[marchesi] primum negotium // marisa

"Of course," she said simply with quiet confidence. There were many things that Marisa wasn't sure of, but her work was the one area she knew she shined in. And with Reed being such a loyal customer, she had practically memorized his measurements. It was rare that she needed a second round of alterations with him and that's how she preferred it, generally speaking.

Then again, Reed was generally an exception. For instance, right now. She had no idea why she was so phased by him. Reed was something to behold when he was in a Marchesi suit, but shirtless? Marisa swallowed gently and took a tiny step back. She nodded as she accioed a oxford shirt in his size and tried not to think about the last man she had seen naked. It had been a while, more so because she couldn't trust people not to touch her, rather than lack of wanting. But she didn't want him sniffing that out of her, his eyes were too sharp. He saw everything so she slid the shirt off the hanger and held if open to him, before realizing her mistake.

She couldn't hold it for him to slide his arms into, it would be too risky if he accidentally brushed against her. Marisa, flustered and trying not to appear so, pushed the shirt toward him instead and gave him an almost apologetic smile. "You're right," she gave him. "Oxford will look better with the Blackpool."

And because she didn't want him to focus on her mistake, she brought up a safe topic of conversation that had been popular around the shop the last few weeks. "Are you planning to attend the gala next weekend?" Marisa asked, speaking of the yearly gala the Marchesi's threw for their clients, a black-tie event they used to schmooze their clients with an open bar and also display some of their best works and new lines to entice even more galleons out of pockets. It would be the first time Marisa would be attending as the head of the shop and as such, she was looking forward to being honored with the other heads of Marchesi locales as was tradition. Called to the stage and given a rare gift were the usual line up, but more than anything else, Marisa wanted to be considered capable and worthy in the eyes of her family members. She had spent a lot of time designing her gown for the event and she was still in the process of the finishing touches. She wanted to impress and she wondered if Reed would be there to see it too. She wondered why she cared.

Reed smiled when she answered, noting the tone of her voice and sensing something from it. Pride, perhaps, and she had more than earned it. The suit was ready for him to take home, it fit perfectly, as it always did, and Reed was not surprised by it. Marisa was almost too good at what she did, but if she weren't, Reed wouldn't have been a repeat customer. He demanded only the best.

Handing the shirt to her, Reed did his best to keep his eyes from wandering as she turned around to collect another. The black fabric was somehow both shiny and matte simultaneously, durable and flexible, with the slightest hint of texture. The oxford was surely more his style, and when she held it out, he turned around to slip his arms in until she interrupted. "Oh?" He questioned, confusion flashing over his face as she backtracked and changed her mind. It was rare for her to be undecided, Marisa always seemed so sure of her thoughts where suits were concerned, and it was like an alert for Reed. Something was off.

This time she held the shirt out toward him, and he reached for it reluctantly. Wrapping it around his broad shoulders, it fits perfectly; of course, she had gotten the size right, but Reed was still pondering what had just unfolded. While the broadcloth was nice, he was sure the oxford went better with the fabric she had chosen for the vest. The broadcloth was too silky; it blended too easily, while the other option afforded him the slightest bit of contrast.

Reed thought to question it, but she was the professional, and before he had the chance, she diverted the conversation. Another red flag, but he allowed it. "I am; I sent the RSVP by owl yesterday morning." The annual ceremony was exclusive, and invitations were for the upper echelon of clients only, so of course, Reed would be in attendance. "If your family imports any more of that Russian vodka like last year, I might not make it out alive." Reed teased, a light chuckle escaping him as he left the black shirt unbuttoned on his chest. "Will you be there?"

He was disarming when he smiled at her like that. It was disconcerting the way it softened his features against the harshness of the blank ink of his tattoos. Marisa had to wonder again if he liked to try to throw her off balance. As he gave her his back so he could slip his arms through the sleeves, she had the faintest urge to run her fingertips across the art there. Damn him. She didn't like to be teased.

Marisa didn't want to see whatever recognition or realization he was having about her quick change of behavior so instead, she turned toward the suit jacket and vest hanging idly nearby and she busied her hands with something that was safe to touch. She accioed one of their suit boxes, charmed with anti-wrinkle spells so the suit would arrive in pristine condition, and took the jacket that smelled of him as she folded it precisely and laid it in the box before moving to the vest.

Thinking she was probably safe, considering she gave him enough time to put the shirt on and button it, she turned back around, only to realize she was wrong. Damn him again. But at least he was moving, wrapping himself in the shirt which made a little bit of the tension from her shoulders dissipate.

At mention of the Russian vodka, a smile tugged at the corner's of her lips and she gave into it after a moment, remembering last year's gala. She had mingled and chitchatted as was expected of her, but she found refuge in the quiet corners of the great hall of her family's Neroli mansion. And from one of those corners, she had spied an imbibed Reed asking her grandmother Moreta, Marchesi matriarch and head of the family business, to dance. "You were quite the spectacle with grandmother," she told him before she waved a hand at the shirt. "Button it up, let's see the fit," Marisa added, trying to make her tone light.

As she moved around him to see the fit at the shoulders and the waist, she remembered how Moreta had indulged him. "You know, she doesn't dance with just anyone. You should consider yourself lucky." she told him as she nodded at the fit but bit her lip. It wasn't perfectly tapered like she aimed for with his clothing.

"Yes," she told him simply as she debated what to do with the shirt. She should have thought to have both a black and white option for him. Darn. "I might have to pin this one," she told him, glancing up at him, but still deciding whether she should or not. Perhaps she should call her assistant Carlotta in. She glanced toward the doorway, debating. Marisa didn't want to call attention to it, but she didn't trust Reed so close and she didn't want her Sight to interfere.

Last year Reed had let himself get a little too carried away with getting comfortable, it was a rare sight, but he had been far more unbalanced last year. He was better now. And in the end, despite having a bit more vodka than he planned to, Reed had made some solid connections at last year's event. And he somehow convinced the matriarch to dance with him, which was worth bragging rights all by itself. Marisa's words had the smirk on his face growing, and soon enough, he was nodding along. Ignoring her request to button the shirt and laughing as she moved around him.

Marisa began to explain that she would need to pin the shirt, and Reed nodded, yet another sign that this shirt had not been her original intention. And until he had asked for a black one, Reed had not particularly wanted a different shirt. In reality, her design had been utterly flawless down to the very seams. He didn't have a single complaint, but requesting another shirt had given him the chance to prolong his visit and make her blush. Something he was growing quite fond of doing.

"I'm planning to ask someone else to dance with me this year..." He offered, turning to face her as she grew closer and inspected the shirt hanging off of his shoulders, the magical tattoos that lined his abdomen moving slowly across his muscles. "Hopefully, my luck will continue."

His laughter seemed to rumble in his chest and it was an intriguing sound, but she was too anxious to fully appreciate the timbre of it because the pending pinning she was going to have to do. She had done this a million times before, she reminded herself, steeling herself and running through a check of her senses. No telltale signs of the Sight that she could detect; no headache, pressure behind her temples, no achiness in her body. A small part of her wondered why she didn't just call Carlotta in.. but her assistant was vivacious and flirty and with Reed half shirtless, she didn't jump at the idea. She would have plenty of time later tonight when she was curled up with her cats to regret this choice.

And still, he was not buttoning that shirt. Honestly, she was starting to think he had an exhibitionistic streak. She raised a brow and gave her a pointed glance at the shirt as she accioed over her pretty gold pins sitting in a cushion that looked like a cat. "I'm sure Auntie Vi would love a dance with you," she smiled innocently at him, mentioning her aunt who was boisterous and raunchy and definitely a little handsy. She wasn't a stranger to any of the bachelor men who showed up each year to the gala. She refused to think of what he really meant just like she refused to really take in the tattoo of a snake moving magically across his abdomen. Dancing meant touching and for her, that was impossible. A pang of longing echoed through her before she shut it down quickly.

Impatient of waiting and tired of his teasing, she did a charm so the buttons found their holes and she quirked a brow at him before moving behind him. It was safer behind, could watch movements more carefully, step back out of reach quickly if needed. It was something she was used to with other clients, but Reed put her more on edge. "Don't move or I might stick you," she warned him, more because she didn't want him touching her than of any actual pending harm. She had very skilled hands when it came to pinning, and she hadn't pricked a client since her apprentice days, but she never knew what to expect from Reed.

"The heads of each shop are honored each year, you know," she volunteered as she started pinning the left side of the shirt quickly and efficiently, without knowing why she had mentioned it all. It almost made her embarrassed at the idea that she was looking for attention or praise from him. But a tiny part of her couldn't help but be excited about it. It was a small glimmer in the stress and pressure she put on herself to run this shop to the best of her ability.

Shaking his head at Marisa, dramatic and slow, Reed huffed. She must have known that was not remotely what he had meant when she offered up her Auntie. And because it was so apparent, he felt no need to explain it. Reed was going to ask her to dance, and she was going to say yes. Without a whisper, Marisa worked that incredible magic of hers, and the buttons on Reed's shirt fixed themselves up to the collar. He coughed, tugging on the inner button pressed too tightly to his neck and undoing it with one hand.

"Don't move or I might stick you," Marisa warned him, but Reed moved anyway. Turning to catch her eye as she told him about the tradition. Reed knew how the ceremony went, he'd been invited for the last few seasons, but he liked hearing her talk about it. In general, Marisa was quite reserved, withdrawn even, so seeing the little bit of what she offered underneath her words made him smile. She was excited for the gala, looking forward to it even. Reed could practically feel the hope and anxiousness coming off of her as she pinned his shirt up for the alterations.

"Yes, it's quite an achievement to run a Marchesi location." Reed returned, his eyes following her until she moved out of his line of sight, and he turned his head quickly to find her in the mirror's reflection instead. Something about Marisa kept him focussed, as if the less attention she demanded, the more he wanted to give.

She hid a smile at the shake of his head, only the corners of her lips twitching as he huffed. Yes, she had read the subtext in his comments and yes, she knew that this was the cat and mouse game that he liked, but she didn't. Not really even though the smile tugging at her lips hinted at a different answer. At his cough after her charm, she eyed him with faint concern, before her gaze followed his hand to release a button. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but he seemed fine so she continued. Maybe it had been her nerves that made her magic button a little too tightly. Marisa reminded herself to be more careful around him.

Then again, Reed seemed to ask for trouble. He was moving when she had told him not to and she sucked in a breath as she pulled her hands away quickly as he turned to look at her, her gaze meeting his. "Face front," she told him with a flick of her fingers, waiting until he stilled before she sidled closer and continued pinning, trying to work quickly but accurately. Being this close to him made her nervous, for more than one reason.

She pinched the fabric at his side, her eyes critically checking the fit, as she deftly kept pinning. It was that opposing urges she always felt when she was this close to someone: an urgent to need to flee and a desperate yearn to be close to someone, anyone. But she didn't give in to that. Instead, she found his gaze in the mirror as she peered around him and blinked at him before she finished pinning that side. "I was lucky," she told him as she dropped his gaze back to the black oxford and moved around behind him to the other side. "Flavia wanted to go back to Italy. She said she was tired of all the rain here," Marisa mentioned as she eyed this side, smiling a bit as she mentioned the former head of the shop, an aging elegant woman who had run the shop in the years after her father had ruined it. Marisa, however, didn't mind the rain at all. She glanced up at him in the mirror as she eyed the line of the shirt's fit from the front, evaluating.

"I'm guessing it will be ostentatious this year," she added, judging by how extravagant the invitation was. "Grecian goddess themed," she smiled in amusement. If nothing else, her family never did anything small or subtly.

"Was it anything less than ostentatious last year?" Reed asked though he knew the answer; he had been there, and visions of Phoenixes on perches and fire-breathing entertainers were still burned into his mind. At least this year, he was less likely to catch on fire, he supposed. Greek-goddesses was a good theme, and Reed, for one, was looking forward to the extravagance. "Who will you be going as, then?"

The obvious answer and lazy suggestion would have been Aphrodite, and while Reed certainly thought Marisa had the beauty of such a goddess, she was so much more than that. "Eos, perhaps?" Reed offered, flexing his knowledge of the goddesses and paying Marisa a compliment in a single breath. Eos was a Titaness, strong and fierce, someone to be revered and respected, and Reed felt the same way about Marisa. She'd buttoned his shirt when he refused to. Unlike so many others, Marisa didn't melt in front of him. More than that, though, Eos was the Goddess of the Dawn. And Marisa was beautiful, like a sunrise after a long night.

Moving too fast, trying to look at her, and getting a pinprick in his shoulder for it, Reed flinched. "Shit," He cursed under his breath, more surprised than hurt, and chuckled. He should have followed her instructions and stood still, but Reed did not like being told what to do.

Marisa smiled widely this time. She had to shake her head as her caramel eyes sparkled with amusement as she shifted so she could met his gaze in the mirror. "Hoping no one's hair catches on fire this year," she remarked, the joke light, feeling foreign on her lips. She wasn't usually this casual around other clients. Not that anyone had actually caught on fire, but Merlin, there had been a lot of flames involved in last year's Phoenix Rising gala. Marisa had gone with an understated look last year, a dress that was burning embers, dark and swirling around her legs, with a tiara like fire on her curls. This year, she was being much more.. showy. It still made her a little nervous. She didn't much like being in the spotlight. She wasn't sure if the thought of going up on stage to receive her gift made her more nervous or excited. Probably nervous.

She refocused on the shirt, reminding herself that she needed to finish quickly, so she returned her gaze to the pins, picking a few more from the cat-shaped pin cushion as she gathered fabric deftly between her fingers. She debated whether to tell him or not, but she didn't see the harm in it. He was probably going to see her there anyway. "Eos?" she asked, her brow quirking in question. That goddess wasn't familiar to her, she wondered why he had mentioned that one. But she volunteered what she had been planning as her hands moved higher. "I was thinking Selene. Goddess of the Moon," she explained before tucking an errant curl behind her ear as she almost finished.

"But I haven't completely decided, I-- oh!" she stopped, quickly retracting her hands as she felt one of her pins dig into his skin instead of the shirt and she felt him flinch. "Sorry!" she whispered immediately. His chuckle assured her it wasn't a serious dig, but it didn't make her feel any better. Good thing it wasn't the white shirt. The black would hide the blood. Shit, the blood. "You're probably bleeding. Take the shirt off. Let me see," she told him, taking another half step back. She didn't normally ask her clients to strip for her, but then again, her client usually listened to her when she told them to stay still.

It would be a quick charm to heal, she knew, but it was the principle of it and it didn't sit well on her shoulders.

Eyes following her as best he could, Marisa seemed hellbent on staying behind him and out of sight; Reed nodded when she mentioned Selene. "Oh, Selene is also a titaness." Naturally, he read into what little bit of information she had given him and came to some conclusions. Marisa had picked Selene, the moon instead of the sun, which made him wonder if she was hiding. The moon was always in view but outshined by the sun for half the day. Or perhaps running from something, he surveyed her silently (for once) while she worked.

He should have kept still, but he was too distracted watching her in the mirror, wondering about all the reasons she might have picked Selene. The pin stuck into his shoulder, and he pulled away quickly, automatically, even as she pulled it back out. It hadn't hurt very badly, but even with the needle gone, it was still stinging. He nearly swore again, but Marisa's request replaced every curse hanging on his lips with a wolfish smirk. Take your shirt off; now that was an order Reed was ready and willing to follow. He unbuttoned the shirt quickly, only having a little trouble with the middle button, some bit of Marisa's magic still holding onto it.

Reed was careful as he pulled it from his shoulders; he wouldn't want to ruin a perfect shirt. "Remind me to start listening to you, then," Reed said, his words chased by a laugh. Running a hand over the little bit of stubble that graced his chin, the muscles and veins on his tattooed arms contracted. "Well, how does it look?" It couldn't have been all that bad, it was just a needle, and Merlin knew he was used to them, but he felt a faint trickle, or maybe his mind told him he did. The wizard looked into the mirror, using the reflections to take a look at his shoulder, but became enthralled by Marisa's backside instead.

"Suppose I will need to go as Endymion." He offered, a smile on his face as he used his newfound vantage to stare at her. Though, Reed had no plans to sleep through the night.

She made a small humming noise and nodded. She hadn't researched much into the different gods and goddesses, honestly. Although she had read a romance book a couple of months ago that had a couple of Greek gods and goddesses as protagonists so some of the names on the list she had read sounded familiar when she was looking for inspiration. The rather steamy scenes from that book popped into her mind and she tried not to blush at that line of thinking.

But that was all pushed aside in light of the pin incident. She knew it wasn't serious, but it seemed like such a silly mistake and it grated against her need for perfection. She wasn't usually so careless. Marisa saw that smirk on his face and how it changed his features, how quick he was to unbutton his shirt when he had taken forever to do just one of those buttons earlier. "It's not like that," she muttered, preparing herself this time for his skin and ink and muscles, as she carefully took the pinned shirt and levitated it to a hanger. She had been near enough done that she could finish the rest without him having to risk the pins again. 

"I imagine you don't listen to anyone," she mused quietly as she revolved around him to stand at his side and examined his skin from a step away. There was only a small bead of blood welling against the dark ink of a scaled dragon, curling over his shoulder, its eyes blinking up at her and she was distracted by the sight for a moment. "Endymion?" she repeated, the name sounding familiar. Her thoughts circled as she thought of the name and then her eyes shot to him as she remembered, mostly thanks to that steamy romance book. Selene's mortal lover. But she simply shook her head at him. "And why would you do that, the God of War suits you much better, I think."

She gently touched the tip of her wand to the tiny cut and healed it efficiently with a simple spell then siphoned away the small blood that had well against his skin. "All done," she said as she turned back to the pinned shirt and charmed it to button itself so it would sit correctly on the hanger. "This is good enough, you won't need to put it back on," she explained with a glance toward the changing curtain. "You can get dressed now," she added as she gazed at him, a not so subtle hint.

"What else do you imagine, and how often?" Reed countered, the look in his eyes explaining every meaning behind his words, as he turned to see her face. Marisa was such a challenge, Reed easily persuaded most women to spend the night with him, but she had never once shown an inkling of interest. It was rather frustrating, but the dark wizard did not give up easily. The less she responded, the more he tried. That was just Reed's nature. The more he was told he couldn't, or shouldn't, the more he had to. If he wasn't supposed to have it, he craved it, and if told he wasn't good enough, he became better. Marisa was right; he didn't listen to anyone.

"Yes, Endymion," Reed like the way the word rolled off of his tongue, end-dim-eon, it sounded ethereal. She hung up his shirt and began inspecting the cut on his back, and Reed was still for the moment. He could see her in the mirror and felt like he saw the exact moment when she realized who Endymion was to Selene. "the God of War suits you much better," He could not keep himself from smiling proudly at the thought, his chest rising as he agreed. Ares was so much more than just the God of War. He was an Olympian, one of twelve, and he was an overwhelming, dangerous force. Reed could relate to that, a chaotic, indomitable will; insatiable. "What makes you say that?"

Reed felt the cooling touch of her healing spell, and it sent little goosebumps along the skin on his shoulder blade. It seemed there was no magic she wasn't adept at, and even that was impressive. Most witches and wizards were lazy, even with their charms, but not Marisa. Her spells were perfection incarnate, and so was she. "Thank you," Reed managed, but he had no intentions of rushing off to put on the shirt he had come in wearing.

"Can I order a suit for the gala tonight?" He asked, turning to face her and stepping down from the pedestal. The event was well over a month away, so he wasn't running low on time, but Reed already knew that he wanted Marisa to design it. He had more suits made by her in his closet than any other tailoresses combined, and that was how he'd like to keep it. Besides, he knew she would put the right sort of enchantments on it, nothing showy just for the sake of being entertaining. He hated feeling like a dress-up doll at the event, like every other customer walking around modeling their favorite tailoresses designs.

She knew she should be used to Reed's blatant flirtation and innuendo, but he was starting to fray her nerves and maybe her patience too. He put her on edge and she had had a long day and he was still shirtless and she found herself quietly saying, "Nothing, stop that." Marisa understood it was just his way and that he probably did it with everyone, but it felt more taunting than teasing to her. She sighed at herself and rubbed her forehead, maybe the day was just getting to her.

Why had she even mentioned Ares? "Well," she said as she tilted her head and looked back over her shoulder at him. "Ares represents strength and boldness. Aggression in war. Dangerous," she tacked on, but rushed over that last one, not wanting to focus too much on it as she licked her lips. "I'm sure you see some similarities," she gave him a small smile and then nodded at one of his snake tattoos. "I believe he also prized serpents," she added. And while she hadn't seen his snake tattoos until today, she knew he had a penchant for serpent icons on his rings and tie clips and one suit even had his initials monogramed with a snake symbol beside it so she knew it was important to him in one way or another.

"It's nothing, it was my fault, sorry again," she told him sincerely, glancing away from his broad shoulders to meet his gaze. She was sure he wasn't upset by the prick, but she didn't like making such a novice mistake like that, especially in front of him. So when he asked for a suit for the gala, she wanted to nod immediately. It would give her a chance to erase that little mistake from his mind.

But she also hesitated, glancing back at her workroom where she knew some sketches lay in her closed notebook. He hadn't asked for a suit until now, but she had already sketched a few things, specifically for him, on the off-chance he might ask. Marisa debated on whether to show them to him and what he might glean from it, but he had asked and she had already done the first part of work. So she gave him a nod and a bit of a secret smile, accioed the notebook and set it down gently on a table with two chairs on the same side. "I have some designs for you," she told him, before glancing at the chair, silently inviting him closer. "But only if you get dressed," she added as she held out a hand for his shirt that she summoned and held it out for him. She was sure he was doing it on purpose, but she'd had enough.

Marisa opened the notebook, more of a collection of loose papers tied together but she sorted through them and laid out a sheaf of papers, cream colored with a faint scent like freesia, on the table before him to show him her designs. "You mentioned Zeus, Ares, and Apollo in our last appointment," she told him, recalling easily the brief mention he had made, though it had been so far out that, there had been no set plans. And still, she had sketched these for him. The lines were elegant and artistic, sketched with a dark ink and only hints of color just to indicate the design idea, but nothing completely colored in. She gave him time to look them over, confident in her sketches to some extent, but still wanting to hear his thoughts

Hearing Marisa's sigh, Reed held back a laugh and supposed it was time to give it a rest, at least for a little while. The wizard loved to chase, but there was a limited time for one-sided flirtations before becoming less endearing and more annoying. Tomorrow was a new day, of course, so it wasn't as if he would quit forever. Reed moved past Marisa to look at his shoulder in the mirror; her charm worked as perfectly as he had expected it to, the pinprick had already stopped bleeding, and honestly, he wasn't even sure where she had stuck him anymore. "Nice to know that you see them too," Reed answered, wondering which similarities Marisa found most noticeable. Strength and boldness were good, but Reed didn't mind if she thought he was dangerous too, so long as she knew he was no danger to her.

Turning to face her, Reed listened to the last bit of information she offered about Ares. He prized snakes; well, Reed could undoubtedly relate to that. He wondered if Marisa knew the extent of his interest in serpents and reptiles in general. It went much further than his tattoos. A parseltongue by birth, Runespoor owner, and the leading expert in the Reptillian Trade Markets, one might say Reed was obsessed.

When she offered a deal, Reed complied quickly enough. He turned to collect the shirt hanging in the room, but she summoned it before he could reach, and the dark wizard laughed. "Would it be alright if I changed my pants, as well?" He asked, mocking her with his words as he headed back into the changing room. In a moment or two, Reed reappeared in the shop's sitting area and joined Marisa at the small table. He'd left the cigar burning on the ashtray, but as if by magic, it had put itself out. Glad it hadn't gone to waste, Reed wondered when the assistant witch with nice legs would show up and offer him some whiskey.

"This one," Reed made the decision efficiently, scooting his chair in to sit nearer to the sketches and Marisa. Each design was very well put together, and he knew he'd look good no matter what she made for him, but Reed had always been good at making choices. He never second-guessed himself; he was stubborn in that way too. "Make the tie red, too, though." Reed ran his tattooed fingers over the sketches she had made, impressed by the effort and attention to detail. Almost as if she had been thinking about him while he wasn't here. Reed knew it was just business, but he smirked anyway. "If I am to be Ares, I will need to look rather diabolical, don't you agree?"

She tried not to let it rankle her that he was checking her healing charm in the mirror. As if she couldn't perform even the tiniest of magic without problem. Marisa knew her nerves were fraying with the tension that Reed seemed to wrap around him and she was starting to become undone. But it helped that he agreed to getting dressed and she shooed him with a wave of her hand and a quirk of her lips, the sounds of his laughter warming the room before he disappeared into the dressing room.

Marisa inhaled deeply as she smoothed her skirt over her knee, oddly aware of just how much space was between them as he moved the chair closer. Then she slid a glass over to him of his favorite whiskey, having readied it while he was changing. Ever the accommodating tailoress of course.

As per usual, Reed selected quickly and efficiently. She liked that about him. He always seemed so sure of himself whereas she had designed twelve different pieces for her own gown next month and she was no closer to narrowing in down even though she stared at the sketches each night. Marisa wondered if she should show those to Reed as well, maybe she could use some of his decisiveness.

She pulled the Ares sketch closer to her and leaned behind her to grab her quill set and set of ink. She grabbed the bottle of red ink and started to fill in the tie, deftly filling out more of the lines, to give a better idea of what he could expect, adding small details as they came to her, only the sound of her quill against the thick paper was heard for the moment. "Diabolical?" she asked quietly. "I don't think you need a suit for that," she told him, then slid her gaze to his slowly, a smile playing about her lips.

Marisa stopped sketching and put her quill down, sliding the sketch closer to him. "What do you think?" If he wanted diabolical, this would certainly do the trick.