Victor follows behind, mesmerized by the wide variety of items.
Leo stops in the center and spins around with his arms wide. “Welcome to our first stop of this long journey that you are starting. This isMagi Scriptor Sartor. A Magician’s Tailor. This is where all people of magic shop for their outfits.”
Leo tugs at the lapels of his jacket. “This is where I got my suit. And this is where we will have one tailored specifically for you. There are several tailor shops like this around the world, but I like coming here more. They always have the latest fabrics that help enhance our magic.” As Leo mentions magic, he flicks his wrist, and a ball of blue fire appears in his hand.
Victor stares in awe, mesmerized by the flicker of the blue flame. “So, is your specialty fire?”
Leo grins as he lightly spins the ball of flame. “Yes, and I can also manipulate water. I’ve also done some dabbling in Air and Earth Magic. I’m not fully versed in other avenues, but I keep trying.” Leo flicks the fireball over to a rack of jackets, and the ball extinguishes once it hits the jackets. “See? These fabrics help protect us from Fire Magic. Fire Magic is a very popular and powerful specialty. So, the elders and superiors of many covens wanted to ensure that what we wore could protect us from it.”
Victor examines some shirts next to him. “These feel as smooth as silk.”
Leo takes a sleeve and slowly feels along the length. “And they breathe like Egyptian cotton,” Leo drops the sleeve andcircles the rack. “You could be in a full suit in the middle of the Sahara and not overheat. What’s also fascinating is that you can be stranded in the Arctic and not get frostbite. Our suits are fashionable and durable.”
Victor looks around and notices Madame Jeanette walking a few aisles away. She smiles when she spots them and starts walking over. She is wearing dark plum-colored slacks and a matching jacket, with a cream-colored blouse.
“Madame Jeanette, you look different,” Victor says when she arrives.
“I clean up good, no?” Madame Jeanette responds. She gives each of them a double-cheek kiss. “I am happy to see you here, chéri. I was beginning to worry that you were not going to come. Have you been fitted for your suit yet?”
“He hasn’t,” Leo answers. “We just arrived, and I’m showing him around.”
“Very good. Whatever you do, avoid Monsieur Clarence. They can be pretty intense.” She gives Victor an air kiss on the cheek, “Au Revoir, chéri.”
When Madame Jeanette turns and leaves, a flamboyant individual walks in their direction. “Looks like she jinxed us,” Leo mentions as he notices them.
“Who is he?” Victor inquires.
Leo’s focus remains on the person approaching them. “That is Monsieur Clarence. Andtheyhave been expecting you.”
Clarence has a fire in their step as if walking down a runway. They are wearing black with white pinstripe slacks, a powder-pink cummerbund around their waist, and a white shirt with frills at the cuffs and down the middle. A tomato pincushion is around their wrist, and a tape measure hangs around their neck like an open tie.
Clarence has little makeup on, but it is still noticeable. Their eyes give zero fucks at what you think because they know theylook good. They stop three feet away from Victor, cross their arms, and place an index finger at the corner of their mouth. Clarence lightly purses their lips and studies Victor.
Victor holds out his hand, “Hello, I’m Victor Russo. I understand you are Clarence.”
Clarence doesn’t speak immediately, but they look at Victor, which feels almost judgmental. Victor slowly lowers his hand back to his side, pondering what Clarence is thinking about him.
“Strip,” Clarence finally says in their Essex accent.
“Excuse me?” Victor asks with some confusion.
“Strip,” Clarence orders.
Victor looks over at Leo, who shrugs his shoulders.
“Hello, I’m over here,” Clarence demands while snapping their fingers. “Don’t look at him; look at me.”
Victor directs his response to Leo, “She wasn’t kidding about them being intense.”
“Are you going to remove your clothes, or will I have to do it for you?” Clarence says aggressively.
“Okay, okay,” Victor responds as he slowly pulls his shirt over his head.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Clarence pulls Victor’s shirt off and throws it on the floor beside them. They take a few steps back, puts hands on hips, and look up and down at Victor’s bare torso. “Very good. Now, the pants.”
“I’m sorry?” Victor interjects.
“Pants, now,” Clarence demands once more.
