Room 512, Thursday Morning

[doesnotkneel]

It had struck Edward that he looked somewhat out of place here. The clothes he wore, especially. So he had gone to the bank to trade what little coin he had on him for the local tender - which was not enough, but he was trying to remain on the right side of the law instead of defaulting to a brief fascination with pickpocketing from his youth.

It had taken some haggling - they had insisted they did not haggle, but that just meant you had to haggle harder - but he had at least managed to buy a shirt... and now that it was the next morning and he had to get dressed, he was giving the shirt a decent examination. It had a hood, that much was familiar, and it was white-- but he couldn't tell what kind of fabric it was made of.

He cast it back onto the bed and contemplated his choices: look a bit silly with this odd shirt pulled over his breeches, or look a bit backward - and rather smelly, for a place like this, which was just ridiculously pristine - with his old clothes.

That this meant he was standing shirtless in front of the open door, he didn't particularly care about. It was warm in here anyway.

[[ open post, open door ]]

Comments

[doesnotkneel]

"I'll make certain I do," Edward said, his mouth curving up. "Not that I have any lack of love for my previous garments, but I believe there's some wisdom in dressing to fit your environs."

Also: latent peacock tendencies. (God help them all when he finally decided to take them to their ultimate conclusion.)

[notacokeperson.livejournal.com]

"Some people never get the hang of dressing to blend with the locals," Karina said agreeably.

She judged most of those people hard.

"Though I guess I can't talk. I didn't have to change a thing about my wardrobe."

[doesnotkneel]

"Lucky thing," Edward agreed. "Though I gather the impression we've all got some adjustments to make here, to settle in."