|Scene Title||Flattery and Measurements|
|Synopsis||Tiana needs a new wardrobe. Where better to go than Mortimer's?|
|Date||Devember 19, 1994|
|Watch For||Tiana scares the measuring tape!|
During the lunch hour, there are very few people in the actual stores of Diagon Alley; most of the shoppers have gone in search of mid-day sustenance. One particular shopper, however, takes advantage of this to stop into Habitual Habiliments when she is unlikely to have company. Shrouded in a plain black cloak over a smart, black Muggle business suit, Tiana - fully glamoured - steps into the shop and looks around. "Hello?" she calls out softly, her sweet soprano voice heavily accented. "I am looking for a Mister…" She doublechecks the small piece of paper in her hand. "Mordred?"
Mortimer /was/ debating on closing up for lunch, but a /customer/ is here. "Yes my dea.. oh no.. This is just not going to work," and that would be his greeting as he sweeps out from the backroom and catches sight of what Tiana is wearing. "You are in the right place as you clearly need me to rescue you." Minus top hat and gloves, he's just a tad underdressed as he comes out from behind the counter. "I am Mortimer Mordred, and you, mademoiselle?"
Amused by the greeting as well as the naming alliteration, Tiana bows her head in a simple yet elegant greeting. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister Mordred. My name is Tiana Moldavia." Piercing blue eyes follow the man's movements, her lips curving up into a smile that's just simply too perfect to be genuine. The woman is most definitely Slavic; perhaps Armenian? Russian? "I am in need of a new wardrobe and was told that you were the man to see."
Mortimer bows over Tiana's hand, and makes a smooth move for it, in order to plant a kiss across the knuckles. If that fails, what a shame. "Miss Moldavia, I would be delighted to design a new wardrobe for you. Just what sort of attire are you requiring?" The ethnicity is noted, but not commented on. Women are women, regardless.
The kiss across her knuckles is allowed, though the motion seems to add another layer to the distance between them, rather than pull them closer as courtesy dictates. "I am recently come to London to try and start a new life, Mister Mordred." At this, she allows just a hint of melancholy to color her tone. It should be enough to hint at a Tragic Past. Maybe. "I must meet with your Minister soon." And then under her breath, but conveniantly still audible, "Before it is too late." That's it, Tia; play up the drama. "You can outfit me with suitable attire? I am afraid I am unfamiliar with the dress and customs here."
Seeing as it would be rude to pry, Mortimer says nothing about the Hint <tm>. He steps back from the woman, "My dear, you are in safe hands here. You will have attire suitable for meeting with the heads of state." He smiles charmingly at Tiana, "I guarantee, that you will outclass the Minister. Now I stay out of politics and current affairs, I only pay attention to fashion and current styles.. but between you and me? The Minister has /horrible/ fashion sense." *wink* "Now! You said you required a new wardrobe. How many outfits are you looking for, and for what occasions?"
"I believe ten will do, sir. Most of them robes for business and travel, but also two sets of dress robes and a new cloak." The remark about being safe earns a smile that is such an epitome of weary good-nature that it cannot possibly exist; save on artwork of hobbits. Or possibly elves. "I do not wish to offend the Minister, sir. I only wish to look my best." There's a small pause as she inhales deeply. "She must take me seriously."
My dear, you have made Mortimer's season. "Delightful! Now if you will permit me? I will take your cloak and your measurements." He holds out his arm to take the cloak so that it can be hung up for now. "She will take you seriously, my dear, with your bearing? You will be as regal as a queen."
His words ten years ago would have appealed to her ego, but after years of being told she's beautiful, wonderful, talented, gorgeous, etc., Tiana has stopped believing any of it. They're just words after all, and what use are words to a whore? With ginger care, she slides the cloak from her shoulders and offers it to him; revealing the full extent of her glamourized, perfectionist beauty. Even with the inevitable draw towards her, there's a sense of danger too; a subconscious notion to Stay Away. The air of a predator disguised as a pretty woman. "I hope she does, Mister Mordred. Lives depend on it." And truer words were ne'er spoken.
Of course. One hears something so often, they grow numb to it. What a shame in Tiana's case. The cloak is taken by Mortimer and he hangs it up with care for the lady. "Again, I stay out of politics." This from the man who buggered off to hide in France during You-Know-Who's campaign of terror. Clueless, he'd prefer to stay that way. "If I have to sweat blood, you will be a vision of regal propriety and the Minister will take you seriously." The tape measure with a mind of its own zooms out and starts taking down Tiana's numbers. It's less excitable today, showing restraint and being as professional as it can be.
Delighted by the little roving tape measure, Tiana allows a softer smile to grace her features, running gentle fingertips along the flat surface as it dips and swirls around her. "Such a clever little device…" Her eyes stray back to the maestro, takinig a moment to take his measure - and without the use of a charmed device either! "Such a choice is nearly always wise." To stay out of politics, that is. "It is a deadly life."
"Yes indeed," Mortimer says as the measuring tape finishes its job. The measurements are taken down and the man circles Tiana, eyeing her curves like a hawk, noting her coloring.. "You are a vision madame, I must confess however.. My skill pales before you. I delight in accentuating a woman's beauty and bringing it to the front, but you? A vision." Instead of looking disappointed at this pronouncement, he looks scheming. "You present me a challenge." Oh he says that to all the girls! "Business attire, dress robes and a new cloak. You will have them!" A snap of his fingers, and a book of his designs flies out to his waiting hand. "Now, I can do original creations for you, I also have some of my more popular designs.."
The flattery goes - once again - in one ear and out the other. Tiana knows what effect she has on people; she designed herself that way. Better for business. "I would prefer the cloak to be a dove grey, if that would suit you, sir." Just a side note. His offer of 'off the rack' is considered logistically for a moment, but ultimately rejected. "I thank you sir, but since I have the means to pay for the custom design, I would prefer it." It would also be safer for him in the end if she doesn't show up wearing Trademark Morty - easily traced and mass-produced.
In one ear, out the other, whatever. Let the man prattle as he likes. His shop afterall! Mortimer smiles, and the book of designs disappears over his shoulder, "I beg your forgiveness for such a ridiculous offer. It shan't happen again." His sketching quill, the parchments, they replace the book in his hands quickly. "It shall be as the lady requests. Your cloak will be dove grey. Do you have a material preference?"
"Crushed velvet." That answer is immediate. "As for the robes… I leave it up to your discretion, sir. I am not familiar with your London fashions." Not on the wizarding side of the wall anyway. "I ask only for the understated; how is it you say? Elegance in simplicity?" Her hand strays to her breast pocket and the slightest of smiles tugs at one corner of her lips. "Forgive my ignorance, but is it in your custom to weave wand pockets into your robes?"
"I am in love!" Mortimer declares as he makes note. Crushed velvet. The lady shall have what she requests. "Any adornments or braiding along the hems?" While Morty likes pushing the customers that can be pushed, he does love the lady who knows what she wants. "I can do simple and elegant," he states, although he enjoys the flamboyant and flashy. Not that his outfit is any indicator of that. Not at all. "Ordinarily, no, but if that is what you want? That is what you shall have. What sort of deadline do you have for these outfits?"
That declaration of love causes Tiana to blink over at Mortimer in something akin to shock. These British wizards…so odd. "No adornments, please. And yes, that will be quite necessary." Despite her own misgivings about her new wand - and their own personal power struggle - Tiana will never be without it again. At least not in this world; too dangerous. "I need one as soon as can possibly be arranged. The Minister must be warned swiftly. The rest can come at your convenience."
Mortimer looks momentarily disappointed. No adornments. This is going to be boring. "Very well then, you will have one outfit suitable for business ready.. Give me two days for that. I will push aside my other orders. Thankfully you have come at this time. I did get a rush of orders from Hogwarts students for their Yule Ball." A frown does crease across his face. "You keep mentioning a need to warn the Minister.. I must admit that I am curious about this." Politics. Such nasty business.
"I thank you, sir." When Mortimer finally bites, Tiana is hard-pressed to smother a grin. Yep, still got it! Stepping closer to the wizard, she leans in and lowers her voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "It is the wolves, sir. I had heard that there had been attacks here." There is a deep breath and her voice takes on an element of pain just too flawed to be fake. "I lost my fiance and son to those monsters." Her eyes slide closed and Tiana visibly 'reins herself in'. "I will not allow the same devastation to strike your people as it did mine."
Smiling, Mortimer's quill is still working furiously in the background with preliminary sketches of the ordered outfits. The smile does slide from his face as the woman murmers about the wolves. He shifts a bit uncomfortably, as he's the sort to worry about his own skin. So staying away from anything that could damage his person is at the top of his priorities. "I .. see.. and yes.. they have been a problem as of late. My condolences on your losses m'lady." Another thin gthat makes him uncomfortable? Trying to be sincere when he doesn't mean it. "Your.. devotion to this is to be commended."
Tiana offers a smile that is anything but pleasant and dips her head in farewell. "It is but self-preservation, sir. Surely you can understand that." Call it a shot in the dark, but considering that most people are out to save their own skin, it is perhaps not such a wild guess. "I will return in two days time. Have a pleasant day, Mister Mordred."
"Yes.. that is something I do understand." How did she know!? What gave it away!? Ahem. Mortimer actually takes a step back at Tiana's smile. Something about the woman is a little.. disturbing. "Your first outfit and perhaps the cloak as well, shall be ready upon your return Miss Moldavia. Have a pleasant day as well."