[marchesi] primum negotium // marisa

January 2004

Despite the sun having set some hours ago, the street outside Marchesi of London was bright with a wintery glow. A heavy snowfall had covered the old roads, rooftops, and everything in between with fluffy white, and it made the whole street lighter. It was cold too, frigid if you weren't wearing the proper sort of cloaks, but Reed was always prepared. Dressed to the nines in a Marchesi weatherproofed cloak and hat, the wizard ducked into the shop and shook off the cold. Carefully setting a parcel wrapped in tan paper on the side table, he kept himself busy by hanging up his cloak and hat on the rack next to the door before using a spell to dry his shoes. It was a lot warmer inside Marchesi, and Reed unbuttoned his suitcoat to make himself more comfortable.

Stepping inside, the wizard was respectful when he informed Marisa's assistant of what sort of scotch and what number cigar he'd like this evening, and then he waited. Sitting in the chair at the center of the room, he propped his foot upon his knee and arms on either side of the arms of the chair. "I've brought you a gift," Reed stated as she entered the room, and Reed's eyes raked over her. Marisa had denied every one of his advances, but that didn't mean he was going to stop trying. Reed was determined, and his dedication was something to behold.  Marisa was the only tailoress he visited anymore, which had been the case for a long time. He made an appointment monthly, and he was always on time. After returning from a trip abroad, the wizard always gifted himself with a new suit. Made of the finest materials and enchanted by Marchesi's best.

He would accept nothing less.

@Marisa Marchesi

Marisa had watched the sun set as it streamed through the windows of the Marchesi shop as she saw client after client, each appointment slot of the day had been filled. Her wand had been swishing here and there all day, getting measurements, pinning hems, showing off the latest fabrics, accioing the fresh lemon tarts her assistant had picked up just this morning from the bakery next door. She felt like she had barely a moment to breath, to think.

She rubbed at the thin golden bracelets at her wrists as she felt a light headache coming on. A side effect of wearing the bracelets that helped keep some of her visions at bay. It was a trade off that she would gladly take, until she got home and her mind filled with noise that she couldn't quite quell. Still, she had one more appointment today and she braced herself for it, knowing exactly who would be showing up any moment now, always on time.

With her riot of chestnut curls elegantly pinned back on one side with a gold and garnet hair pin, she greeted her with her patent client smile as she entered the main room, her burgundy dress dancing around her legs as she moved toward him and she felt, saw his eyes on her. She wasn't.. scared of Reed per se, but he did make her feel off-kilter sometimes, especially during times like this when he brought her things. Marisa met his gaze for a moment, noticing the way his big rings glittered on his fingers, the way the dark ink of his tattoos spoke of danger juxtaposed the way his crisp, clean suit spoke of elegance, the way he held the cigar between his fingers - always the same brand, she noted - the way he looked at her with that piercing blue gaze. She couldn't hold that stare so she flicked her caramel colored eyes down to the parcel on the table next to him and clasped her hands in front of her.

"You know I can't accept that, Reed," she said in greeting, not even wanting to unwrap it. The thought of another gift made her.. uneasy in a way she couldn't explain. He had given her gifts before, asked her to dinner before, but she was pretty sure she knew the type of man Reed was. He liked a challenge and once he succeeded, he was onto the next. And Marisa couldn't trust someone like that. Not that she'd date a client anyway. What would Moreta think? She shuddered at the thought.

So instead she gave him another smile and flicked her wand toward the backroom, her golden bracelets gleaming in the light as she took a step toward the suit that she had accioed as it floated closer.

"Don't you even want to see what it is?" The wizard countered, giving her a look that was a mix between daring and displeased. Standing up from the chair, Reed was careful to smooth his slacks before moving to collect the wrapped gift. The wrappings were plain and unassuming; the gift inside was anything but. Placing the unlit cigar on the edge of the ashtray made out of hammered copper and golden filigree, Reed picked up the gift and turned to her.

"Just open it, please," Reed was not a genuine person; he was deceptive and ambitious, and it was written all over everything he did. From the way he dressed to the swagger in his step, Reed knew how to get what he wanted, but Marisa was the exception to the rule. Despite everything that he was, Reed did have a true interest in Marisa. Perhaps it was because she was a challenge, but that didn't make a difference to the wizard. Reed had taken his time choosing this gift. He wanted her to like it, and it was evident that he would be disappointed if she refused.

Watching her in awe, the way her pristine magic floating the suit away without a wrinkle, and how her velvety dress clung to her curves, Reed licked his lips. "The suit can wait." Reed respectfully demanded; his voice was quiet, but his tone was quite clear.

Her immediate answer was no. No, she didn't want to know what the outrageously expensive gift he had brought for her was. And why would she? It's not like she could keep it. Up to this point, she had sold or pawned all the items that he had gifted her to the highest bidder, needing the cash more than she needed some token of Reed's misplaced ingenuine generosity. It felt like a game when he did things like this, and one she knew she had no chance of winning.

But that one. Marisa stilled at the command in it, the steel thread even with the 'please' tacked on. She glanced at him over her shoulder, hesitating, her eyes on the plainly wrapped gift. She knew without a doubt it was something exquisite. And that's maybe what made her even more reluctant to open it. She didn't want to know what impossibly beautiful gift he might have chosen for her, even if his intentions were.. confusing to say the least. Marisa bit her lip as she took a step closer and straightened under his gaze. She knew she could show no weakness to Reed otherwise he would strike before she even had a chance to recover.

"And if I open it?" she asked, her eyes flickering up to meet his before reaching elegant hand out to take the parcel from him, careful not to touch his skin, even with her golden bracelets on. "Then can I decline?" she asked politely as she slid her finger under an edge of the paper and lifted in, unwrapping it slowly, carefully.

Originally Reed had intended to give her a trinket box he had picked up in Damascus. It was handcrafted in the early twentieth century out of mother of pearl and gemstones, but when he saw the photograph in Beirut, he decided to save the box for another time. Reed rarely bought things from the peddlers on the street, nine out of ten sold either the same stuff or overpriced bottles of water, but this one had been different. He could tell the witch had taken the photographs herself, and the magic that bound them was breathtaking. And for some reason, the sunset reminded him of Marisa.

"If you wish." Really meant I hope that you don't, but Reed wasn't going to force her to keep it. He insisted she at least open the box, but the wizard was confident that the thoughtful gift would do the rest. Letting her grab it, Reed noticed how rigid she was in the last moment of the exchange; Marisa was the sort of woman who moved through a room like ripples in the water. She didn't disturb a thing and yet had the entire world spinning in her wake.

Reed watched in anticipation as she opened the parcel and held his hand out for the wrappings so that she could focus on the gift inside. It was simple and unassuming but quite beautiful—a magical photograph of the Raouche Rocks sunset in Lebanon. The tide slowly rolling in, Reed particularly liked how it crashed against the waves. "So, what do you think?" He asked, completely intending to put her on the spot.

His 'if you wish' was an acquiescence and still Marisa felt the undertones of it. He wanted her to accept it, she knew he did, but she didn't feel like it would set a good precedent to do so. She wondered how he would react if he knew she had sold the other items he had gifted her, using it to pay off her father's debts whenever she could. Marisa swallowed thickly, not wanting to find out, and flicked her eyes about the room, sighing a little in relief as she noted her assistant was off doing something else. No one here to witness her accepting gifts from clients when she shouldn't be and somehow reporting that back to the Marchesis in Neroli.

But she unwrapped the gift gently, placing the paper in his outstretched hand as she opened the plain black box. Her brows flew up, her lips parted in shock. It was.. beautiful, exquisite in a different way than his other gifts had been. The way the sunset bled red and gold as the water crashed gently against the rocks, it transported her. She ran her fingers across the frame as she studied it, almost as if she could hear the waves crashing against the rocks, the water lapping against the shore. Marisa raised her gaze to his, quiet appreciation but also a question in her eyes. How did he know she loved sunrise and sunset so much?

She got that slightly pinned feeling like he could see right into her so she glanced back at the frame and tucked a curl behind her ear to hide her nerves. "Where is this?" she asked. Outside of Neroli, she hadn't had much time to travel, but she wanted to. It was on her eventual to do list, at some undefined point in the future. "It's beautiful, Reed, truly," she told him honestly, but she held it back to him. "You know I shouldn't accept things like this," she told him again, but she didn't even sound convinced herself. For once, she wanted to keep something that he gave her.

Waiting patiently, though not as patiently as some might have, Reed, watched her open the black box and admire the photograph inside. Even if she hadn't said anything, he could see it written all over her face: he had done well. And her question was the icing on the cake. Proudly, Reed stepped back and fell into the chair behind him again. Taking up his cigar and lighting it with a silent charm from the tip of his wand, he took a thick drag. "Beirut, in Lebanon." The wizard informed her as the smoke wafted up and away from his face. One of the things he loved the most about Marchesi, aside from the obviously stellar customer service, was the charms that kept the cigar smoke from staining his suits. Reed enjoyed a good smoke but hated the smell of it later. And cigars had the worst scent; it lingered.

"Those are the Raouche Rocks in the Mediterranean sea. I could take you there some time; it's magnificent at sunset." Reed knew she wouldn't take him up on the offer, but he said it anyway. Every offer, every comment, and question, they were all little waves chipping away at her walls. One day she would say yes, he was certain of this, and that—would be an interesting day.

Taking another puff from his cigar, Reed shook his head at her. "Well, I won't take it back," And the wizard didn't budge from his seat. If she wanted to be rid of the photograph, she'd have to do it herself. It wasn't like she had gotten rid of all the other gifts he'd given her over the years, so why would this be any different.

"Besides, I think you've got a suit to show me."

She watched as he sprawled back in the chair, still holding the frame in her hands, as smoke hung around him. She knew the Marchesi client could have almost anything they wanted her, any amenity offered, but Marisa hated the cigars. Even if they had charms to keep the smell off the clothes, it still burned at her nose so she took a light step back as she nodded. "When were you in Beirut?" Beirut! A place that was just a dot on the map for her right now, it made her yearn for a freedom she couldn't afford just yet.

Marisa's gaze shuttered as he offered to take her and she took another step back, this time more resolute. She tinkled a laugh, not completely genuine but sent him a smile that didn't quite warm her eyes. "It sounds nice, but you know the shop keeps me busy," she said, deflecting as usual. Not that she would have even thought of accepting for a variety of reasons, not that she actually thought he was offering genuinely. It made her wonder why he asked at all. She didn't like the thought of being the mouse to his cat in a game she couldn't win and didn't even know the rules.

She lowered her arm to her side, still holding the frame delicately and nodded. She wouldn't argue, just like she hadn't before with his other gifts that she had sold off as soon as could. But perhaps.. perhaps she'd keep this on her desk. It would be nice there, she thought. At his mention of the suit, Marisa shifted her shoulders back and nodded, slipping back into work mode where she was more in control, where she was more confident. The subtle shift showed in the way she moved and spoke, charming the suit over to hover next to him so he could see the detailing she had painstakingly worked on.

"Here's the latest," she said, a bit of pride in her voice as she looked at her handiwork. "Three piece suit, single breasted, two buttons not one as requested. The Blackpool wool was shipped specially from Italy for you and I enchanted it myself with your usual line up of spells. I also curated a few accessories that you might like," she rattled off as she touched parts of the suit to show him before charming over a golden tray with select pieces: a collar pin bar in dusty gold, a dragon lapel pin roaring with a diamond in its mouth, a garnet tie clip, a heavy golden ring with a black stone that was bigger than her knuckle. All pieces she had selected personally rather than her assistant because she had come to know very well exactly what Reed liked when it came to his style.

She glanced up at him to read him, as she asked, "Would you like to try it on?"

"The last time was about a week ago," Reed said, structuring the sentence to convey more than one bit of information. He had just gotten back from his business trip to the Middle East and that he had been there many times before. Beirut was one of his most common stops when traveling for the ministry. It was a melting pot of different sorts of magic, a collective of knowledge, and someone was always trying to steal it. Relaxing against the handstitched leather chair Reed watched her look from the photograph and back at him, a sense of pride creeping in. She liked the photograph, and he could tell. The wizard offered to take her on vacation, and she elegantly declined. This was the dance they were forever locked in. He made an advance, and she evaded him tactfully. He might have found it impressive if it wasn't so aggravating.

"I see," He said slowly, his blue eyes trailing away from her as he inspected the shop around him. Reed had been here a hundred times before, and he was in no way interested in the wallpaper but diverted his eyes was his way of showing his disappointment. Reed wasn't going to give up that easily, though, and when she brought in the suit, his eyes tracked back.

Despite the game they played, one thing had always remained true. Marisa was a true queen of her craft. He had never seen a suit so exquisitely stitched as the ones that Marisa made. The suit was decadent but refined, powerful, but not overstated. It was perfection incarnate. Which only made his respect for the creator that much more. "You have outdone yourself again." Reed started slowly, pushing his cigar into the divet in the ashtray so that he could approach her. He inspected the suit, circling it like a shark, and as he grew closer to Marisa, he stopped.

"Why does a witch as talented as you work here?"

She nodded once and resisted the urge to look at the photograph again that she was holding at her side now. Last week, Beirut. Last month, he had mentioned Cairo and Paris and Dubai. The month before that, Turkey and India. She had to wonder if he ever tired of the travel, or if she would if she were in his shoes. She had to wonder what it would be like to travel with him, if she ever said yes instead of no. Marisa almost laughed at herself, at her fanciful ideas and refocused, refusing to let the disapproval in his tone affect her. She wasn't sure she succeeded.

But it was Marisa's turn to watch him, noting the nuances of his sharp gaze on the suit, the way he looked for an imperfection but she was happy that he found none, it pleased her almost more than the photograph. She couldn't hide the satisfied smile as he took in the suit, circling around it, growing closer. She was glad he had left the cigar on the table as he came closer even though the smell clung to him. "Only the best at Marchesi," she said simply, repeating the customary business line, a tinge of pride crept into her tone even though she aimed for humbleness. It was the best sort of feeling when someone as discerning as Reed complimented her work, she wasn't sure if there was a higher compliment.

Marisa arched a brow at his question, her heart stuttering as the truth swarmed her mind. She gave a question for a question, deflecting instead of answering, evading as was her usual tactic when it came to Reed. "And what else would I do when I'm so talented at this, where else would I be?" she posed the mostly rhetorical question even as that part of her that she kept locked up rattled to be let free. She refused to think about the part of her that used to love her Ministry job and wanted it back. Maybe that's why Reed was so interesting to her in some ways, he was living the life she wanted.

She charmed the tray closer with the accessories as she eyes his hands, noting the rings he wore in comparison to the ones she had curated for him. "Did you have any interest in any of these?" she asked as the tray hovered lightly in front of him.

"I'm sure you could think of something," Reed replied about as ambiguously as she had answered, one eyebrow arching as he watched her. Marisa never really answered any of his questions, so Reed supposed he should have known better to ask, but where she was concerned, he was apparently a slow learner. If it was suit-related, she could go on for three minutes without a single breath; it was true, he had counted, but as soon as it turned personal, Reed could almost hear her lips locking. "You could go anywhere; travel the world." Reed saw the way she had looked at the painting, peering into it with those beautiful browns, almost like she wished it would capture her whole and transport her to parts unknown. The wizard understood that wanderlust; it spoke to him.

His hand running along his chin, freshly shaved as always, Reed eyed the pieces she brought over for a moment. He considered which ones suited him and found it remarkable that Marisa had picked out exactly what he would have himself. She was good at her job, and if she ever did decide to leave, it would be a great loss to the tailoring community. "This one will do." He said, pulling one of his own rings off to replace it with one of the items she had picked out. It fit perfectly, as he expected it would, and Reed made a fist to inspect the look on his skin. The gold against his black ink and pale skin was a perfect compliment.

Moving into the fitting room, the suit magically followed behind him, and he latched the door closed as he put it on. Within a moment or two, the tall wizard returned to the main room. Reed had high expectations for the article, but as she often did, Marisa had outdone herself. The stitching was perfect, the modification on the button was exactly what he had asked for, and the shoulders fit like a glove. It was comfortable enough for easy movements but stiff enough that he looked as sharp as a knife. Reed admired the look in the mirrors that surrounded the pedestal in a half-moon.

"Which enchantments have you sewn into this one?" Some time ago, Reed had stopped ordering specific suit designs; and had yet to find a limit to Marisa's ingenuity. He trusted her capable hands to craft something for him that was not only devilishly desirable but also uniquely useful.

She met his gaze for a moment before she had to look away. Sometimes it felt like he could see right into her, read all of her secrets and wishes right on her face and it made her feel seen. Marisa wasn't sure if she liked that or not so she glanced away and gave him a noncommittal shrug and a light smile. "I'm sure I'll think of something,"  she answered breezily, vaguely. You could go anywhere; travel the world. It almost felt like he was teasing her, dangling something she couldn't have in front of her, making her smile turn cooler. A small part of her knew he wouldn't be doing that intentionally while another part wondered if he thought a challenge would change her mind. She was tempted, but she was also stubborn.

Marisa was the picture of patience as he reviewed her selections in a meticulous fashion that she appreciated. He wasn't one of those clients who readily agreed to anything without thought and then returned a week later with complaints for something they had already approved. It felt rewarding when he selected the ring she thought would suit him, watching as he replaced it on his tattooed fingers. "And it fits you well, we won't even need a resizing charm," she said with a nod. She was still thinking about his hands and the way the rings glittered on his knuckles as he moved away to try on the suit.

She sighed a little as he disappeared from sight, releasing a little of the tension she had been unknowingly holding in her shoulders and she walked around a bit. Straightening one of the cushions, charming the tray with the other accessories to the table in front of the velvet backed loveseat, refilling his glass, checking the appointment book for tomorrow. All actions born out of a need to simply do something rather than a need for neatness. Marisa glanced up from her gold-lined appointment book when she saw him emerge like a shadow prowling through moonlight. She drifted closer as she tried to focus on the technical aspects, the fit of the shoulder and sleeve, the silhouette at the waist.

The tailoress licked her lips as she looked away from the man in the gold-stitched Blackpool wool suit and refocused on the work. An easy topic for her. She set her narrow shoulders back as she met his gaze in the mirror as she stood to the side. "Well, your usual line up, of course. Heating and cooling charms, extension and anti-theft on the pockets, self-cleaning, feather-light so the weight of it doesn't sit too heavy, and impervius charms to keep off the weather. Then also weaved in are the foundations for concealment, defensive, and disillusionment to amplify any spells you cast," she explained easily, this part coming so easily and naturally for her. She tilted her head just a bit as she looked at him in the mirror. She had gotten his measurements exactly right, this one didn't even need adjustments.

"I've also.. I hope you don't need to use it, but I've worked in a new shield charm as well. Counteractive. It refracts the spell," she added, remembering the many tests she did to make sure it worked properly, refining the magic woven into the fabric before she got it right. "It works, tested it myself," she smiled ruefully, rubbing at a spot on her wrist where she had sprained it after a successful test and had healed it later, but the memory of it still lingered.

Standing in the middle of the room, under the careful eye of a genius tailoress and mirrors surrounding, some wizards might have felt strange. Every movement reflected every little detail under scrutiny. A lesser man might have seen their own reflection and looked away, but Reed had never run from himself. His darkness and chaos fit perfectly into the suit handcrafted by Marisa, contained but never hidden. As she surveyed the suit, Reed watched her reflections circle him. The way she sized up the sleeves, inspected the hem and assured him of the array of enchantments she had personally seen to. Marchesi didn't just make suits, they perfected them, and Marisa's were the best.

Reed may not have been able to get her to answer any of his personal questions, and Merlin knew she was evasive when it came to accepting anything he brought her, but that didn't mean the wizard had not learned a great many things about her. How she approached her work spoke volumes, and Reed was perceptive. Marisa worked in a very tactile profession, designing things that were meant to be felt, but was very reserved. Reed had met a great many artists in his life, and very few of them had ever been so inclined to keep their hands to themselves. He had noticed the way her movements were quite small, especially so the closer he stood. Her English was impeccable, much like everything else about how she was perceived, but Reed could tell she was not born or raised in London. He could hear the little trill of an Italian accent in her words, most often when she gave away how excited she was about a new charm and the effort required to place it.

"Tested it yourself, did you?" Reed tugged on the sleeves of the jacket, appreciative of the slack the fabric offered when he moved without looking baggy or unkempt. Some suits were so stiff it was hard to maneuver, but never a Marchesi suit. In the mirror, he saw her hand on her wrist and understood the context clue. Marisa was like a puzzle to be solved, and Reed was always looking for corner pieces. "Did you hurt yourself?" The wizard waited to catch her eye in the mirror before nodding toward her wrist. Stepping down from the pedestal, Reed removed the black jacket and vest, hanging it on the hook nearby, before untucking the bottom of the shirt she'd selected for the suit. He began unbuttoning it before he spoke, revealing the mix of muscles and ink beneath. "Do you have a black shirt to go with this, instead?" He asked, holding the white button-down toward her.

Reed was alike many of her clients in some ways, but so different in others. He always seemed to command the room and where she normally felt in control of the shop and her workroom, at home and at ease here as long as her clients were at least an arm's length away, she felt a little up-ended whenever he was here. Marisa worked hard not to show it though, or even admit to it. She was sure he probably did it on purpose.

She nodded at his first question as she watched him adjust, the fabric molding around him, fitting every muscle and sharp line, careful to spot any restriction of movement the new suit might have. But his second question had her sliding her eyes back to his in the mirror and she saw his gaze flicker to her wrist. She dropped her hands to her side at once and gave him a smile. "Nothing I can't handle," Marisa told him, her instinct was not to show weakness to a man like Reed. It seemed almost dangerous and besides, she'd much rather face a paltry injury than give her clients a less than perfect enchanted suit.

"Would you like to take it tonight then?" she asked as he stepped down and she took a step back instinctively, blinking up at him as he removed the jacket and vest, charming them with a few simple swipes of her wand onto their nearby hangers. She tucked a curl behind her ear as she made sure that the two pieces were sitting neatly on the velvet-wrapped hangers before she turned to look at him, a question on her lips and she sucked in a breath.

All she saw was skin and taut muscles and dark ink, her cheeks instantly betraying her with the faintest of pink blushes. She tried to tell herself that she had seen client's before in varying states of dress as they got fitted, but in this moment, it felt different. She averted her gaze as she swallowed and took the white shirt from him, careful not to touch his hand. The idea occurred to her that maybe he was trying to unsettle her on purpose and that thought made her set her shoulders and meet his gaze, warmed caramel to his piercing blue.

She tried to mimic his brazenness as she blinked up at him, wanting to seem unfazed. "Yes I do. Would you like the black in cotton broadcloth or pinpoint oxford?" she asked, trying to ignore the waver in her voice as she held his skin-warmed shirt in her hands. She did her best not to let her gaze drop so she wouldn't be tempted to look at the beautiful inky black lines that covered his skin or the hard lines of muscle beneath the ink.

"Nothing I can't handle," Reed held back a sigh as she answered his question with yet another nonanswer. Most women would have leaped at the opportunity to gain a little sympathy, and more importantly, attention, but Marisa was decidedly not most women. She was a witch unlike any Reed had ever had the pleasure of knowing, but he wished he could know her a little better. Perhaps it was the mystery that kept him so interested.

Marisa did not demand attention like the other high maintenance witches he was so fond of chasing, and she certainly didn't need Reed to tell her what she was worth, and that was to be respected. It was part of the reason why he never asked a question twice, not really anyway. He wanted her to want to tell him the answers, not feel like she was obligated. And he was confident that one of these days, she would.

"Is it ready, then?" Sometimes suits needed additional alterations, and Reed had always hated that part of the process. Returning for a second fitting was not efficient; it wasted precious time and got in the way of his busy schedule. It had been an irritation until it was Marisa's time he was wasting. Now, Reed didn't mind coming back for another visit so soon. He'd clear his entire week if she asked, not that she ever would. Of course, Marisa's suits were always perfectly tailored, and he rarely had additional requests or complaints. Return trips were uncommon, unfortunately.

Pulling the jacket and vest off, Reed watched Marisa as she hung them magically onto velvet hangers, careful and precise. By the time she turned her gaze back to him, his eyes had trailed down her figure and back up again, and Reed was just as impressed with what he saw as he was with the suit she had created. "Oxford, of course." He replied, taking another step closer as she plucked the shirt from his grasp, attentive and meticulous. Reed was mindful of his facial expressions, careful not to give away the satisfaction he got from seeing the tint of red in her cheeks.

"Unless you think the broadcloth would be more fitting?"