The Perfect Companion

Vilo was sitting in the shade, lounging in a straw chair as he sipped down a fruit concoction out of a wine goblet. It had been a slow day. Not that he was annoyed. That was his sister's disposition and luckily, Mira wasn't there. So, why not enjoy life a little and take it slow, if everyone in Lenore had decided that they didn't need fabric, or dwarfish wine, or whatever random flavors of the day they were carrying that month?

He took another long swig, smacking his lips as he fell deep into thought. It was in quiet times such as these that he realized how everyone around him worked too much. Hustling and bustling their short lives away, trading something as precious as time for something as finite as money. It was almost painful to watch. Especially since he wasn't a human.

No, he was an elf. And he had a lot more time to enjoy the peace and tranquility- Someone with a little more wisdom and a lot more sense would have found it comical just how fast that goblet and those thoughts went flying the moment Vilo spotted Simon Hart.

"Ahhh! My best customer! How are you doing, today, my friend? Can I get you anything? Looking for a fine fabric to weave into a suit for a customer, I presume?"

The man, who had already begun thumbing through the reels of fabric, paused at that last line, before getting lost in a realm of thought all his own. Vilo patiently waited for the conclusion with a growing fascination. Simon had never failed to go off on a tangent, describing what he needed and why. This time was.. different, somehow.

Finally, the tailor turned to look up at him with an expression he had never seen on a man so matter of fact. It looks almost.. shyly miffed? He suppressed a snort of amusement. That was a cute face. It took a special set of circumstances to make a personality so solemn and so serious develop something like this; or a special SOMEONE.

"Vilo."

His attention whipped back to the man in front of him, knowing the payoff was nigh.

"Yes?"

"I'm not here to shop for cloth to make an outfit for someone else."

"No?" the elf said with a shake of his head and wide eyes full of interest.

"No. I'm here to buy material to make something.. for myself."

Vilo's mouth hung open for a moment, before he a sly expression snuck onto his handsome features.

"So, who's the lucky gentleman?"

"V-Vilo!"

"What?"

"I am building a suit for myself to go to a gala to network! Nothing more, nothing less!"

"Oh, I see."

"That's right!"

"Then which gentleman invited you?"

Simon narrowed his eyes at the other man, before making for the exit in furious strides with a fretting Vilo following right after. Which didn't take a lot of effort from the elf, admittedly. It wasn't hard catching up to this little fireball, considering how much longer his legs were.

"Oh, come on! You spill the beans with Mira!-"

"That's MIRA. She's good at keeping secrets. Whereas, you're the town gossip, Vilo! And since you can't keep your mouth shut, I'll be taking my business, elsewhere!"

"Oh, come now!" he tried again, "I'll make it worth your while!"

Simon was almost to the tent flap. Vilo's lavender eyes widened, seeing his window of opportunity closing. This was his last chance! So, he pulled out his secret weapon!

"I'll give you ten percent off!"

That shout seemed to freeze the tailor in place. Simon paused for a moment, before sighing and hanging his head in defeat. The elf smirked; it worked every time. So predictable! Or was he?

"I'll shop here. I'll even 'spill the beans', as you so crassly put it."

Simon whipped around and pointed at Vilo with an intensity he so rarely showed, as he shouted with all of the conviction rivaling that of an angel bargaining for a mortal's soul, "For no less than fifteen percent off!"

Vilo grabbed at his chest, like an arrow had been shot through it.

"Egad! That's a big discount! But, you know what? You've got me, sir! I want all of your juicy secrets and I want them now! So, I'll give you your fifteen percent discount!"

He looped an arm around Simon's shoulders and casually lead him back into the shop.

"Eh, but we aren't going to tell Mira about that, are we?"

"Hmph. Don't push me."

An hour later, Vilo leaned on a display, peering at the annoyed tailor with a goofy look that the other man just couldn't stand, as he considered the forbidden romance that unfolding before his very eyes.

"Our local, hot-headed, gentlemanly tailor and the mysterious, vampire-noble stranger. Heh, someone should write a book about this!"

"That's all well and good, but all the books in the world aren't going to help me find the right fabric for this event."

Vilo sighed, before pushing off of the stone object and sauntering over, understanding that his time to be a satisfactory shop owner had come.

"Well, what exactly are you looking for? Lay it on me! I'm all ears!"

Simon paused yet again, before shaking his head.

"I'm drawing a blank. I normally have an idea in mind, right from the start. But, this time, nothing."

"Ooo, yeah," the elf said, pushing some stray locks out of his face, "That right there might be a problem. Well, here's an idea. Tell me what the other gentleman is wearing."

"We're not back on that again, are we? Who invited me to the gala is of no consequence!"

"Oh, come on!" he said, drawing out the last word with a roll of his eyes, "You keep saying that, but every time I bring it up, you get all blushy, like a maiden that I invited out for dinner! And before you even ask, yeah, I knew it was a gentleman that turned your head, because you've never, not in all my time of knowing you, EVER took an interest in any of a woman's fine features! Not even when a lady walked right by you with the biggest melons I had EVER had the pleasure of laying eyes on! I saw them later and let me just say that the corset she was wearing really didn't do them any justice-"

"Vilo!" he exclaimed in a chastising tone, "You have no respect for women!"

"What? I have plenty of respect! I always pay for dinner when I invite them out!"

The tailor busied himself with the fabric in front of him. There was no getting through to him. Vilo was a womanizing pig through and through. But, he might have been onto something. Alabaster was the one who had invited him to the gala. He would be the man at his side, when he walked into the event. So, it would be in his best interest if his suit he wore looked like it at least belonged in the same arena as Alabaster's, right?

And as if kissed by the lips of providence, itself, that's when his fingers brushed against an almost stiff texture. His eyes widened as he brought it out, surveying a large swatch of white, linen fabric. Vilo gave a low whistle.

"Ahhh. The fabric you bought from me to make that guy's suit was Specter's Revenge Silk, right? You know what they say; linen is a silk's best friend!"

That saying was unbelievably corny, but it also hit the nail on the head. Linen and silk were often paired together, because they didn't conflict. And white would go with the barely there, mist-like, blue quality of the suit he had crafted for the other man. Not to mention, it would go with his hat, which he never left home without. A few bronze buttons thrown into the mix and some gloves and-

"Simon?"

"Hm?"

"You were talking to yourself and I got a little worried. Ha, you've been staring at that fabric for at least ten minutes. Is that the one you're getting?"

Linen with silk, stiff with airy, structured with flowy. Yes, it all went together. The perfect match. The suit he would craft for himself with this material would make the perfect companion piece! So, he looked up into the elf's eyes with conviction as he said,

"I'll take it."

"Good choice," Vilo smirked.

"But, you're still giving me that discount."

The other man blinked, before groaning and whining about how his sister was going to kill him, which only made the victory of finding the right fabric that much sweeter. Still, he did have to blush and frown as he wondered if he was making a big mistake. A gala was no place for a commoner like him. People like himself were meant to serve the upper class and stay out of their way, not attend one of their beautiful, exclusive parties.

'So, what say you, Simon Hart? Will you be my date?'

Emerald eyes widened as he remembered those words. He folded the fabric in his arms and sighed. He could still recall the sight of it. How those beautiful, crystal-blue eyes sparkled as he had said yes. That smile of his. That kiss to the top of one of his hands. It all made his heart beat so much faster. The tailor bit his lip hard, his hands quivering with determination.

"Fuck societal norms," he whispered harshly under his breath.

He was going to that party, come Hell or high water!