Written In Blood | Countryhumans AU

Headliners

People talk and talk and talk. Word vomit all over the damn paper. Oh but I do love it. Unity tried their hand, but they always had bad cards. Listening to the endless ranting of some radio news teller is funny. People can be so dumb.

"Union, I hate how bad this is making me, us, look." Harlow said, placing a folded newspaper on my desk.

"It will blow over."

"How can you be sure?"

"Remember Watergate?"

"Water- oh. Oh." I nod as he looks into space.

"Knowing how fast news is, people will forget. Causing a little scandal elsewhere would make them forget." A phone call draws him away. I feel a pin prick in my back. Damn these safety pins. Damn this height! Ever since I split nothing fits, I can't wear any of my old civil war stuff, too small, not even the westward expansion stuff would fit. NOTHING FITS!

Since nothing fits anymore. Time for my seventh new wardrobe. Un-tying the shoelace 'belt' as soon as it was off my slacks fell down. Almost five feet shorter, and wearing everything with safety pins. Even down to the undergarments. No shoes either. But alas I have finally gotten into the tailor. Sitting in the now large chair, waiting. The tailor walks in and signals me to get onto the stand. He pulls out the twenty foot

Tape measure and tie it around my ankle. Jotting down the number. His partner is doing the same on the other side. I stood as still as possible, one wrong measurement and I would have to do this all over again. I looked at the tailor, he nodded at every measurement. They moved up my leg, doing my calves at the same time.

"You have made some bold moves recently, sir." the tailor fills the silence. His pencil scratched on the paper. "I respect it though. It's time for change." I nodded, finally someone who understands. Both of them broke out the step stools, sitting carefully on the edge, wrapping the tape measure around my knees. When he was done he moved up to my thigh. I felt him pull the tape measure back up. He turned to his partner and handed him the clipboard. Pulling it around my lower hips, then up on my waist. Doing the outside leg to ankle, then the inside. How awkward, especially when my boxers are being held up by safety pins. Good thing they don't care, I mean, they get closer to anyone as a stranger than maybe best friends do. He stands on the ladder and goes to the bottom of my ribcage. Then my bust, ugh. Shoulders, neck, arms. Shoulder to wrist, armpit to waist. Neck to wrist, then finally, around my head. Nodding he climbs down and goes over the measurements.

"That's all, sir. These are the measurements, and I'll give you a moment to pick out the styles and fill out the forms." handing the papers. In comparison to my past measurements, I'm so small. Picking up the style book, checking off most of the suits I already own, from the classic 50s ones, to more modern colors and cuts. New jackets, maybe a new style. Heh. I look around the shop, seeing the displays. Picking out the best. My eyes land on a blue and black checkered suit. Black vest with an embroidered white trim, oh. Blue jacket and pants with black trim. They are the good old fit-and, I'm getting carried away...
Screw it. Ordering the three sets.

"I'll get back to you with a date of when they will be finished, sir." I hand the papers to him.

"Could I get a copy of the measurements?" I ask. The tailor nods and puts them down on a small notepad. I take them and leave.

So, now what.

Snapping my head, before shaking it off. Can you not do that Federal.

Nope.

Glaring at the ground, my glasses slide down my nose. Pushing the comical lenses back up, getting to the giant car. It's not the worst. The only bad thing is that the seat jammed.