Summary: Arthur is taken completely by surprise after being sent by Ada to get a new suit
Word count: 1322
Warnings: Awkward adorable Arthur. He gets a bit nervous and anxious.
Author's Note: This was only supposed to be around 500-700 words. Big fail.
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This place seemed far too swanky for Arthur, he felt completely out of place, but Ada had insisted he come. "Trust me Arthur, they're the best tailors in London... you won't be disappointed." Looking at himself in the mirror out front of the change room, he had to agree. The pants and shirt were the nicest things he had ever worn, and he hadn't even tried on the jacket yet. But still, no matter how much money he had lining his pockets, this place just felt a little too fancy for a boy from Small Heath. Maybe Tommy could get away with it, but him? Not a chance.
Walking up behind him, jacket in hand, came the attendant who helped him with his fittings last week, his posh London accent and manner doing nothing to ease Arthur's inner monologue. Walking in a circle around him, he looked him up and down and nodded, quite pleased with himself, "The shirt and pants are a perfect fit, they won't need any alterations at all."
Moving behind him, he held open the jacket so Arthur could put his arms in and slipped it up over his shoulders. Then walking back around, he adjusted the lapels and buttoned it up, before stepping back, looking slightly disappointed, "The jacket is going to need some tweaking." Placing a finger to his chin, the attendant sighed with thought. "It doesn't need much... I might get our seamstress to have a look, she's out the back. Otherwise, our tailor's back tomorrow if you want to wait." Unsure how to gauge Arthur's expression, he added, "She's very good... you won't be disappointed."
Arthur sniffed, visibly rolling his eyes as he adjusted the jacket, had this guy been talking to Ada? Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, "Yeah, alright, let her 'ave a look."
The attendant disappeared out back, leaving him in front of the mirror, and he couldn't help but admire the cut and feel of the fabric. Arthur knew he was hardly posh and refined like ninety nine percent of the shops cliental, but he knew a bloody good suit when he saw one. And this was one of the best.
Moving to the edge of the store counter, he was flicking through a collection of swatches, taken completely off guard when to the side of him, someone spoke, "Arthur? ..... Arthur Shelby?"
An oddly familiar voice which Arthur couldn't quite place, spoke his name. A voice from his childhood, only much more mature than he remembered. The edges to the Birmingham accent were a little softer, the volume somehow fuller, richer. A voice smoother than honey. 'Hmmm', he thought quite innocently, 'a man could get used to a sound like that.'
