He had been moping, but he would never call it that. He called it his tired lazing about pretending everything was fine and dandy. But Strel was definitely not as cheery as he could have been. There was little to do, since the snowstorm had set things into perspective for some, and the demand for new pieces of work was a little limited for him. Not that he minded, he did not like being swamped with work, but he did enjoy being busy to keep his hands working and his mind preoccupied. But the redhead was staying away from the booze cruises he had been prone to taking. Noss had demonstrated his not so thrilled attitude about the drinking and it was not something Strel really wanted to do in the middle of the day. He needed other distractions. Other drugs were probably the choice. But he just sort of wallowed that day rather than seek someone to supply him.

Strel was leaning out of one of the downstairs windows, feeling the cold wind ruffle his mane into tangles. He ignored it, looking blankly at the snowed ground below him. Ear twitching, he looked off into the distance, craning his neck a tad as he heard the call somewhere on the borders. Brows furrowing, Strel heard it was for him, the request ringing in his head as he slipped out of the window and back into the hotel. It seemed like that one leader wanted him for something, and he complied. Stopping in his studio, he took his jacket. While unnecessary, the leather covering was something he coveted as something his vanity demanded.

By the time he got the borders, time had slipped by. It took much longer than the tailor thought it would, but he had not been rushing all that much to tell the truth. The entire time had been spent looking at the path ahead and only thinking of putting one foot in front of the other. So the moment he saw Shawchert before him, the redheaded man bowed his head slightly in respect, and apologized. "I'm sorry for the delay." He gave no explanation to his delay, and stood a few feet from the man. "Is there something you needed?"

Strel rolled his shoulders as he listened to the man, ignoring the way the leather sounded as his body moved beneath it. It was still not broken in, but the man liked it quite a bit and ignored the fact it was still not fully supple and flexible. So Shawchert had himself a lady, fancy that. "Congrats," he offered, a bemused grin appearing on his face. Seemed as though more and more Luperci were interested in the ways of the humans and what they had offered. This, though, was probably the most drastic thing he had ever heard of. And it fully amused him to no end. A wedding huh? He had heard of them, from someone telling him what they had read on it. It was some kind of official mating celebration. Seemed silly. An announcement was all that was needed but the extravagance of it was something the redhead could not easily ignore. Sounded fun.

Still listening intently, the tailor took the old paper into his hands and his lavender eyes soaked in the image of the human male in a suit, smiling. They were always smiling, probably to make people think they were always happy. It seemed easy enough. It would be interesting to adapt to Shawchert's size, but it was easy to manage. Nothing challenging, but it would keep him busy. "Hmm," he hummed, musing as he looked at the old picture, wishing it was bigger, better, more crystal clear so he could see where those seams were. Maybe he could find a shop in town that still had dusty suits like this. But even then, he would need to know this huge man's size.

"Easy enough. I'll find a large suit in Halifax and fix it to fit. If not, I'll let you know and we'll go from scratch but that would take longer," he warned, wondering what to do with the picture. Keep it or give it back? Smirking, the redhead cocked his head. "Oh, I demand a great trade. But flute lessons, that sounds delightful. I think I'll ask for those. And..," he paused, smiling slyly as always, ".. an invitation to that wedding of yours." It was not much, and it was odd, considering he barely knew Shawchert and the bride-to-be not at all. But hey, he wanted to see what they were going to pull off. "If you agree to that, better get to my studio so I can get your measurements down and then we can both be on our individual merry ways."

Strel nodded at the time limit set on him. He would have it done early for this leader, just to give time for fitting and refitting as they were likely to happen. Strel had no immediate access to Shawchert's presence as was necessary to the constant alterations he would need to make. It would be a bit tedious, seeking out the man every now and then, so he needed to get as many measurements now as he could to ensure it would all be done faster with fewer inquiries. "I know the months, vaguely enough. But that is not the point. I'll have a first version finished for you in a couple of weeks, maybe less even. I don't know, I haven't done something this big - in grandness, not size - in a long time. It doesn't help I never did something like this either, but I'm sure I'll be a month shy of your date. Should be okay though." He was confident, but that was Strel for you. Cocky and proud.

The price seemed too low to the stranger. Well, he was not about to argue with him, but he was scarcely picky at some times. Strel shook his head a bit, raising his arm. "Really, it's fine. But since you do offer, we can always figure something out later." The redhead was not familiar with machines, and he had no idea what kind of things this man could rig up for him. But maybe.. maybe a better built mannequin? He could use something that was more adjustable, able to change based on what sizes his design needed, but that seemed beyond complicated; he had not even seen any from human trash. Or maybe they had all been decayed? Maybe Shawchert could help. "But sounds fair. We should get going now if you want a suit by your wedding," he suggested, grinning sheepishly as he waved the other man across the border and into the kingdom. He would behave, that was easy to see.

Strel grinned broadly, turning on his heels as the man crossed the border. Since he had invited him over, it was all now okay for the big man to be in the kingdom without trespassing. It would be a matter of time before they reached the hotel and the redhead man's studio. To pass the time, he asked a few question, base in their essence. "How is your pack doing? Everyone behaving themselves?" he asked lightly, unaware of anything that may have happened inside of their borders, away from the eyes of others. "When is this performance I've been catching whispers of?" He sent a lavender glance at Shawchert as he walked his instinctual path back to his home.

In a little while, the two of them arrived in the hotel and the tailor led the man into the studio. Thankfully its doors were fine and still solid and free of rot. Shutting it behind them to give some privacy for a man working on his life work, Strel told the man to stand next to the wall. He absently gestured at the wall, where he had long since nailed in a fully extended measuring tape to the plaster, embedding it in the wooden framework. "Okay, gotta know how tall you are, what your measurements are at the shoulders, chest, waist, hips, legs and pretty much a lot of other silly gibberish." Strel took his sketchbook, half full as it was, and turned to a fresh page. Mindlessly licking the pencil in his hands, he drew a strange bubbled stick figure, with lines pointing to the areas he needed measurements. "And if you can, you should write your name on here, just so I remember." Strel could not read, but if it was signed in another's hand, he would recognize the word as the name.

The storm had been rather strong for them here, but it had not harmed a soul which was always a good thing. The kingdom was still running strong as before, though they were still, as ever, a mismatched group of misfits. "That's good. We had a couple of idiots from our kingdom go out and try to find supplies in the middle of the storm. They came back fine though," he said absently, knowing fully well one of those idiots had been his idiot, Noss, and he was no member of Cours. For now, at least. Strel knew he would eventually try to convince that man to join him here, rather than going with his sister to AniWaya. But that seemed selfish of him, even as he thought of it.

"Well, good. I look forward to it. And if you need help with something and I can do something about it, then please call on me. After all, I'm like the pack member away from the pack," he added jokingly. Strel was more suited for their pack, even if his personality fit Cours just as much. But he was unsure how Shawchert would take that little bit of humor.

As Shawchert wrote down his name in the book, the redheaded tailor took a note to memorize it and know it for this man's name. Maybe one day he'd learn to read properly. But that day seemed far in coming. Taking the charcoal pencil, he pushed the man against the wall so he'd stand straight and then took the measurement of his height. What a tall one. "I don't know. I've been doing it for so long. I've been doing it since before I came here. When I was just a kid in my home pack, I had done it in secret." Strel took his second measuring tape and measured the man's shoulders and looked at the nailed one on the wall for how long the other man's arms were. All that went down on the paper. "I learned on my own, by finding those old human patterns in old houses and then figuring out on my own what would match their styles. Most of it was accompanied with lots of pricked fingers that made my family suspicious when I would walk home with sore front paws." Naturally he had not really mentioned that his home pack had been traditionalists.

"Damn straight they'll learn. I'll freakin' beat him if he does something that stupid again." Strel was still bitter that Noss had left so willingly from the hotel during the blizzard. But then again, he did not seem like the kind of guy to sit around when there was something good to be done elsewhere. And since that other man, Rurik's boy, had suggested a scavenging party, Noss volunteered. Strel had not panicked, but he had been concerned, most definitely. But he had returned safely, both he and Anatoliy, and he was happy they were both okay, but mostly because Noss was alright. He was sure that the Russo man's woman had chided him. But he bet that she had applauded him for his actions. They seemed like that kind of pair.

Nodding, Strel go the girth of the man's legs at their thickest and thinnest, his arms, and his chest. Broad shouldered man.. It made the redhead think about Noss, shaking his head lightly, he wrote what he got down. "Yep. They did not like the whole human thing. I had to learn to play music in secret too. I'm sure my mother knew but she never said anything. Then again, she had been born like me and my siblings. She knew what we could be. Anyway..," he said, nodding his head at Shawchert. "They were traditionalists. Didn't like the whole two legger thing much. So I learned to sew based off of old books and magazines and with dirty rags. But I made my own clothes by the time I left so.. I think all is well that ends well."

Strel waved at Shawchert to step away from the tape. "Done. Now, you want black, right? Like that picture? Just flat? And that man was wearing a white shirt and.. I think it's a tie? I'm not sure how to make a tie. But did you want that shirt underneath as well?"

Strel listened silently, as he straightened up things a bit. He grabbed the tape one last time and took the very last of the measurements that he needed from Shawchert. It was fast to finish and at last he put down his pencil with a soft clink on the wooden table. Sighing the redhead faced the much bigger man. His story was like his, he felt. Strel enjoyed people's stories, but some more so than others. But this story was one he was happy to hear shared with him. Bur the work was at hand and it was his focus right now.

He would leave finding the tie to the pack leader. "Then you might have to find it. Match it to your woman's dress. If hers is white, flatter her eyes." Only a man like Strel could have given advice like this. Who else knew vest how girls thought? And men, too? "But if she has strange eyes or you can't find a matching one, I'll make one. But I'll need a sample to work with. Oh if she has a white dress with a color accent or flowers. You can match that." Oh yes, it was complicated as hell.

But now that left their first discussion. "I found this bangle," he said, shaking his wrist. "And a bunch of human jewelry. Shiny silver and gold. Rings, necklaces, gems. And this is all I hid before my alpha took the jewelry box away from me. I think I hid it with my loot after that." His tone was bitter. Then guilty as he remembered his abandonment of his lute. "Other stories I interest me. Especially like mine. So do tell. I'm here to listen. Consider it a payment." Strel certainly thought it was fair, considering that Shawchert had not felt satisfied with the original, intended cost for all the work that was going to happen.

Strel saw the way Shawchert's face practically fell at the list he had given. Half of him was pleased by the reaction. The other part was a tad guilty, but this was what he saw. Any old picture of a human in a tux was usually accompanied by a tie. If his woman wanted a marriage akin to the human ones, let her have it. Shaw clearly wanted to please the woman; a sign of his affection but also her influence over him. That was what made him laugh a bit, since Strel himself would never be held on a leash by a woman. No, he was good at holding a leash himself. Maybe it was just femininity and the instinct inherent with that trait. Or maybe Strel wad a tad sadistic and wanted a clueless straight man to feel the wrath of style ignorance. Whichever.

The redhead listened calmly to the man, crossing his arms over his chest. Cried rape huh? That did not seem remotely fair. And the leader this man's own father? Talk about a strained and hateful relationship. Strel had never been close to his own father, but that was much. And to be made omega? That was not a relationship full of familial affection. Even the redheaded man cared for his father, but then again, his father did not chase him out of his home. He just judged and was disappointed. Nothing the redhead paid attention to.

"That sounds foul. Cried rape and your father chases you out? I'm sorry but your father is an asshole. Did he even listen to your side or was your status as omega, which was his fault as well, used against you?" Strel grunted in disgust, feeling annoyed at people these days. "But here you are. A leader of your own pack, showing up your father effectively. Good for Shaw; even if his father had no idea now. It was a personal victory.

Strel chuckled at the leader before him, amused that once upon a time this tower of flesh was the runt of a litter, of a family, of a pack. Who would ever have seen that this man would have his own pack with people looking up to him for support and leadership. But really, if only his old man could have seen it; it would have been sweet. Or maybe it was better not to see the things that were the cause of old pain; those kinds of feelings had a way of sticking around long after the occasions had happened. Strel would not have been happy to see the leaders of his own pack, but he did miss people from home, as he was sure Shawchert did as well. But as long as the now was good, that was enough.

Sighing, the redhead stopped leaning heavily on his table, hearing it creak under his weight. "Well, I have your measurements, so if you want to leave, feel free to do so; I can start on it now, or perhaps tomorrow, depending on supplies. But don't worry about anything for a while." Strel smiled easily at the other man, well aware that the business transaction had happened and the payment was hanging in the air; but he was far more liberal about payment times and repayment. Really, eventually was good enough. "If you ever want to come see it, feel free. If anyone stops you, let them know you're here with my permission."