I waited for you

Strelein von Rosnete · 05-14-2011, 09:35 PM

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300+
sorry for delay

Strel almost laughed at the man as he navigated the mud, thinking him perhaps a tad bit too prissy to be bothering to go outside during the rainy spring. But he bit it back, knowing that he was much the same about mud. He watched this performance, eyes showing his amusement at it all. That was why Strel had avoided the mud; cleaning it off was a pain and required so much time. He had a personal rule that a dirty body was not allowed in his studio or into his bedroom. The studio was self explanatory; the clothes had to be clean and professional. But he demanded cleanliness in his room as the mural on the wall was something he was proud of and did not want dirtied. That and the bedding was a hassle to wash.

"Yeah, really. I'm a tailor," he repeated, rolling his eyes. It was not like he lied the first time around. He was a tailor, end of story. Denver probably had not seen his studio in the Hotel yet, or perhaps he had not been there yet. "Oh definitely fun. I've made enough dresses, pants, shirts, you name it, to cloth a small canine army," he joked, wondering how his fingers remained intact after all of that. But he was very good at what he did. There was less amateur and more professional in him now. "It's not too hard once you do it for over two years." Strel shrugged a bit, rolling his shoulders against the wood of the tree.

"Pay me?" inquired the redhead, looking up at the garbed mutt. "I don't really have a payment plan, but I do do trades for things, like services or favors or item trades, that sort of thing. But if you can't do much else, just find me bottles of booze in good condition and it'll be a deal," he said plainly. Then he shrugged again, looking back into the heart of the clearing. "But the amount varies on what you want from me. And how hard the material was to find." Strelein scratched at his head absently, running fingers through loose locks. He ought to make himself a hair-tie soon. The man's request got a confused look from the man, whose lavender eyes shot up back at him. "Cigarette? Nah, don't have one, don't smoke. Or at least never have." He did not really plan to start.

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