black. It's a waste, with her coloring.

[paragon]

You remember I teach art, right?

[ Maybe. He's only got a couple solid days under his belt, the rest only a vague recollection of lesson plans and the comings and goings of students, Prompto included. It's an honest question, come to think of it. He's lucky he seems to know what he's talking about when he gets in front of a class.

Regardless, he's not pretending he's the expert here, as he looks down at his choices and feels indecisive in a way that sits uncomfortably with him. ]

She likes black.

[ But he's reaching out to brush a thumb over the ivory. And he remembers something — a party. She'd worn ivory and red lipstick, and he'd seen her leaning over a bar, speaking intimately despite the glass in her hand. He draws his own away quickly and tries to cover for it by looking back toward the rack and nodding to it. ] What about the pink? [ It's not the rich pink she's holding, but a soft color that reminds him of watching her leave the house dressed for her classes. ]

[unweaving]

[ Whatever smartass comment she was going to make about practicality and Nat's tastes dies on her lips at the look on Steve's face. There's something about it that makes her feel she's intruding, and she cuts her eyes to the other side of the store until he speaks again.

And then... well, the suggestion's surprising enough that it pushes away the feeling of intrusiveness she'd had. The pink, soft as a lover's blush, isn't something that would ever have sprung to mind for her but it's easy enough to picture it on her friend. She raises an eyebrow, nods slowly at Steve. ]

Huh. [ Appreciative, impressed. The sets she's already holding get draped over her arm, and she lifts that soft pink out for him to take a closer look.] Consider me told.

[paragon]

[ Given that it was partly a distraction to spare them both from awkwardness, really, he's pretty pleased with himself when Aranea concurs and gives her a smile despite the unease in his gut. He also briefly lifts a palm in a forestalling gesture; he doesn't need to fondle the wares any further, and he's willing to trust her opinion. ]

I'll take it. You've got yourself a paying customer.