Chapter Text
The shopping district of Agwè bustled with people window shopping and running errands. chatter and distant jazz filling the air as Kremy forced his way through the crowds. Gideon followed easily behind him. People were much more willing to move out of your way when you were almost seven feet tall and on fire.
“What’re you even lookin’ for right now?” he asked, catching Kremy by the hand so they wouldn’t be separated.
Kremy had sent the other fellas off on a grocery run, handing Frost the long list before dragging Gideon off on their own errand. Gideon really hoped the others were picking up the fixings for gumbo.
“There we go,” Kremy said, ignoring Gideon’s question in favor of pulling him towards a shop whose window contained several clothing displays.
“You need new clothes?” Gideon asked.
“You need new clothes,” Kremy replied, flicking Gideon lightly on the leg with the tip of his tail.
“What? What’s wrong with my clothes?”
Kremy shot him a dubious look. “Do ya really want me to answer that?”
Gideon huffed.
“Besides. I’m not lettin’ ya wear your ratty ass henley to a fuckin’ funeral, Gid.”
The bell above the shop door gave a cheery ring as Kremy ducked inside, dragging Gideon, grumbling, behind him. Clothing of all sorts hung on racks dotting the shop floor, and a young employee waved at them from where she was sitting behind the register. Kremy made a beeline towards the formal wear.
The group had escaped the feywild, leaving behind shenanigans and things they likely wouldn’t speak of just in time to inform Roslof of his patron’s safety before he kicked the bucket. Still, his passing left them all with a fairly sizable fortune now, so Kremy had figured the least they could do was shell out for a decent funeral for the guy.
“He’s not gonna care what I’m wearin’, he’s dead!” Gideon said, watching Kremy sort through the clothing on display, searching for something in Gideon’s size.
“Quit your complainin’ and go try these on,” Kremy said, plucking several items of clothing from the rack and thrusting them into Gideon’s arms, nudging him towards the changing room.
Gideon stomped off, muttering something under his breath. Kremy watched him go, enjoying the view.
“You’d think I was askin’ him to clean the outhouses at the carnival,” Kremy said to himself, idly searching through the racks of clothing as he waited for Gideon to change. He grabbed a few ties of varying colors to offer to Gideon later, when his attention caught on his reflection in a mirror a few feet away.
He frowned, humming in quiet disapproval as he tugged at and adjusted his suit. Not that it needed to be adjusted, of course– he had shelled out all the gold necessary to ensure it was tailored to him perfectly. He had an image to uphold, afterall. But something about it was off, the image of him in the same suit he always wore suddenly not quite right. The dissonance clawed at his mind like a cat trapped in a box.
Just one of those days.
Those Days– which he had dubbed them whenever he forgot that he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about it– had been cropping up more frequently since they had escaped the feywild. You had more time to think about things you rather wouldn’t when a hundred-thousand gold piece debt to the most dangerous man in Agwè wasn’t hanging over your head, he supposed as he wiped off his drawn-on mustache. It had been smudged at some point during the day. Probably Gideon’s fault. He reached into his pocket for his eye pencil to redraw it, when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, making him pause.
A mannequin stood off to the side, draped in an opulent satin fabric, a deep burgundy wine color that shimmered in the dim light of the shop. It was quite possibly the most gorgeous dress Kremy had ever seen, with a high neckline and a sensual slit running up the side– high and teasing in a way he knew would drive Gid crazy.
His mind drifted to Guys’ Night and the outfits he’d worn as Stiletta and Silhouette. There was something so exciting about getting to dress up and do drag. He’d always had a flare for the dramatics, but in that getup, everything felt heightened. Despite the struggle of learning to walk in heels, it all felt so right– the performance, the lights catching the sequins of his dress, the loud pulse of the music mixing with the cheers of the audience. And of course there was how good it felt to get all dolled up.
Ironically, of course.
Glancing around to see if anyone was watching him, he made his way carefully over to the mannequin. The dress was somehow even more beautiful up close. He could see now the lace detailing on the hem of the skirt, the simple rose embroidery around the neckline, the corset boning at the waist. It laced up in the back– perfect to give his scutes some room to breathe. Reaching out, he skimmed his fingers over the smooth fabric, delighting in its texture.
So easily could Kremy imagine himself wearing the dress– maybe for another Guys’ Night.
Or maybe just out. With a pair of heels and jewelry, a necklace draping down his chest and rings dazzling on his fingers. He could drag Gid to a fancy restaurant, force him to wear a suit. Afterall, they were rich now. They could afford a bit of indulgence.
He could imagine the way Gideon would look at him, too, from across the table, candlelight reflecting in his eyes, all hungry fire and burning desire. Like he couldn’t wait to get home and get Kremy out of that dress.
And maybe the waiter would refer to Kremy as ma’am, call him Gideon’s wife. People had such difficult times telling with lizardfolk. And wasn’t that an exciting thought, getting to put on a character and pretend? It all seemed so much more appealing than what he was wearing now.
Maybe… maybe he could just try it on…
“ ‘S a real pretty dress.”
“Gid!” Kremy yelped, whipping around to face the fire genasi, and pulling his hand from the dress like it had burned him. He was grateful he couldn’t blush as he scolded, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Sorry, man,” Gideon said, grinning, clearly amused at having startled the warlock. “D’ya wanna try on the dress?”
Panic flared up in Kremy as he suddenly wondered how long he had been staring for Gideon to notice. Embarrassment churned in the pit of his stomach. What had he even been thinking? Of course Guys’ Night had been fun, it was ironic. Just a joke. The drag was ironic. He couldn’t just dress up like that to a nice restaurant. He didn’t want to be called ’ma’am’.
Quickly, he schooled his expression to one of indifference and scoffed, doing his best to make it seem as though Gideon hadn’t just caught him in the midst of daydreaming about wearing a dress. “Of course not.” He waved a clawed hand dismissively. “Just thinkin’ about how much we might be able to upcharge it for.”
Gideon raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
“Lemme see how the suit fit ya,” Kremy deflected, snatching the bundle of Gideon’s clothing from his arms to get a better look, changing the subject and steering the conversation away from the dress as casually as he could.
It worked, much to his relief. Gideon grimaced, tugging at the shoulders of the suit jacket that were clearly too tight.
Hm. Well, nothing a bit of tailoring couldn’t fix.
“Do I really gotta wear this, Krem? I don’t see why we’re makin’ such a fuss about some dead guy.”
“That dead guy’s the reason we’re rich. Least you can do is dress up nice to his funeral,” Kremy said, holding up the different ties to see what matched the best. “Now go change back into your clothes so we can pay. The fellas should be finishin’ up with that grocery list soon assumin’ Gricko hasn’t derailed everything.”
As Gideon made his way back to the changing rooms, Kremy turned back to the mirror, pulling out his eye pencil and drawing his moustache back on. And if his heart ached in the direction of the dress, then no one needed to know.
~~~
“Oi! Kremy, Gideon! Over ‘ere!”
The two looked over at the sound of Gricko’s shouting as they stepped out of the clothing store, Gideon carrying the bag with his new suit.
Gricko was sat atop Hootsie’s back, Frost and Torbek following close behind. Each carried several bags of groceries with them. Torbek had been stuck with the bulk of it, and was struggling to see over everything in his arms.
“Whattado, fellas, find everything okay?” Kremy asked, falling in step with them.
Frost nodded. “Of course. Though we did have to keep Gricko from attempting to free the caged animals at one stall.”
“Those cages were too small, Frosty!” Gricko protested, twisting around to face Frost. “There oughta be laws about fings like that!”
“Well, then why don’t you put that poli-sci degree to use,” Kremy suggested, taking the bag with the clothing from Gideon so he could help Torbek out.
Gricko’s eyes lit up as he launched into a tirade about what he’d learned in goblin college while obtaining his degree, Frost nodding along and commenting here and there. Disinterested, Kremy turned his attention to the different shops lining the thoroughfare and the patrons going in and out of them. The town, a few hours outside of Agwè, attracted all sorts of people looking to escape both the isolation of the more rural surroundings and the bustling city life. It had become Kremy’s preferred place to run errands as well as people watch.
A group of women in their equivalent-of-Sunday best exited a charming little bookstore, chattering excitedly about their purchases, stacked high in their arms. A man checked his fancy pocket watch before stepping into a nondescript building. A fortune teller called out to passersby from her stall on a street corner, offering predictions of future love and riches.
“Hey, look, Frosty. You should go challenge her to a duel of psychic wits,” Gideon said, elbowing the tabaxi in the side with a chuckle.
“I would most assuredly win,” Frost intoned, hardly sparing the woman a glance.
“We used to make a killin’ off your fake fortunes at the Carnivàle,” Kremy mused, thinking fondly back on the profits from Carnivàle Lecroux’s first and highly illegal iteration.
“Yes. People are surprisingly gullible when it comes to their futures.”
“Frost’s fortunes were fake?” Torbek asked, sounding devastated.
“Of course. My psychic abilities don’t include predictions.”
“But Frost told Torbek he would find his true love!”
Gideon barked out a laugh, earning a pitiful whine from Torb
“Don’t worry, Torbek,” Gricko chimed in. “It could still be true, you just hafta keep looking!”
Torbek grumbled something inaudible.
“Whateva happened to Clementine?”
“We… were no longer compatible,” Torbek answered after a pause.
“Man, what did you do to that cardboard cutout?” Gideon asked, sounding mildly horrified.
“If Gideon must know–”
“That was a rhetorical question, Torbek,” Kremy interrupted. “Please do not tell us.”
Suddenly, Gricko cooed loudly, pointing at an elven woman and her young daughter who wore a frilly little dress. “Oh, Hootsie! Lookit her liddle dress! We should get you one’a those!’
Hootsie made a sound like she did not share the sentiment, and in fact detested the very idea.
“Oh, don’ complain, it’s very stylish,” Gricko insisted. “Me mum used’ta dress me up in dresses like that all’a the time. ‘Course I neva liked ‘em, but that was before I knew I was a boy.”
Kremy thought back to his childhood in Whipperwallow Swamp, remembering the way he’d always envied the little girls his age in their frocks. Kermy, as older siblings were wont to do, picked up on this immediately and tormented him relentlessly for it. This was before their father had walked out on them, and when he caught wind of what was going on Kremy soon got a wooden spoon to the backs of his hands and a stern talking to.
“I won’t be having any of that sissy shit under my roof, ya hear?”
Kremy had immediately tried to forget about ever wanting to wear a dress– was still actively trying not to think about it as his thoughts strayed back to the clothing shop.
“Mr Kremy! Look!”
Kremy was snapped out of his thoughts by Torbek, who was pointing to a storefront.
“Can we go in?”
“What?” Kremy looked to where Torbek was pointing, seeing a candy store, windows displaying a machine pulling a large bundle of saltwater taffy. “No, we don’t need that shit.”
“Aww, please, Kremy?” Gricko asked, turning large puppy dog eyes on him, Torbek following suit.
“Y’all are not nearly as cute as you think you are.”
“Torbek wants licorice! Please, Mr Kremy?”
“They don’t sell that there– not the kind that you want, anyways,” Kremy said, waving him off.
“Aw, c’mon, Krem,” Gideon said, sidling up next to him. “A little candy never hurt nobody.”
Kremy narrowed his eyes at Gideon, glaring at him for a moment before rolling his eyes with a resigned sigh. “Alright.”
Gricko and Torbek cheered, rushing over to the shop, Hootsie twittering excitedly as she followed behind them. Even Frost seemed pleased as they stepped through the doors of the candy store.
A wall of sugary sweet scent hit Kremy immediately as he crossed the threshold of the shop, licorice, taffy, chocolate, and hard candy intermingling in the air and filling his senses. The shelves were lined with countless jars of different types of candies, all different shapes, sizes and colors.
The Krew wandered the aisles, each searching for their preferred candies, chattering amongst themselves, Torbek bemoaning the fact that they didn’t carry the licorice he liked. They’d have to look for a hardware store for that. Gideon grinned as he located a jar of spicey, cinnamon flavored sweets.
“Alright fellas, get what ya like,” Kremy said, making his way towards the back of the shop where he noticed a case containing different types of fudge.
The man behind the counter smiled as Kremy approached, the shop owner probably. “See anything you like? I can get you a sample if you want to try anything.”
Well, Kremy was never one to pass up free things.
“Whaddya got there, darlin’?” Gideon asked, joining Kremy at the counter with a bag of cinnamon candies. He bumped their hips affectionately.
“Mm! Gid, try this one,” Kremy said, holding out a little wooden spoon with rich fudge.
Gideon hummed appreciatively at the flavor. “You should get summa that.”
The shopkeeper waved as they left, each digging into their purchase. Frost and Torbek debated which kind of licorice was best, and Gricko took Torbek’s side of the argument, if only to get a rise out of Frost. Gideon hung behind to walk next to Kremy, nudging him goodnaturedly with his shoulder as he caught Kremy smiling.
“Goin’ soft on us?” he asked, grinning.
“Shut up, Gid.”
~~~
Kremy stirred the pot of stew he was making for dinner, eyeing Torbek nervously as he cut up more vegetables with his long, knife-like fingers. “Careful not to get any witchlight in those,” he warned. “We don’t need anyone becomin’ a proud nudist or gettin’ haunted by clowns, ya hear?”
Torbek gave a hum of acknowledgement, slowing his movements to be extra careful.
“Can’t believe you’re lettin’ him help in the kitchen,” Gideon murmured, amused, coming up behind Kremy to grab him by the waist.
“Yeah, well. Those knife hands of his come in handy. Means less washin’ up. And I made sure he washed ‘em before touchin’ the food,” Kremy replied, leaning back into Gideon’s chest.
“Y’got fed up with him beggin’?”
“ ‘Course I did.”
Kremy smiled as Gideon dropped a kiss on the top of his head, swatting his hand away from the spoon as he tried to steal a taste. Since returning from the feywild, things had become almost sickeningly domestic. Roslof’s house– now their house– was large enough to comfortably accommodate the whole Krew and give them each enough space to where Kremy no longer wanted to kill Gricko every second of the day. The large bathtub in his and Gideon’s ensuite was also a positive.
The fortune they’d inherited had left them incredibly well-off. The debt to Garou had hardly made a dent in their funds, left with enough for the five of them to live more than comfortably without working for the rest of their lives. Despite that, however, the Witchlight Carnival had inspired something in Kremy, and he had convinced the others to agree to reopening a new and improved Carnivàle Lecroux. No more IOUs, no more charging for ice (still plenty of rigged games, but what carnival would be complete without rigged games?), just good old-fashioned honest work. Who would have thought?
Kremy hummed happily as Gideon kissed him again, letting his tail curl loosely around Gideon’s leg.
That was another thing that had drastically improved from before the feywild, Kremy thought, as he twisted around in Gideon’s grip to plant a proper kiss on his lips.
To say things between him and Gideon were complicated before was a bit of an understatement. Their will-they-won’t-they friends with benefits situation had quickly unraveled when Kremy realized he had fallen in love with Gideon at their second wedding (he still liked to count the impulsive one in Fantasy Las Vegas, even if the alcohol had turned all of their memories of it fuzzy and unclear).
From there it had only become more complicated, what with the fey curses and pixie wives, and the fact that the marriage was ‘ironic’ and an accident. Somewhere along the way, however, it had become increasingly evident that Gideon returned his feelings, and so, after being pushed by the rest of the Krew to actually have a conversation with each other, they agreed to make their marriage officially unironic.
“Um, Mr Kremy?” Torbek coughed awkwardly. “Torbek thinks the stew is burning…”
“Fuck!” Kremy quickly pulled away from Gideon, frantically stirring the pot before it became inedible. “Get outta the kitchen, Gid, you’re distractin’ me!”
Gideon chuckled as Kremy swatted him away with his tail, leaving to go help Frost set the table.
“Cut it out wiv the pee-dee-ay,” Gricko protested, covering Hootsie’s eyes, who cooed in protest. “There’re little eyes ‘ere!” He laughed as Kremy shot him a withering look, though, if he was being honest with himself– which he usually wasn’t– he and Gideon had maybe been a bit insufferable since finally getting all their shit together.
After years of desperate pining he deserved an obnoxious honeymoon phase. Sue him.
Kremy supervised as Torbek finished cutting up the remaining vegetables and sent him off to go wait with the others as Kremy finished up the stew in peace.
Loath as he was to admit it, that stupid debt was maybe the best thing to ever happen to him, if you ignored the trauma, which– he was doing his best.
Dinner was enjoyed in relative silence, broken only by the clink of spoons against bowls and the occasional attempt at small talk. Hootsie snuck her way to Kremy’s side and looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. He glanced around to make sure Gricko wasn’t watching before slipping her an extra rat snack from his apron. She was a growing girl, after all.
An unsuspecting question from Frost sent Gricko off down a long tangent about the overfishing of brown scavvers— whatever the hell those were— and Kremy took that as his cue to tune everyone out. His attention turned instead to the way Gideon’s knee bumped against his under the table.
Suddenly, Gideon’s head shot up, his eyes wide.
“Aw, shit, Krem!” Gideon exclaimed, thankfully distracting Gricko from whatever he had been saying.
“What’s wrong, Gid?” Kremy asked, startled and a bit worried.
“We forgot about the dress!”
Kremy froze, feeling distinctly like someone had just violently squeezed his heart.
“What dress?” Torbek asked, tipping his head curiously.
“This real pretty dress Kremy was lookin’ at while I was tryin’ things on.”
Kremy’s heart pounded loudly in his ears, his eyes flicking to each member of the Krew, trying to gauge what they were thinking. Oh gods, why did Gideon have to bring that up? He forced himself to relax, brain quickly racing to come up with dozens of excuses.
“I was never gonna get the dress. I was just thinkin’ about how I could con people outta their money with it,” he settled on. Good, good. That was what he had told Gideon earlier. Perfectly believable, no reason to question it.
“Are ya sure?” Gideon asked, frowning. “Just seemed like the kinda thing you’d like.”
Shit. Shit shit shit.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Kremy snapped defensively, his tail thrashing in what he hoped came off as annoyance rather than the desperation it really was.
And now Gricko was looking at Kremy with this unreadable, pensive expression on his face that could only mean trouble. Kremy purposefully did not flinch from his gaze.
“Like wiv Guys’ Night,” Gricko said, still looking at Kremy in a way that made him want to run far away from this conversation.
“Mr Kremy looked very pretty as Stiletta,” Torbek chimed in.
“Guys’ Night was ironic. We were all in drag,” Kremy insisted.
“Yeah, so there’s no reason to get your panties all in a twi– ow!” Gideon cut off as Kremy whacked him in the leg with his tail.
Across the table, Frost cleared his throat. “This stew is very good, thank you, Kremy.”
Scattered murmurs of awkward agreement sounded from around the table, everyone turning back to their bowls, and Kremy fought the urge to leap up and hug Frost for saving him from the scrutiny. Gricko stared at Kremy for a moment longer before also returning his attention to his meal.
That was… hopefully nothing.
Kremy hadn’t realized how long Gideon had watched him stare at the dress, let alone thought to be worried about him bringing it up at dinner. Now, though, he sat in silence, his thoughts and heart racing. What was everyone thinking right now? Was that conversation weird to them? Could they tell Kremy was panicking? Why did Gricko keep giving him that look like he knew something Kremy didn’t?
And what was he so anxious about? It really hadn’t meant anything. He didn’t want the dress.
Gideon reached out and placed a hand on his knee under the table, squeezing gently. “Look, I really didn’t mean anything by sayin’ you’d like the dress,” Gideon murmured quietly so that only Kremy could hear. “All I meant is that you’d look real pretty in it.”
And that was–
Hm.
Something to think about.
“ ‘S alright, Gid.”
“Listen, man, you don’t have, like, a problem with drag, do ya?” Gideon asked, looking at Kremy a bit dubiously.
Shame churned in Kremy’s stomach. “No, ‘course not. I guess I just… overreacted.”
“Alright. ‘Cuz I mean it, you’re real pretty in drag.”
Definitely something to think about.
~~~
“Where’re you goin’?” Gideon asked, looking up from Feywild Engineering for Dummies, his cute little reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.
Kremy straightened his hat and grabbed his cane. “There’s a couple things I needa pick up from town.”
Gideon bookmarked his page and closed the book. “I’ll come with.”
“No need, cher.”
Gideon frowned. “What’re you gettin’?”
“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told ya, now would it?”
Gideon’s frown deepened, but he relented, accepting a quick peck on the cheek from Kremy before he left.
Looks like Kremy would also be getting the fixings for chili to maintain the ruse.
Because truthfully, the dress had been haunting his every thought.
Every time he looked in the mirror now, he wondered what it would look like on him, how Gideon would react. It made the time he took to get ready each day significantly longer, prompting Gideon to ask him if he was feeling alright after four minutes of frowning at his own reflection.
He wasn’t sure how many more times he could brush the question off before Gid dragged him to a healer.
As much as he was embarrassed to admit it, Gideon had been right: it was the kind of thing he liked. The perfect amount of elegance, something exciting and eye-catching, something he knew he would feel at home wearing.
And Gideon had said he thought Kremy would look pretty wearing it, so.
He had tried to forget about the dress, he really had. But after it had worked its way into his dreams, he decided he needed to go back and get it, if only to try to get his mind off of it.
The trek to town was several hours, and the stretching silence paired with the slight ache of his hip made him regret not bringing Gid along, if only just a bit.
He was planning now to surprise Gideon with chili–his favorite– but maybe the dress would also be a bit of a surprise for him, too. He could test his theory of how pretty Kremy would look, and Kremy could entertain a few of his more recent fantasies.
He wasn’t sure why he was so stuck on this. It wasn’t the first time Gideon had ever complimented his appearance, and he certainly hadn’t become this obsessed before.
But that specific comment had made Kremy’s heart soar in a way he couldn’t explain, a way that was different from every other compliment. Like something about him felt a little more complete, slotting a small piece of himself back into place that he had been without for so long he had almost forgotten it was missing. Almost.
Because some days he really noticed that absence. It wasn’t just the one piece, either. He felt each and every missing piece acutely as they combined to form this gaping hole in the center of what was Kremy Lecroux, felt them like they were physical wounds. Most days it was as if those wounds had healed and scarred over; only feeling a bit odd if you prodded at them, but there all the same.
But recently something had reopened those wounds, and that dress was tearing out the stitches, unraveling his very being at the seams.
He tried not to think too hard about it.
Walking several miles by yourself made it far too easy to think about things anyway. Maybe he really should have brought Gid along.
The marketplace was less busy than it had been when the Krew had run errands earlier that week. Kremy felt significantly more vulnerable now as he walked through the mostly empty streets, unable to just disappear into the crowd. It was a lot harder to pickpocket people, too.
Not that he needed to anymore, but better to not lose the skill.
He picked up the ingredients for the chili first, eyeing the colorful trinkets and baubles being sold at surrounding carts with interest before making his way to the clothing shop.
Peering through the store’s window, he spotted the mannequin, still draped in the dress that had quickly become the bane of Kremy’s existence. It was just as stunning as it had been the first time.
A sudden relief washed over him that it hadn’t been bought yet– a miracle considering how fine a piece it was. It almost felt like fate. Not wanting to risk someone else grabbing it before he could another second, Kremy quickly ducked into the shop.
A different employee than the one the day before looked up from the sales counter as the bell above the door chimed brightly. All of Kremy’s momentary resolve quickly drained from him, nerves sending his heart into a rapid staccato as she smiled cheerily at him. What if she thought he was insane for wanting the dress? What if someone saw him here and recognized him, and it got back to the rest of the Krew? What if they found out and got mad that he had spent their money on something like this?
He tipped his hat at her in greeting before making his way over towards the dress. He tried to appear casual, like he was browsing, not quite sure what he was here for. He wandered the racks of clothing for what he deemed an appropriate amount of time before approaching the dress, glancing at the employee to make sure she wasn’t watching him.
Finally his mind could rest easy again. He wouldn’t have to think about this accursed article of clothing every second of every day. He reached a hand out to brush his fingers along the fabric almost reverently.
Looking at the price tag, he frowned. Not quite fate, then.
It appeared the shop had already beat him to conning people out of their money by jacking up the price. It was frankly an almost exorbitant amount. Not that he didn’t have the coin, of course, but it seemed silly to willingly fall prey to his own type of scheme. His anxieties regarding the Krew finding out how he was using their money returned threefold, his skin crawling at the idea of spending that much on such a frivolous purchase.
Still, price tags had never stopped Kremy from getting something he wanted before.
“Can I help you with anything?”
Kremy only just managed to keep himself from startling out of his skin as the employee seemingly materialized out of nowhere behind him. This really needed to stop happening to him.
“Yes!” he said, quickly recovering and flashing her a sharp-toothed grin. “I was lookin’ at purchasing this here dress for my wife.”
The employee raised an eyebrow skeptically at him, taking in his immaculate purple suit complete with tophat, spats, and crystal-topped cane. Admittedly not his best lie.
“Um, of course, sir. And… is your wife of a similar build to you? Would you like to try it on for her..?”
Well.
“No, but I was glancin’ at the price tag, and there’s no way you’d be willin’ to haggle on the cost at all, would ya?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Prices are fixed. Store policy.”
Plan B, then.
“Right. Well, in that case, would ya kindly take this dress off the mannequin, bag it up and hand it over, on the house. Oh, and forget you ever saw me here.”
A glassy, purple sheen overtook the employee’s eyes as the spell took hold, and Kremy grinned even wider as she mechanically nodded, moving to do as she’d been told.
Dress in hand, Kremy quickly shoved it into his bag of holding, tipping his hat to her once more before slipping out the front door. He made his way casually down the street before turning a corner and breaking into a sprint as he exited the range of the spell.
The familiar rush he got after stealing filled him as he ran, this time paired with something different. Like another one of those puzzle pieces slotting into place.