[Elegant Weave] That ol' Hoo Doo (Orion)

[Basha'ir]

Summer 85, 512 AV

The shop was quiet, most of the other employees having gone to eat a quick lunch. Basha’ir had brought something with her from her tiny room, and already eaten it, and was back to work with her needle, humming softly to herself as it slid in and out through the stiff fabric. One of the other seamstresses was also present, though she had stepped into the front of the shop to see to a piece that she was working on, to compare and contrast a color scheme. The middle aged woman had just re-entered the back room, used for most of the sewing work, and had just taken up her own lunch, when they heard the sound of the front door opening. With an exaggerated eye roll, the woman paused with the chunk of bread halfway to her mouth. Basha’ir listened too, wondering if it was one of their co-workers returned, or a customer. At the sound of a clearing throat, followed by a rather garrulous, “Hello?” the other seamstress groaned.

“Oh, gods, not her!” she said with a grimace.

“Not her who?” Basha’ir inquired, curious that her friend could so easily detect who the caller was just from that one word.

The other woman rolled her eyes again and her face was a work in annoyance. “Sedelle List, only the most frustrating customer that ever darkened our doors!” she hissed. “That woman is maddening! Too much time and too much money on her hands, although getting her to part with any coin is like trying to pry an oyster from its shell. She’ll come in, oh, at least two times a month, always claiming some special need or other. But really, all she wants to do is look at, and fondle, every blessed garment we have, and talk incessantly, and act like she’s going to buy something, but never does!” The seamstress let out a snort of indignation. “And now I’ll never get to eat!”

Basha’ir eyed her co-worker thoughtfully, and then said, “No, you sit. Eat. You deserve a few minutes of rest, and to enjoy your food in peace and quiet. I’ll go wait on her.”

The seamstress looked skeptical and hopeful, all in one. But eyeing her lunch, it didn’t take much to convince her. “Alright, I suppose Mistress Druva can’t complain about it. The List never buys anything, anyway. So, what can it hurt?” She was already stuffing the bread in her mouth as Basha’ir rose swiftly, not wanting to give her time to change her mind.

“That’s right. What can it hurt?” Basha’ir smiled sweetly. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t you count on that,” her friend muttered, around the mouthful of half chewed bread.

Entering the front room, Basha’ir got the same feeling she always did, when she thought about working here, at An Elegant Weave. How wonderful it would be, she thought, to have a place like this to hold dominion over. To design her own pieces. To establish a clientele who could appreciate fine clothing. To see people happily leaving with exactly what they wanted. How would that be, she would think to herself. But seeing the imposing figure of a late middle aged matron standing in the center of the store, already looking both bored and impatient, and ready to fill someone’s ear with complaint for that, Basha’ir focused on the task ahead.

Five minutes later, and the woman was finally done with complaining about everything from poor service in what were supposed to be high end establishments to the cost of a glass of wine at her favorite tavern. She certainly was a master of going off on a tangent and Basha’ir had listened patiently and silently, simply nodding her head when it seemed appropriate. It seemed this Mistress Sedelle was now ready to begin her browsing. But Basha’ir was thinking about the time. It wasn’t that she was anxious to get back to her sewing. That would always be there for her, no matter how quickly she finished a piece. There would always be another to take its place. No, she was thinking about how soon one of the front room clerks might be back, or even Mistress Druva herself, and then her chance would be gone. She’d of course be expected to withdraw to the back, and leave this important but non-paying customer in more accomplished hands. Of course, those hands weren’t very successful, were they, she thought with an inner spark of mischief, for she had her plan laid out.

Basha’ir had handled much tougher customers than this, many times, though the merchandise had been far different.

Adroitly, she heard a pause in Sedelle’s air flow and graciously insinuated herself into the one sided conversation. “You are entirely correct Mistress,” she purred, letting her veil drop fully and training her eyes on the sour faced matron. With a flowing motion, Basha’ir let the Padmina slip from her shoulders, setting it aside discretely. Without seeming to, she turned her body to best advantage, not to be sexually enticing, but simply to display it as one would a fine piece of art. She paused, as the woman finally stopped talking, and that certain look of interest came into her eyes.

“What was that you were saying, dear?” Sedelle asked, her head tilted to one side, seemingly anxious to indeed hear what the young seamstress had to impart.

“I believe it was you that was saying something, about your husband was it not? How he was eating far too much, the last time you were out. Now, could it be that his trousers are getting a bit too tight?” Basha’ir stretched out her hand and lightly touched the other woman’s hand. “Isn’t that just like a man?” she quipped softly.

Really! Some of the images that flashed through her mind were…incredible. But Basha’ir wasn’t shocked. Sadly, she all too well knew the seamier side of human nature, and then some!

Withdrawing her hand quickly, she went on. “And of course, though you would do the duty of a good wife, and buy him several new pair, he no doubt would begrudge you even one new dress. No matter how flattering it would look on you. Like this one, for example.” Basha’ir plucked one of the most expensive pieces from its place on the wall and held it up to the mesmerized customer. “Of course, it might need some alterations, but oh my goodness, doesn’t it look stunning!”

Trying not to think about the time whizzing past, Basha’ir worked the woman hard and fast. Truly, it was like taking candy from a great big, fat, wrinkled baby, and by the time Bash’ir heard the door to the shop open behind her, there was a literal pile of clothing laying on the counter. Assuming it was either one of the clerks or her employer, Basha’ir could not help but show off just a tiny bit more. Looking Mistress List right in the eye, she said in an almost seductive tone, “I know that you don’t have any granddaughters yet, but for when you do, don’t you think this is the most adorable little dress?” She held up a confection in pink and white. Sedelle began to coo over the darling but useless garment, when Basha’ir heard the door open a second time, and this time, she heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by an, “Excuse me, sir, I’ll be with you in a moment,” and then, “Mistress Sedelle! How good to see you!”

It was one of the clerks returned, and she wasted no time in brushing right past Basha’ir and going straight to her customer, whose expression was one of bemused contentment, even as she reached for her coin purse. The clerk, ready to effusively greet the woman, was halted in mid word, with her mouth hanging awkwardly open.

“I have never, I say, never been treated like this before!” Sedelle was saying. The clerk glared at Basha’ir, snapping her mouth shut with a click. But the woman went on. “I don’t know where you’ve been hiding this little treasure!” Sedelle patted Basha’ir’s cheek affectionately, and the girl tried not to wince at the renewed contact with the woman’s inner most workings. “But she is the only one who has ever understood me!” Sedelle’s voice was strident with passion, the passion of a woman who had long suffered the pain of maltreatment at the hands of uncaring and loutish store clerks.

“Look!” she cried, gesturing with a sweep of her fat hand. “Perfection! Every last one of them. Exactly what I needed!” She turned to Basha'ir and it looked as if she just might cry. “Thank you! Thank you, my dear!”

To say the clerk look dumbfounded would be the understatement of the year. Her mouth had dropped open again, but no sound threatened to come out. She just stared at the young seamstress, unbelieving.

Sedelle, her eyes moving briefly beyond her savior surrogate storeclerk, spied the other occupant of the sales room. Beaming brightly, she cried out, “Young man, you must let this divine creature see to your every need! I promise you, you will have no regrets!”

Her sense of mischief now significantly dampened by a good dose of embarrassment, Basha’ir dropped her eyes to the floor. But the clerk, who saw the imaginary coins dancing before her eyes, and their mistress’s satisfied face, said briskly, “Go ahead, Basha’ir. See to the gentleman and I’ll help Mistress List with her purchases.”

Almost guiltily, Basha’ir turned to the new customer, raising her eyes, and almost falling over from surprise when she saw who it was.

[Orion Michaels]

Orion, Day of Summer 85, 512 AV If every time he met Basha'ir there was clothing damage, this relationship was bound to get expensive. Another day, another ruined outfit. Orion didn't mind though. It was just a convenient excuse to go to her work. The previous evening had gone well, sans a punch to the face. No matter, the young doctor was on his way to The Elegant Weave. Swollen nose or not, the physician needed to keep his wardrobe full. His clothing had to be replaced often enough as it was thanks to his patients. "I ought to be more careful about my own, though," he mused, arriving at the door of the business. This was a tad unusual, though, Orion thought. Seeing a woman twice in as many days. Honestly, the young man couldn't remember the last time that had happened. He was always in it for a little fun, and if that wasn't something which seemed like it would be happening that evening, he would cut the cord and move on. It seemed a different story this time. Orion paused at the entrance, brushing his finger against his lip, thinking of the night before. He was a little tipsy from the drinking, more nervous than he rightly should have been, and his nose was bloodied pretty bad. Yet they had... Orion shook his head. They'd done less than he was used to, that was for sure. Opening the door, the blue eyed man stepped into the store, stopping to watch in amusement at the scene unfolding before him. An ugly older woman. Basha. An ugly older woman buying clothing for grandchildren she seemed to not have. Basha handing the woman expensive clothing, sweet talking her, and surely filling the coffers of this business. A grin spread across the lips of the young man as he watched the beautiful woman work her magic. The best part, of course, was that she hadn't noticed him walk in. Almost flirting with the woman, Basha'ir seemed to have her eating up every suggestion. She had quite an eye for a person's tastes, it seemed. “Young man, you must let this divine creature see to your every need! I promise you, you will have no regrets!” Orion nodded at the proclamation the woman made. Waiting patiently as their eyes made contact and Basha'ir realized who he was, Orion bit his bottom lip seductively, tossing her a wink. "My every need, huh? She certainly does sound like a goddess."

[Basha'ir]

A rosy bloom spread over Basha’ir’s uncovered cheeks, as her eyes met his…and he winked at her! Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, though she could not help but rivet her gaze on the way Orion was biting down so temptingly on those sweet lips that she had, just the night before…No, no, no! She couldn’t be thinking of that here! Not now! She must act the professional in front of her co-workers, and the customer. She must not think about that kiss! What had that horrible Sedelle said? She would see to his every need! Oh gods! She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her, mercifully. But of course, that wasn’t likely to happen so it was time to stop standing there blushing like a virgin and gawking at Orion like some silly school girl. Time to move, to speak, to…

"My every need, huh? She certainly does sound like a goddess."

Oh, yes, that really helps things, Orion, she thought turning away before she burst into tears, or giggles or threw her arms about him and stole another kiss. How in the world could any man make her feel so…confused, and yet, so happy, just to see him? Basha’ir took in a deep steadying breath, and turned back to him, hoping that she now seemed more composed than she felt inside.

“Certainly, sir, all of Mistress Druva’s staff seek to ensure our valued customers are well taken care of. Mistress List is far too kind. I’ve only done what any of us would do, and I’m quite thrilled to know that she is satisfied with the service I’ve been able to render to her.” Oh brother! Was that laying it on thick or what? She cleared her throat and gave Orion a pointed look, that hopefully said something like, Don’t get me fired, please! Then she stepped closer to him, and acted as if she could in no way see the visible swelling of his poor nose. How she so badly wanted to kiss it better! But quite sedately now, she asked, “What can I help you with, sir?” her face all innocence.

But wickedly, her expression softened and she reached out and touched his hand. “Come this way, and perhaps I can find something that you might like.”

[Orion Michaels]

Orion, Day of Summer 85, 512 AV Oh those blushing cheeks. Orion never tired of making them turn red. To see such a normally composed woman turn to that before a few teasing actions almost made him laugh aloud. He could see the wheels in her mind turning. Surely she was thinking about last night. Nothing too serious had happened in Orion's mind, but in hers it may have been another story. He wouldn't have been able to mess with her so easily otherwise. Orion knew she could just as easily turn the tables, so it was best to stay on the offensive. He raised an eyebrow as she fed him some canned line about satisfying customers. By the gods that was horrible, he thought, shaking his head as she spoke. Taking note of her look, he laid off the flirting ever so slightly, letting his sparkling blue eyes do the work for him. They never left hers, as he allowed a small, coy smirk to decorate his face. "I had an accident last night which leaves me in need of another shirt and pants. I've had nothing but success at this place, so I've returned. I'm eager to view such a skilled woman at work." He nodded, adding quickly, with no explanation needed, a single word. "Red." Orion followed the beauty into the back, containing a laugh at her chosen words. He glanced over his shoulder, and once they were out of view, he gently pushed her against the wall, lowering his face before hers. "Perhaps you can, Basha.." The young man paused a moment, leaving his lips a whisper away from hers before pressing them tenderly against hers, his tongue parting hers, but only for a moment, just long enough to leave his taste, long enough to leave her wanting more. He wasn't ignorant of the way her eyes bore into him. "I think a new outfit will do well, don't you?" he said, pulling away from her. "Nothing too fancy, it's probably going to get ruined." He lowered his voice, whispering. "Any excuse to bring me back here, right Basha'ir?" He gave his lips a quick lick before turning away, viewing the options before him. "I do feel like I've got too much clothing on," he quipped. "After all, I barely had a pair of pants last time." He looked back at her, his gaze settling on her, drinking her up. She had him in one of those moods. Aggressive. Over the top flirty. It didn't help that she was plainly worried about getting in trouble at work. She was going to earn her miza's today. He'd take her out later as a peace offering, but for now Orion was going to drive them both insane.

[Basha'ir]

Oh, she was having an effect on him, alright…making him want something, but not clothing. Through her touch she felt the pulsing desire to continue teasing her, to make her squirm, and she knew already that her reciprocal wish to keep flirting with him did not stem in its entirety simply from her mark. Trying not to drown in those sparkling blue pools, she wriggled her shoulders uncomfortably, as if to rid herself of her own weakness, and the strength of Orion’s little grin. When he dropped that one last word, red, she almost lost it, having to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing. The color in her cheeks did not recede however. If anything, it intensified at his bringing up the image of his brightly hued underwear. Oh dear gods, how was she ever going to get through this?

Leading him back into the shop, knowing he was just behind her shoulder, she tried to focus, tried to think of shirts and trousers instead of shorts, and…him. The shop had a slight L shape to it and many of the men’s pre-made garments were in that shorter back leg. So she was heading there, not taking into consideration the semi-privacy it afforded them. Reaching the first rack of clothes, she turned to address him, determined to keep her tone professional. But as she moved to face him, his hands went to her arms, not roughly, but firmly enough that, unprepared to resist, Orion easily pushed her back. She felt her shoulder blades touching the wall behind her and then his face was right there, before hers, only a few inches away. His voice dropped into a sultry, provocative timbre, one she hadn’t heard before, and she must have looked liked the proverbial deer in a spotlight as she looked up at him, her lips parted in surprise. His head dipped and those sweet lips that she had been trying so hard not to think about were against hers, the tip of his tongue sliding out to run deftly over her warm lips, and then darting past them. She felt her heart literally stop, and that touching of skin to skin inundated her body and mind with the need for more. His need, her need, it was impossible to separate them. Her hands had just fluttered up, as if they would pull him closer still, when he was gone and speaking to her again, though his voice seemed so far away. It took a moment to focus and bring herself back, as she just stared at him, lost in that kiss, those eyes.

His voice was now lighter, teasing still, but then he was whispering and she could feel that whisper, his voice, running up and down her spine, making her skin break out in chill bumps. She struggled to breathe and when he moved away, she didn’t know if she would sigh with relief or with regret. But as he made his little joke, she felt her heart restart, and she gulped in some air. This was impossible! His desire, compounded by her own, made her feel so lightheaded, she was in fear that she might pass out. And wouldn’t that look great, right here in the shop? The shop! Yes. She needed to focus! She was at work, damn it! And she couldn’t afford to lose this job! Her eyes flashed at him, with some underlying accents of slight annoyance. What was he thinking? Did he seriously want to get her fired?

As the seconds ticked away, now that he wasn’t touching her, what Orion wanted and what she wanted for herself diverged and coalesced into two more discrete impulses. Yes, she wanted him, from her own accord. But no, she wasn’t insane. She didn’t want to get into a tongue wrestling match with him right here, ten steps away from the other clerk, and a customer! And if Orion would just behave himself, they could get through this. She could get through this.

Taking two deep, slow breaths, she pushed herself away from the wall, looking past him now, to the clothes rack before him.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice barely shaking at all. “Your trousers were in a sad state, sir.” She moved past him, her fingers resting on the bar of the rack. “I can’t imagine what you must get up to, to put your clothes to such hard use. Though I suppose a doctor must encounter many situations which present the opportunity to ruin them.”

She plucked a pair of trousers from the rack and turned back, holding them out to him, trying to ignore those pretty, treacherous eyes. She tilted her head just a bit, lifting one eyebrow and lowering her voice. “Chasing young women through the streets? Perhaps that takes its toll, after a while. Or is it what happens once you catch them?”

Hoping that her movements looked casual, she move to another rack, this one holding shirts, deliberately putting her back to him. With a nod back towards the other side of the shop, she added, “I believe you know where the screen is, for changing?”

[Orion Michaels]

Orion, Day of Summer 85, 512 AV The look of shock seemed to serve to keep Orion going. As though he'd forgotten Basha'ir wasn't one of his normal targets, his aggression seemed to know no bounds. Their relationship, whatever it was, was something more than physical, somewhere in between, but for now it escaped his mind. The idea of a little fun with people so close, it was almost dangerous. It was fun. At least for him. He easily picked up on the effect he was having on his brown eyed girl, but her signals of wishing to stay out of trouble soared past the lustful man's senses. She was all over the place, and he loved it. He grinned as her hands never seemed quite sure what they wanted to do. Her look of annoyance either missed him entirely or he ignored it, as his eyes continued to dance playfully. His heart pounded heavily, he listened as she spoke of what may causes him to need clothing so often. A jab at the events of their first meeting, followed by one of at there last had him taking a step back towards her. "Ma'am," he said, emphasizing the formal way she was speaking to him, "it's a messy business, the field of medicine, that is." His grin dropped from his face, a serious expression replacing it. Lowering his voice, Orion spoke. "As for chasing women through the streets, you've experienced nothing, Basha." He raised his hand to run it along her cheek before turning to head behind the changing screen. He had legitimately come to her place of work for clothing, but when he'd seen her work, seen her almost twist that woman to his words, it, well, got his blood flowing. He didn't really wish to behave. If anything happened, he'd explain it all away, take the blame, she would tell them it's fine, and he'd make a generous purchase or something to wash it all over. No matter the outcome, he wanted those lips, and more. He was sure she would cooperate. She could be be a wild woman as well. At least Orion believe as such. "Just for changing, huh? Can you see my shadow through it. Maybe I could put on a show." Realizing he'd said that quite loud, the doctor tried to recover. "I-I mean, like shadow puppets." He playfully bit at the air towards her and flashed a smile as he disappeared behind the screen. "Thank you for your professionalism, as always Miss Basha'ir. I don't know what would happen if desired to be less so." The young physician lowered his voice again. "...Like me.." He held a hand out from behind the screen, waiting patiently for the garments, that ever present smirk glued to his face.

[Basha'ir]

She heard him step closer, and just as she turned, with what intent even she herself could not have said, his fingers brushed across her cheek. There wasn’t any desire in Orion to hold back, this time. Basha’ir felt the pounding beat of his lust, and her own blood took up the rhythm. Her dark greens eyes seemed to darken further, the pupils expanding with her attraction to him. His words, offered in that low provocative tone once more, were they a promise, or a warning? When in the next moment his touch left her burning skin and he moved towards the screen, she had one moment of crazed fantasy of following him, and giving him everything that he wanted, with no thought of the consequences. But as was always the case, the loss of that contact allowed her blood to cool and her brain to start working again. The sound of his little joke made her cringe, and she hardly dared to breathe, for fear the clerk would be imminently stepping around the corner to see what in the name of the gods she was up to, flirting with this man. She waited, one heartbeat, two, three, and let out a semi-relieved breath. Apparently, no-one else had heard his outrageous, teasing offer of a show. With an elaborate eye roll, Basha’ir took a shirt from the rack with trembling fingers, even as Orion smiled at her and did that little thing with his teeth. Gods! Did the man have no idea how to behave in public, she thought, while at the same time wondering how those teeth would feel pressing down against the soft skin of her neck…

With an effort, she wrenched her mind from such fatal thoughts of wickedness, and she stepped close enough to the screen to place the shirt in Orion’s outstretched hand, hearing again the teasing humor in his voice.

“I’d say you’ve already put on a show worthy of the accolades of the masses, Doctor Michaels,” she retorted in a low voice meant only for his ears. “And if you don’t stop, I can easily see this as being the end of my professionalism as a lowly seamstress, at least in this shop.”

There was a bite to her voice as she added in an even lower tone, “You may be willing to risk your reputation, at least your reputation as a doctor. I’m beginning to think you might well have another, not quite so professional.” Her voice softened, though, and she could not help but appeal to what she hoped was at least some little concern for her position. Her tone little more than a whisper, she said, “Please, Orion, I need this job. Just as much as I might need…anything else.”

She let her fingertips rest against the frame of the screen, as if she might be touching that which she knew was just on the other side of it.

[Orion Michaels]

Orion, Day of Summer 85, 512 AV The smirk on the doctor's face had vanished as her words swept over him. Harsh, biting words from someone who just moments ago seemed to be enthralled by him, like she would do anything that he wished, like she would do as he did. But now it was something different. She was upset with him. Orion could understand that enough. He was being completely out of control, and yeah, it was dangerous to act this way in her place of work. Fine, whatever, he could look past that. But it was upsetting, the seemingly flip flopping of emotions. "These petching mixed signals.." he said coldly. Was he angry? His fists balled up to suggest it so. With a tightening jaw, Orion looked around the edge of the curtain. It may have been the ridiculousness of it all. It may have been his mood. The man was used to relationships of a more carnal nature. The last time he was with someone for more than a crazy evening was Lyla. Basha had a few days up on that, but he didn't have a grasp on her at all. "Are you serious?" he said, his voice barely controlled, a hint of anger in his words. Trying to keep his voice down, he stepped back out, the clothing clenched in his hands. "Reputation? What the petch was that?" His voice grew louder. "Why yes, Basha'ir, I do have a bit of a reputation." He couldn't stop himself as his words became more and more venomous. "Is there a problem with that? My lovely, lowly seamstress?" He bit his lip, but this time there wasn't any desire it in. An attempt to calm himself, and attempt to stop himself before he went too far, if he hadn't already. "I can't believe that you'd say that." He attempt to control his volume had quickly failed, likely attracting the attention of those in the other room. Orion was only getting more upset by the moment. This woman played him like a lute, so this wishy washy way of doing things was infuriating to him. All her initial reactions were those of desire, but then to say shyte like that. "Just..forget it, Basha." He tossed the clothing back to her. "I'm a horrible person who's out to lose your job! Whatever." His words flew without restraint, his mind removing his filter. The doctor was a mess inside, she probably knew it better than he in some ways. "I don't get you. Why the petch are you holding back? Is there something you want to hide from me?" He turned to leave the back room, looking back at her. "I...I...I can't do this. I can't open up at all to someone who is just going to get mad. Even if I'm the one who is unreasonable." He gave her a sad smile. "Just tell them I was an irate customer. It wouldn't a lie." He paused another moment, staring her down. "I'm obviously not ready to do whatever it is that you petching need or want or whatever the heck it is. And you...well....." The doctor chewed his words briefly before speaking again. "I don't think you ever let anyone know you."

[Basha'ir]

His voice held both ice and fire as he came back at her, and his ire stung more harshly than she would have thought possible. He was justified in being upset at what seemed her capricious coyness. But she was justified in wishing him to stop this insanity, here at her sole source of income. She wanted him and she knew he wanted her and yes it would have been completely mad and thrilling to act on their impulses but, really…no. And it hurt her that he seemed not to care. Perhaps his living situation was such that he thought little of having steady employment. In truth, she knew very little about him. And he knew even less about her.

As he glared at her, her head dropped and she remained silent, accepting his frustration, his thwarted playfulness, his confusion. Yes, she was the cause of it and she now knew, her experiment was an abysmal failure. She could have told him. Could have hissed her secret in his ear and then he would know, why she acted this way, sort of. With an internal shake of her head, she tossed aside her own lame idea. He could never understand, no-one could who wasn’t marked by the goddess of lust. A relationship with a man could only go just so far before it was natural that they would touch, even in casual, non-intimate ways. And then…

Of the two of them, now, Basha’ir was probably even less aware than Orion of how his voice was carrying to the front of the store. He had tossed the trousers and shirt that she had chosen for him back at her, and she had them caught up against her chest. He was blasting her still, when she heard the steps. Thank the gods she had heard them! Orion seemed to be slowing down and his voice was a bit lower, thank the heavens, and she moved quickly beyond him, even as he turned to go. Without even looking at him, she hurried to intercept the other clerk who was now poking her long nose around the wall to see what was going on. The woman’s mouth was just opening, to complain or warn or lecture, but Basha’ir ducked her head in a subservient gesture, and then raised her eyes to look directly at her co-worker.

“This customer is far too important for me to wait upon. He needs the skilled touch of one far more experienced than a lowly seamstress. I belong in the back, sewing. I should go back to my real job.” The words were said in a low, soft voice, though there was some urgency to them. Basha’ir knew that if she did not do this right, her skills would not work well. She forced herself to slow down, feeling the loss of her own will as she forced it upon another. “You are the trained salesperson. You are well within your role to tell me to go on, back to the sewing. You have everything under control here. I’m not needed.”

The clerk was now looking down her nose at Basha’ir, and in a haughty voice, she intoned, “Ah, Basha’ir, thank you so much for your assistance. Mistress List has been seen to. You may return to your work now, to your sewing. Go on, I’ll take care of this young gentleman.”

She did look askance at the rolled up clothes still in the younger woman’s hands. Basha’ir shook them out and said in a lower voice, “These didn’t fit. You know how thoughtless customers can be with the clothes. I’ll hang them back up later.”

Saying no more, and without daring to look at Orion, Basha’ir fled for the back room.

[Orion Michaels]

Orion, Day of Summer 85, 512 AV Words spoken can never be taken back. Oh how Orion wished he could. He was upset, he was irrational, but he didn't intend to lash out so viciously. It was her source of income, and likely not near that of a doctor. He was aware he'd treated her job as expendable, which really wasn't fair. But for half the time, so had she. And that's why he said what he said. The woman left him wanted to stop her, wanting to hold her, kiss her, and push all this away and pretend like it didn't happen, but he just couldn't. She stood there taking his unfair abusive words. He didn't know her, he didn't have any right to make accusations like that of someone he'd known only a few days. Someone who just 12 bells before seemed perfect. Now, she just stood there, accepting his attack as truth, and it only served to boil his blood further. He was the one out of control. Where's the bite you had earlier, Basha!! His mind was screaming. It was an impossible situation. Infuriated both by her attack and her unwillingness to continue it, in a strange way he wanted this fight. With a belief that angry words hold a truth that daily ones hide in shadows, Orion hoped he'd gain a glimpse into this woman who wore veils over more than her face. She needed to fight back. She needed to tell him. Or rather that's what he wanted. She needed to be more like... The thought froze him as his heart jumped into his throat. It was all suddenly so clear to him. He let her walk by as she refused to turn her beautiful green eyes on his. He listened as she explained what happened, and turned the situation against herself. The doctor just stood there as she disappeared from his view, accepting that things had ended before they'd begun. He touched his lips where what only seemed like moments ago they had touched. Speaking in a cool, collected voice, the doctor addressed the clerk. "Please don't allow Basha'ir to fool you. I made a crude comment which upset her, and I'm terribly sorry." He took the clothing back from the woman, his mind racing with thoughts of the dark haired woman. "These were actually a perfect fit," he lied. "I'll take them." Paying the woman for the shirt and pants, he glanced back once more at where Basha'ir had run off to, bit his lower lip in frustration, and exited the store.