Killian was very happy with the fabric.

“So let me get this right,” Emily said as she worked professionally at setting up her sewing machine. 

Gisco, as always, knew what was coming had arranged a very large table for her to both cut her pattern and sew it together.

Killian still did not understand what the machine was for or even that it was a machine. If he gave it any thought, he thought maybe it was something to hold onto the fabric as the woman sewed. The electric scissors she brought out to cut the fabric were fascinating and entirely unsettling. He’d clearly come back to a world filled with fae magic. He’d never been on the best terms with the European fae.

“Would it cost a lot extra to have the clothes made without magic? Oberon and I are not on the best terms.”

“I don’t know what kind of role you’re preparing for,” Emily said, giving him a grandmotherly stare, “But I’ll play along. I don’t use magic, Mr. Marlowe. Would you like to hold the electric scissors?” 

“No, thank you,” he said. He actually scooted the chair back a bit. 

Emily squinted at him, lifted her electric scissors and pointed them at him. “You a big strong adult man, but you’re afraid of these, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.  Enchanted objects do what they do and Oberon is likely still angry at me.” 

“Oberon, like from Shakesphere? The king of the fairies? What the fuck did you do him?”

“Well,” Killian started, “It was Midsummer. I had been invited to the celebration because of my wolf nature.”

“Your wolf nature? Is that like a New Age Wiccan kind of thing?”

“No, I’m a werewolf.” Killian said. He accepted the cup of tea that Gisco brought him. 

“So you’re a method actor?”

“Yes, he’s a very committed method actor,” Gisco said. Gisco’s smile was smooth, very much a Hollywood manager smile. “He is not going to turn into a big wolf.” He said that while glaring intensely at Killian.

Killian’s smile twitched. “It wouldn’t hurt anything if I did.” 

“Well, I’d probably fall over dead from shock, if you did,” Emily said. “I’m afraid of dogs.”

“Wolves are not dogs,” Killian pointed out.

“No, they’re way worse! They’re bigger and I doubt they’ll sit when commanded and be happy to have an ear scratch.” 

“But a wolf will defend you from attackers and share its hunt with you.”

“Maybe, but I hunt at the supermarket and we’ll call the police if we’re attacked.”

Killian looked at Gisco.

Gisco shrugged, “Like the city guard, but more inclined to shoot people with dark skin.” 

“Why,” Killian asked, eyes wide. “Is this something to do with when they were holding them as slaves still?”

“ACAB,” Emily said vehemently. 

“ACAB,” Gisco agreed with just as much venom. 

“What does that mean,” Killian asked. 

“All cops are bastards,” Gisco said in Latin. “Yes, they say that police started out as slave catchers in the south.” 

“I don’t believe that,” Killian said firmly. “If they are like the city guard they devoted men who live to protect the people. Occasionally they collect a bribe, but that’s just business.”

“And women. There are women police too,” Emily pointed out.

“Nonsense,” Killian nearly shouted back. His idea of a woman was a person in a gown, hair tied up with flowers, who liked flowers and poetry. “Now I know the two of you are playing a prank on me.”

Emily shook out the front of his coat before she sat down at the sewing machine to start putting it together. “This movie you’re preparing for, is it set in the Dark Ages?”

“What movie,” Killian asked. 

“Yes,” Gisco answered for him, “It’s about a werewolf in the Medieval period.” He laid a hand on Killian’s shoulder. “The werewolf ends up being transported to the modern world and is very lost and shocked.” 

“Well, I can imagine that would be a great shock! Just wait till he finds out that women can vote!”

“What,” Killian shouted, “When did that happen? That’s ridiculous!” 

Emily pulled a pair of reading glasses from a pocket on her sleeve and rested them on her nose. “Yes, Mr. Wolf, woman can vote. Why is that ridiculous?”

“Well, it gives a man two votes! Women are emotional creatures, the source of all that is good in the world, but countries should be ruled by a just king.” 

“Well, that could not get more Medieval. Sweetie, women and men are not that different.”

Killian’s mouth dropped open and for a moment he just stared. He grabbed Gisco’s arm. “In France too?”

“France too,” Gisco said. “French women got the vote after World War II.” 

“World War II? How many have there been?”

“Two,” Gisco said, patting Killian’s hand on his arm. “There have been other spats too, but they didn’t involve the whole world. I’m sorry, boss. I stopped importing the newspapers after the French Revolution started. You were just so upset.”

“It’s alright, Gisco. I noticed the papers stopped. If I’d really wanted to know, I would have asked about it. What else should I know?”

“Well, you should get your head out of your ass. Men and women are equal.” 

“Of course they are,” Killian said indignantly. “That doesn’t change the fact that I am much bigger and stronger than Iris is. If she’s being attacked it is my duty and honor to defend her.” 

“Okay, big guy. Your buddy here is smaller than you. Do you have to defend him too?”

“Should he need it, yes. I have defended Gisco many times. Gisco has defended me many times. He’s much more dangerous than he looks.” 

“So this woman you like was being attacked at her work place, you swooped in like a knight in shining armor, defended her, then she got mad at you?”

“Yes.” 

“And you don’t understand why?”

“Yes.” 

“Because she thinks she can take care of herself and she thinks you don’t think she can.”

“Why would she think she could fight a person or threat so much bigger than she is?” Killian asked. He leaned a bit to try to watch what the machine was doing to the fabric. It was doing much more than just holding pieces together.  “Did you make this machine? You swear Oberon has nothing to do with it?”

“I didn’t make this machine. I’m lucky if I can clear a stuck thread. I have nothing to do with Oberon. Tell me again what you did to piss him off? Did you defend him against an attacker too?”

“No, we were both in our cups and he was deeply troubled when we woke up together.” 

“Oh gay panic!” 

“The fae are not always acting in good faith.”

“I have heard that about them,” Emily said as she started working on the lapel. “So why the bright colors in your clothes?”

“Beau Brummell was wrong. The man is always more flamboyant.” 

“Peacock.” 

“Exactly!”

“Fine, then try on this coat.” Emily held out the unfinished shell of his jacket. 

He made an elegant little grunt and rose to get the garment.  He slipped it on, turned around so the tails flared out, posed in front of the mirror, nodding.

“Also, just in case you didn’t know this November we’re going to elect the first female president and she’s black and south east asian.” 

“What?” Killian stared at her. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”