“Red needs new duds. Got anything in his size?”
Ari stiffened as they both studied him, Sally’s eyes traveling over him in the same way Orin’s often did. He surreptitiously considered Orin’s eyes, dark in the shadow of his browbone as his teeth pulled at the corner of his bottom lip, making Ari fidget.
Well, not precisely in the same way.
Sally nodded decisively, gesturing Ari closer with a broad motion of her arm.
“I bet I do. Come on, sugar. Let’s get you fixed up too.”
Ari followed her back through a faded yellow curtain behind the counter as Orin made a shooing motion with his fingers.
Sally bustled around the small stockroom, pulling down boxes here and there and laying them out on a rickety table in the center of the room.
She squinted at Ari’s shoulders before putting one box back and pulling another, dropping it on the table with a wink.
“Alright, here’s all I got. Give it a try, and come out when you’re decent.”
She breezed out through the curtain before Ari could reply, left alone with the muffled sound of her continued conversation with Orin and the boom of his answering laugh.
Ari turned reluctantly to the boxes, opening one with trepidation.
He was relieved to find the shirt clean and pressed. It was unbleached ecru linen with odd striations of darker and lighter fibers, collarless in the style favored by Orin. Ari mused that perhaps this style was au courant on the Verge.
He checked around before stripping down to his undergarments, then slipped the shirt over his head. It was a decent fit, if a tad more billowy than he would have favored. The other boxes contained close-fitting brown canvas trousers, a double-breasted waistcoat of the same fabric, and brown leather boots that laced to the knee with copper eyelets.
Ari still felt exposed without a collar or cravat and walked out from behind the curtain with one hand hovering over the hollow of his throat.
Sally and Orin both turned to watch him, something unpleasant swooping in his belly at the way she rested her hand on Orin’s arm like it belonged there.
Ari cleared his throat. “I believe these garments will prove sufficient.”
Sally’s peel of surprised laughter struggled out from behind the fingers she clamped over her mouth as soon as Ari opened his.
Orin nudged her shoulder, echoing amusement sketched across his face.
That swooping feeling in Ari’s gut began to thicken and solidify until he felt like he had swallowed rocks. He stared down at the toe of his boots, hand fluttering between covering his throat and his mouth.
Sally stepped closer, laughter fading away. “I’m sorry, it’s just, we don’t get many folks round here that talk like you. Sound like some kinda fairytale prince, don’t you, hon?”
Ari had no response to that, stiffening as she approached.
She studied him up and down with one hand on her hip, then twirled the index finger of her other hand in the air over her head.
“Give us a spin; let me take a gander at you.”
Ari turned slowly, face burning with a flush creeping over the back of his neck as he sensed their scrutiny on his back.
He tilted his head over his shoulder at Sally surveying the lines of the waistcoat across his back. Orin’s gaze had fallen lower, darting away and drifting to the ceiling when Ari caught him, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets.
Sally bustled past Ari, slipped behind the curtain, and emerged almost immediately with something the color of rust dangling from her fingers.
She approached Ari like an old friend, reaching up to loop it over the back of his head and then tying a simple knot at the base of his throat with a decisive nod.
“There you go, sugar. An ascot oughta make you a little more comfortable.”
Ari reached up to finger the knot, shoulders relaxing even though it exposed far more of his throat than would have been appropriate back home. He finally felt dressed, at least.
He turned to Orin, who was still chewing on his lip, eyes roaming Ari from the mussed top of his head to the thick heel of his boots.
Ari startled as Sally’s thin fingers began to work on the buttons of his waistcoat, sending him stumbling backward in shock.
“I. I don’t. What do you think you are doing?”
She lifted her hands, stepping away with a soft laugh. “Just need your vest to make some alterations, show off that trim little waist of yours the way it deserves.”
Sally peered over Ari’s shoulder at Orin. “Why don’t you head on to the docks? I’ll send my man down to get you fixed up while I help out your sweetie here.”
“I beg your pardon?” Ari sputtered. “I am not his—”
Orin walked over and opened the door, throwing his words over his shoulder. “Sounds good, Sal. Red’ll pick up the bill.”
The door clanging shut behind him seemed to ring across the space as Ari was left staring at Sally, who drew near with a serene smile, holding out her hand expectantly.
“Vest, please.”
Ari went to work on the copper-rimmed buttons and passed the waistcoat over without meeting Sally’s eye.
She took it behind the counter, then bent to rummage through something that sounded like a metal box full of other, smaller metal boxes, raising her voice to carry over the sound.
“Y’all haven’t been together for long, then?”
Ari approached the counter, arms crossed over his chest, feeling altogether far too exposed.
“I’m afraid you appear to be laboring under a misapprehension, Miss Mudd.”
Sally’s head popped up, strands of hair escaping from her roll at an alarming rate, waistcoat draped over a small metal box in her arms.
She plopped the box on the counter. After turning the waistcoat wrong-side out, she pulled a needle from the box and considered her limited thread selection. She tilted her head before plucking a card wrapped in a length of brown thread with a satisfied nod.
Sally peeked up at Ari after threading the needle, eyes dancing. “I could just listen at you all day, you sound that pretty.”
She lay the needle on top of the waistcoat, turned to lift an ancient pad from the counter, and held it over her head in both hands before bringing it down on the counter with a bang. Then, she repeated the procedure twice more before the screen blinked to life, and proceeded to tap her fingers rapidly across.
She tossed it to the side when she was done, returning to her needle and focusing on a seam.
“There now, Jeb’ll have your ship fixed up in no time at all. I believe you were about to tell me all about how you started up with Orin Stone, weren’t you, hon?”
Ari tore his attention away from the battered pad, projections still blinking in and out across the cracked screen.
He regarded the top of Sally’s head, clearing his throat.
“Mr. Stone and I have recently entered into a partnership in an exploratory venture.”
Sally’s grin started in her eyes as they flicked up at Ari, spreading across her cheeks before lifting the corners of her mouth. “That what they’re calling it up in the Core, nowadays?”
Ari bristled, straightening his shirt cuffs with small, sharp movements. “It is purely a business venture, I assure you.”
To call the expression on Sally’s face skeptical would have been to call the expanse of the deep dark “big.”
She snorted daintily, fingers flying across the seam of the waistcoat. “I’m sorry; I know it’s none of mine, but you’re just his type, is all.” She graced him with a restrained smirk. “And don’t try and tell me he ain’t yours. I gave you that ascot to mop up the drool.”