His Soul

Restoration

The figurines found their way on the edge of your desk, facing you as you tackled your day-to-day work. It made a lovely decoration to your space, adding more color and giving you the proud opportunity to present yourself to your clients. If anyone asked, it was commissioned work you'd gotten from an artist, and if anyone implored about the tall clown next to it, you were willing to shrug it off and say that you found it somewhere online.

...Sure, you'd be lying, but what else could you say? 'My magical jester friend made it for me! You should meet him!' ...That was out of the question!

As you sat down and got to business, your eyes kept moving over to your newly-acquired gifts. At first, it was in awe, admiring the presents made for you and appreciating them as much as you did the night you'd gotten them. But after a week of staring at the statuettes, it was clear that Curioso's small likeness was reminding you of a matter you'd been avoiding.

It would be best if the both of you confronted it sooner rather than later.

With a long breath, you stood from your desk and walked upstairs into your apartment, where you knew he would be sorting through folders of your pictures. You were going to arrange them in a better fashion, find any from your previous cases and move them into their proper dossiers. But that was something you were going to worry about later...what was on your mind now was much more important.

You leaned in the doorway and watched as Curioso's long fingers flipped through your carefully-laminated photographs. He was observing each of them, lingering on an individual picture before moving to the next. He must've been so absorbed in this process that he hadn't noticed your arrival. You didn't bother announcing yourself or even clearing your throat - the matter found its way out of your mouth before you could stop it.

"We need to talk about something."

Your friend jumped a good foot in the air, whipping around to you in surprise. A weird feeling of satisfaction momentarily filled you, as you had never startled him like this. He was always the one stumbling upon you, producing himself out of thin air whenever he chose to teleport. He could be talkative when you got going in a conversation, but he was always so quiet about moving around your space. Usually, the tell-tale sign of him would be his bells, if he produced enough movement to stir them.

"About what?" He inquired, gently setting your folder down on the table.

He sounded nervous. You felt so, too. You hadn't rehearsed this conversation before having it. You felt worried you were going to say something stupid. How could you tread on such fragile ground without having any practice?

"About...you." Your shoulders slumped as you gestured to him. "Your, ah, situation." At his confusion, you decided to be a bit more detailed. "I'm talking about your clothes. They're a mess, and I want to change that."

He slowly rose to his feet, his gaze never leaving yours, even as you had to angle your head upwards when his taller stature towered over you.

"And how do you intend on doing that ?" He asked curiously. You knew your cheeks were beet red right now.

"Well...for starters, maybe I can wash that costume of yours. And, uh, Audrey can help me sew up any holes or...whatever else needs fixed with it."

"Why bother? I'm in control of what I look like. If I wanted a hole mended, I would do it myself. Without ever touching any of the fabric, mind you." He was boasting, and something in you wanted to lower his ego. You couldn't have him walking around in such a state and feeling fine with it.

"Then why don't you do it?" You challenged him.

"Maybe because I don't want to?" He cautiously took a step back from you. "Un-Unless you've suddenly come up with a strict dress code that I don't know about..?"