Mars had been busy all morning, trying his hardest to get this clothing done. He had been working on many projects at one time (something to keep his mind busy so that Bartholomew couldn't take over; which was failing by the way) and one of them was figuring out what sizes he would be dealing with by now. Orin had gotten noticeably bigger since Mars had met her, became a full woman before his eyes really, and it was time to figure out what dress size she was sporting now simply on the memory of what she looked like. He was pretty good at estimating how much room would be needed on the dress, but he had been having some trouble remembering some things because of the memory block that Bartholomew capped on Mars at random times. The lapse would result in a quick onset headache, Mars imagined it as Bartholomew having a bat and he would hit Mars in the head with it every time he wanted to be a jerk. It'd make Mars take a deep breathe and he had growled lightly at him and then remind Bartholomew that it was his memory of Orin, not Bart's. He had gotten himself passed the straps of the dress, and he would be working on the bust when he would be hit with a huge headache that he had to get up and walk it off.
He had walked around the confines of his room for a few minutes before the smell of tea had sunk under the door and was bothering his sensitive nose. He wondered what time it was. Was it tea time? Mars went to his window then and pushed the blanket covering his window out of the way and he had looked outside. It was past tea time. The sun had started to fall in the sky, by about three hours on Mars' internal clock that had been programmed by his mother. He had spent some time doing clothing. He had been working on Itzal's pants before he had been working on Orin's gift. (he wanted to surprise her with a new dress so she could be beautiful, and so she knew that he was there for her.) He then thought about how Krystalle could help him. She was a pretty curvy woman, and she was a good model, so she could help him with the dress. It'd suck having to explain to her that it wasn't for her. Maybe he'd take up another project and make her a dress as well, just so he wouldn't have to explain. He could pass it off as a surprise for her. Sounded like a good plan to him.
The woman had come to him before he had gone to her though. He heard a voice from outside his door, asking him if he was busy. Mars then decided that it would be a good time to stop, have a cup of tea and maybe play his guitar for his other-half's friend. Might as well entertain since Bartholomew wasn't around to. Mars didn't want Bartholomew around to entertain. Mars wanted to be greedy with his body and actually be who he was. Mars said fuck you to Bartholomew several times this morning if one was listening enough to hear him yelling at himself like an old, insane wolf. He moved away from the window and picked up his guitar. He piles all of his fabrics together in a pile to the side so that it wouldn't look like he was working too much on them. He then walked over to the door and he opened it for the woman. No. I'm ready for tea. his cool voice allowed the words to coldly pass his lips. He allowed her in, if only because she had tea in her hands(true intentions hidden), and he put the guitar back down on the bed really quick before he had taken a cup from her. He nodded his head and took a sip of tea. Thanks for the tea. the man thanked the woman. She knew how much he liked tea. That was no secret. What can I do for you, Krystalle? the man asked, wondering why she had went through the whole process of making him some tea.