IC Inbox - Ryslig

[blap_blap]

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[blap_blap]

[Tim went with the tailor to a little alcove with mirrors, where she had her tape measure and notebook and all that kind of thing. She would tell him to hold out an arm or turn this way or turn that way and measure various parts of him; across his back, the distance around his arm, the length from shoulder to waist. Inseams, too, which was a lot harder to determine now that his legs were jointed in a manner that wasn't human. Things that, presumably, a person would need to know to make a suit that fit just right.]

[He was a little distance away from where Majima was looking at suit accouterments with the assistant, but not so far that his sensitive minotaur hearing couldn't keep track of the conversation. It wasn't eavesdropping if he couldn't help it, right?]

[The assistant was telling him all about what kind of flowers he could get in the boutonnieres-- carnations were traditional, but some people liked gardenias because of their lovely scent. Or cornflowers, because of some old folk tale about young men in love wearing cornflowers, and if it wilted too soon, their love wasn't returned.]

["Didn't think you were the marrying type?" Since he'd commented on never being in a shop like this, looking at wedding tuxes. "Or just not very traditional?"]

[justbeingknife]

Maybe. I always brushed it off when someone asked about it -- figured it'd never happen.

[ Why was Majima going on about this, anyhow? Maybe he was too happy, maybe he just wanted to talk about it as he slipped on a tuxedo jacket in a pale neutral shade. ]

My folks were married, and hell if it made them any happier. But it's not like it had to be like that, right? I mean, if I found anyone I was that sweet on, I'd want to take care of 'em forever. Be one of those old folks still takin' walks together in the park.

And after I met Tim, I... sorry, ya must hear this kinda thing all the time.

[ At least he had the decency to sound sheepish as the assistant set him up to the mirror and examined the lapels. It did nothing for his stupidly smitten tone of voice though, or the way he couldn't quite stop smiling. That was his endgame, spending the rest of his life with a freckly slab of beef. Looking at flowers in the springtime, maybe getting a couple of cats that shed everywhere. ]

I just want to give him everything I can. A fancy weddin', a big white frilly cake, flowers, the works. Make sure he knows how special he is.

[ "Well, I think you've come to the right place," the assistant said, smiling. "And that cut looks quite handsome on you! It's perfect with your fur." ]