notallofus | Choosing formalwear! THE HORROR

Choosing formalwear! THE HORROR

Go to a club opening, the mission brief said.

Pass codes over and receive a beacon location for the goods they have to transport, the mission brief said.

Buy formalwear for the first time in your life, the brief did not say, but that's Kanan's current assignment, regardless.

He has found dark-colored pants, at least, but are they sophisticated pants? Are they the kind of pants a rich, suave guy would wear to a club opening intended for high rollers and the idle rich?

They're certainly sparkly, when he tilts them in the light, so maybe so. But then, if he chooses these pants, what sort of shirt is he going to need, and will his boots be all right, or is there some kind of shoe he needs to use, too.

And what about make-up?

Which is why instead of choosing several items and making his way to the front of the shop to pay for them, Kanan is standing, stunned and overwhelmed, in the pants aisle. One of several pants aisles, actually.

This is hell.

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"You don't want me to, um -

"- come see how it looks, when you've got it on?" she recovers.

"Oh, uh. Yeah."

Is that relief in his tone as he half-turns to look back at her.

"That would be great. I, uh. Don't want to have to walk through half the store if it's not, uh. Good."

"No problem, love."

She glances around, and then spots pair of swinging wooden doors near the back, a silver-plated protocol droid standing by it. "Looks like it's over there."

"Right," Kanan says, and then, a little more briskly, "right."

He moves in that direction, striding determinedly with his armful of clothes up until he hits the protocol droid. Then, well --

"Uh."

The droid's head has been turning to follow Kanan's progress this whole time. And now that he's there, it speaks. "Hello, sir. If you'll go right inside, changing room number three is open."

"Thanks," Kanan says gruffly, moving through the indicated curtain and looking for a door with the number three on it. He finds a curtain, instead, which isn't his favorite, but, oh well. It'll do. He moves the curtain aside, closing it behind him and starting to set his clothing on a nearby shelf when two sets of droid pincers take each item of clothing from him and whisk it away.

"Wha -- "

He turns, suddenly free hand dropping to his hip to grab his blaster, when --

Well, the droid that took his clothes is a small, shiny copper unit that looks like a cross between an astromech and a pit droid, only with two sets of pincers and one set of humanoid hands attached to long, snakelike appendages.

"If sir will permit me to assist, we'll have you dressed and back out in a jiffy!" The voice definitely has a Core accent mangled by a high-pitched electronic buzz and some faltering circuitry that makes the delivery jerky in comparison to the protocol droid outside.

"I'll just -"

Hera takes one step back from the curtain, and then another.

"I'll just - wait out here -"

Apparently she did not deal with a changing-room-droid herself.

"You do that," Kanan says, attempting to seem less dumbfounded and uncomfortable than he actually is. "But if you hear me hit the floor, please come and rescue me."

"Oh, sir!" says the hybrid droid, trundling closer on its wheeled chassis, "I'm here to help you into and out of your pants so you do not overbalance, or trip, or fall. We prevent all harm to our customers here at the Emporium."

As the droid speaks, it begins plucking at the hem of his shirt with one set of pincer claws, using its hands to try to chivvy Kanan's arms above his head so that extracting him from his garment will be easier.

"Uh. I really can do this by myself," Kanan interjects, taking a step back and bumping into the wall.

"As sir wishes," says the droid, looking downcast. "We simply aim for total customer satisfaction."

"Maybe if you hold out the stuff as I need it?" he offers in return, because . . . well, it's not like that will kill him, right?

"Of course, sir!" says the droid, perking back up again. And away they go.

The curtain might keep Hera from seeing anything, but she's still able to hear this entire back and forth between Kanan and the droid.

It's... endearing?

She's keeping her eyes rather determinedly on the floor.

"How's it going?" she dares, after a few minutes of shuffling.

"Well -- " Kanan says, pulling on the pants one leg at a time, then standing still to let the droid run a lint brush all over him, " -- it fits, at least?"

"Oh, sir!" says the droid helpfully. "If you are dissatisfied with how this looks, you should really try more ruffles."

Kanan stutters to a stop, shirt half-on and half-off. Ruffles? Definitely not. "Uh. I think I'll stick with this, if you just -- here, can you get -- "

"Ah," says the droid. "Yes, sir. I will ably assist you in unsticking yourself from your shirt, sir."

The droid does assist him very well. But it was loud enough in saying so that Kanan, ears burning, is not feeling especially grateful.

"So. Uh. I'm coming out now, I guess. Tell me what you think?"

And he emerges from behind the curtain, dressed in what are certainly not un-fancy duds.

The droid continues to flit around Kanan to smooth down his pant legs and straighten his jacket. But Hera steps forward regardless, glancing from his collar to the cuffs of his sleeves.

"Maybe we could find some red cufflinks," she says, reaching out to smooth down his cuffs herself.

"But I think it looks good. You'll fit in but not be too noticeable."

Kanan's shoulders relax as he sighs in relief.

"That sounds great, honestly. Uh. The part about fitting in, not -- though the red cufflinks are a good idea."

For verisimilitude.

And, a little more awkwardly --

"You really like it?"

"Sure."

She looks up from his cuffs. "I'm not complaining about seeing you, um -"

Um. "A little more - formal than usual."

Kanan's ears are pink again, and there may be a tinge of high color to his cheekbones, as well.

"Oh. Well, you know. I'll . . . uh. I'll keep that in mind."

For future jobs. Yes. definitely that.

There's a brief, awkward silence, soon interrupted by -

"If you like, sir," the small droid is tugging at Kanan's pantleg. "I'll get you out of these clothes, and prepare them for purchase."

Hera smiles up at Kanan, and takes a slow step back again.

Don't leave me say Kanan's eyes, but the little droid look so pathetically hopeful that Kanan can't make himself be brusque.

"Uh. Sure. Preparing the clothes for purchase sounds great. You can hold these as I, uh. Take them off."

His cheeks and ears are a bit more red than pink as he ducks back behind the curtain, batting the droid's pincers away as he starts pulling off the jacket. "No, no, I've got this. Really. You just hold -- yes. Thank you."

"As sir requests! Thank you for shopping at Yteraud's Fine Clothing Emporium. I'll get sir's things boxed up and ready for purchase at the front counter. Once sir finishes removing them, of course."

The droid's voice is prim, and Kanan can already tell that if he doesn't hurry up it's going to start trying to help him out of his pants again.

"Right! Right. Here you go, let me just -- uh. Put my own stuff back on. You go -- do your thing. Thanks."

Everything's just fine in here!

It at least sounds like there's not too much of a scuffle, before the little droid appears from out behind the curtain with the chosen clothing hanging from one lifted pincer arms. The droid rolls out of the dressing room hall, presumably toward the cashier.

Hera watches this departure, then turns her attention back to the curtain. "I think those are popular among the rich on some worlds."

"Why?" is the only thing Kanan can think to ask, taking another few seconds to compose himself and straighten out his hair before he emerges from behind said curtain.

"I really don't understand the draw. Can't they dress themselves? Is it the little sad sad to the droid's carriage when you don't let them put your shirt on?"

Not that that happened to Kanan, except . . . Hera totally heard it happen to Kanan.

Dammit.

"Maybe it's a sign of wealth to have a droid just to do something you could easily do yourself."

Still, she steps forward, and puts a hand on his shoulder. "You ready?"

The hard part might be over, but Hera's still wincing internally when she thinks of the credits they're about to spend.

"Makes sense for the rich, as much as anything's ever going to."

Which is to say, basically not at all, up to and including the sheer pointless expense of fine clothing that is probably half as durable as regular clothing but also costs twice as much. At least.

But the mission requires it, and what they do is important, so --

He musters up a quick grin for Hera.

"I'm ready."

"Don't worry," she says, taking the lead back into the shop.

"After this it's just shoes."

Kanan stops dead in the middle of the store.

"I need new shoes?"

How's he even going to have the time to break them in before the party?

Hera shrugs.

"Do you want to go to a party in combat boots?"

"I'm gonna guess the right answer isn't 'yes', is it?"

Well, at least he has a little bit of time to figure out how to run in semi-slippery dress shoes.

"This'll be over soon, dear."

She's not rolling her eyes. Very much.

"Yeah, well. As long as we get where we're going safely, I'm not gonna complain too much."

He caught that eyeroll.

"From here on out."

"If it makes you feel better," she says, glancing back to him as they approach the cashier, "I won't hold you to that."

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notallofus - 2019-06-09 02:54 (UTC) - Expand

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