TW: scars, abuse, some strong language

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Rosie hadn’t bought brand new clothes, except for underwear and socks, for a decade. In high school, she discovered thrift shops and never turned back. She scoffed at the price tags on her friends’ new clothes and bragged about her epic finds whenever complimented. She became an expert at digging through junk to find treasure. So, when she opened the door to the posh Brulla clothing store, beautifully organized and replete with a variety of duplicate outfits of all different sizes, she wasn’t entirely sure where to start, or even where to look.

Luckily, a peppy sales associate was all too ready to help her spend some money, and Rosie was swept away to a fitting room. Droya and Zete loitered near the back of the store, Zete playing on his tiny phone and Droya keeping a sharp eye on the entrance and the fitting room doors. The saleswoman ran this way and that, fetching items for Rosie to try. After a few minutes, another customer came in, an elegant human woman with big blonde hair, tailed by a shaya bodyguard. The bodyguard caught sight of Droya and made a beeline for him as her client was nabbed by another saleswoman.

“Tinari Layessa Tonna Corr,” the shaya introduced herself.

“Becho Droya Kirnah Ataskielle Shomme.”

The woman was a dark brick red color, with teal horns and a trim figure. She had a few inches of height on Droya, and she peered down at Droya’s face after hearing his name.

“Shomme,” she said curiously, leaning against the wall. “I knew your brother.”

Droya hid a flinch as his stomach twisted.

“I think all the shaya in Brulla knew my brother,” he responded with a sad smile.

“He was a good man,” she said solemnly. “He did so much for us all. He would have done so much more. It was a loss for everyone.”

“Thank you for saying so,” Droya said politely. “So,” he said, hoping to change the subject, “how long have you been with your human client?”

Layessa grinned and glanced at the closed fitting room doors.

“She’s a secondary, a wife. My primary client is a human businessman, he’s been here for three months. She just got here a couple weeks ago.”

“I just started with a human a couple days ago,” Droya said. “Um… Are they all so… unpredictable?”

Layessa chuckled. “You have no idea,” she said, shaking her head. “Humans are trouble. I’ve never been so busy on a job before. My primary once tried to pet a wild chimera. He almost lost his arm.”

Droya snorted an incredulous laugh.

“Do you have any advice on dealing with them? Humans, not chimeras.”

Layessa’s tail slowly twitched as she considered.

“The most important things are still the instructions in the basic dossier, like watching that they don’t try to eat anything poisonous and accidentally sell their souls,” she said. “But they also get their feelings hurt easily, and tend to make problems bigger before they make them better. Aside from that, I mean, I could probably tell you lots of stories. Do you have any specific questions?”

Droya licked his lips and let his eyes wander across the store.

“Are they all… ah, charming?” he asked, embarrassed.

Layessa smirked at him, but she took the question seriously.

“Once you get past the sexy eyes, there are plenty of them that are horribly off-putting,” she said. “I’ve met humans just as slimy as stahala. They run the whole range from fuckable to fucked up, just like demons.”

She shot him a look through half-closed eyes.

“Why? Crushing on your client?” she teased.

Droya winced.

“Trying not to,” he said.

“Hmmm,” Layessa said, turning to give him her full attention. “I’ll see if I can help. Female client?”

Droya nodded.

“What do you like about her?”

Droya opened his mouth and closed it again. Layessa just watched him.

“Everything,” he sighed.

Layessa chuckled.

“It’s only been a couple days, you said? You’ll get over it, trust me. She’ll get unbearably annoying after a couple weeks.” Layessa glared toward the door that hid her secondary client. “Unbearably.”

She turned back to Droya and smiled wickedly.

“Or, if not, go for it! What’s the harm? Sure it might get awkward, but it’ll be a good story to tell, yeah? How old are you, anyway? Twenty-three? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty,” Droya said.

“Ah, yeah, you’re still a baby,” Layessa said with a laugh. “Put yourself out there. Make mistakes, have fun. How long is she here?”

“A year,” Droya said.

“Hmm. Maybe wait a month and see if you still like her. The problem might take care of itself.” Layessa waved a clawed hand through the air dismissively.

Rosie’s laughter suddenly filled the store, and Droya perked up and walked toward the fitting rooms. The saleswoman hustled over as well, arms loaded with more clothes, and Rosie opened the door. She stepped out, shoeless, wearing a cream colored skirt and a pale green blouse. It fit her perfectly, and Droya swallowed a sigh.

“I love this,” she told the saleswoman. She turned around and stretched, revealing long open slits down the back of the blouse. “But could I get it without the wing holes?”

“Oh! Miss I’m so sorry, of course,” the saleswoman simpered, running across the store to look for the right blouse.

Rosie turned back around and met Droya’s eyes with a smile.

“What do you think?” she asked him. “Do I look like a real professional?”

Droya’s eyes were narrow, his lips pressed thin. He stepped closer to Rosie and took her shoulders, gently turning her around again, and he pulled open one of the wing slits to get a better look. Her bra band was surrounded above and below by small white scars; some round, some long and thin. They crisscrossed and overlapped in many places.

Rosie pulled away from him with a start and turned toward him, hiding her back. Her face was turning red, and she looked at him like he’d slapped her in the face.

“I-” she started.

“Don’t,” Droya said, reaching out and grabbing her hands before she could get further away.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said. “But when you want to, I’ll listen.”

Her eyes glistened and she tugged a hand away to wipe at them before tears fell.

“And you look perfect,” he said softly.

She smiled weakly.

“Th-thanks,” she said.

The saleswoman rushed up with an armful of clothes, and Rosie disappeared into the fitting room again. Droya retreated to the back of the store, anticipating that he’d probably be waiting for a while still, based on the growing quantity of clothes vanishing into the fitting room with Rosie. He tinkered with the idea of tracking down Rosie’s ex-boyfriend and destroying him with sharp things, slowly.

Layessa was watching him with a serious look on her face.

“Forget everything I said,” she told him quietly when he leaned against the wall next to her. “She’s absolutely adorable, and if you don’t want her, I’ll take a shot at her.”

Droya chuckled, but Layessa’s face was stonily grim and a little predatory as she eyed the fitting room doors.

“What’s she doing here, anyway?” the woman asked.

“Ah, she got a job working for a councilmember. Some project. I don’t really know,” Droya admitted sheepishly.

Layessa raised an eyebrow and drew back with a low hiss.

“Kandasha Somme’s brother is working for the council?!” she said, a little too loudly.

Droya flinched from the accusatory tone, his nose flaring.

“I can’t exactly afford to be choosy,” he said and crossed his arms.

“No, no,” Layessa said, backpedaling. “I was just surprised. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I’m not my brother,” Droya said flatly.

“I’m sorry,” Layessa said again. “I didn’t mean anything, really.”

Droya sighed in frustration. They both knew exactly what she meant by it.

“It’s fine,” he snapped.

The two bodyguards stood in awkward silence until Layessa’s client exited the fitting room with a couple outfits and followed her sales associate to the counter near the front of the store. Layessa gave Droya a tight smile as she turned away.

“Good luck with the human,” she said.

“Thanks,” Droya said robotically.

Droya ground his teeth and watched the demon and her client leave the store.

“That seemed unpleasant,” Zete said from his perch on a shelf up above Droya’s head.

Droya’s breath caught in his throat.

He’d forgotten Zete was there.

Droya closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Your brother famous or something?” Zete asked.

“I really don’t like talking about him,” Droya said. He felt like an idiot. How had he not realized that Zete heard all that?

“We don’t have to talk about him,” Zete said, and flew over to a rack of clothes nearby, more at Droya’s eye level.

“We could talk about you and Rosie,” he said, snickering.

“Or we could not talk at all,” Droya said through clenched teeth.

“Hmmmm,” Zete said. “No, I think I feel like talking.”

Droya glared at the pixie silently.

Zete sighed.

“You’re no fun,” he said, sitting down on the top of the clothing rack and dangling his feet.

“All I was going to say was that I think she likes you, too. You should talk to her about it.”

Droya shook his head, his eyes going automatically to the closed fitting room door.

“She already laughed at the idea the first night,” he said dourly. “And that was before I let her get kidnapped.”

“Pffft,” Zete exclaimed. “First of all, she was drunk and had just met you when she said that stuff, and secondly, she doesn’t seem to be mad at you about saving her from those creeps. I mean, you did spend the night with her last night, didn’t you?”

Droya hissed quietly and walked closer to the pixie.

“Nothing happened,” he said, his hand slicing through the air. “She was upset and she didn’t want to be alone. I just kept an eye on her, that’s it.”

“And what was that with her shirt just now?” Zete asked. “She got upset and you said something to make her feel better, you even touched her hands. Did you see her face? You were looking right at her. Droya, she likes you.”

“That was… nothing,” Droya said. “I was the one that upset her, anyway. I just keep making things worse.”

“You should talk to her about it,” Zete insisted. “Tell her the truth – like you promised.”

Droya took a step back.

Telling someone the truth didn’t mean telling them everything. Besides, he had only promised to try to answer questions truthfully. She’d have to ask him to really invoke the contract. And what if he did tell her, and she rejected him? What if she felt too awkward being around him and she found a different bodyguard? He had been so ready to find her a replacement yesterday when he felt like a failure. Though he still blamed himself, he had already started getting used to the idea of keeping this job, and it’s juicy paycheck.

“I don’t want to screw up this job,” he told Zete unconvincingly. “I don’t even really know how I feel about her, anyway.”

Zete pushed himself off the rack and fell about a foot, then zipped up and hovered a few inches from Droya’s face.

“Good thing we didn’t make a contract to tell each other the truth,” he said snippily, and zipped to the front of the store to wait and give Droya some space.

Droya went back to the wall and leaned his shoulders against it hard, crossing his arms and glowering at the brightly lit clothing store.

He would do as he promised her at the shadow theater, even if she didn’t know he had made her a promise. He would keep her safe and let her go back to her life when her job was done, and he would go back to his life when his job was done. Nothing would change. Nothing needed to change. His feelings might be real, but he refused to be a distraction or a burden to Rosie. She had obviously been through enough, and her new job would keep her busy. She wouldn’t have time to humor his childish crush.

Nothing would change.

Nothing needed to change.