A Kiss of Crimson

Chapter 5

Adrian chuckles in an off color, rather creepy manner. "Do you or don't ya? That should be a simple enough question."

Greg stares at the man with long silver hair a moment not sure what to make of this strange fellow. He takes a deep breath with his eyes downcast and ponders the question that should be so simple but he has no honest answer for. He finally decides that he has no reason to lie to this stranger and speaks what's been weighing heavily on his heart. "I am in love with someone that can never fully love me. Our families would disapprove and should they ever find out, we would be disowned, outcasts..." he blurts out quickly feeling the truth behind his words but the relief of sharing them lifting a hard burden on his soul.

The tall man dressed in all black nods thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "I see... quite the predicament you seem to have there." He looks up at Greg with a sly grin and an otherworldly sparkle to his emerald eyes. "It seems you must make a choice young man, and soon. Life is a fleeting thing and to waste it on unrequited love seems quite the tragedy... haven't you already lost someone close to you?" He asks as he turns away heading down the busy avenue.

Greg is left to his own thoughts as the old man's words hit home. Suddenly he looks up realizing that there was no way a stranger would know about his brother's funeral the day before.  "H-Hey! Wait up!" He says running off after the man in black but after a few steps stops. There is no trace of Mr. Craven in the thick crowds and Greg is left standing alone as people shove past him going about their business. "How...?" He says to himself and shakes his head going back the way he came. "Crazy old coot... never should have spoken to him..." the red head grumbles as he passes the jewlry store again. He sneaks a quick look back in the window at the rings on display but doesn't stop, walking on until he finally arrives at his family's shop.

Greg pulls a set of keys from his pocket and unlocks the door entering. Overhead a wooden sign in crimson and black states "McCullough and Sons: Fine Taylors since 1736"  As he enters he flips the sign on the door over showing that the shop is now open for business and he passes by several maniquins wearing fitted suits and other finery suitable for the nobel classes. He tosses the keys on the counter and heads over to a tuxedo full of sewing pins and a measure tape draped over the shoulders and resumes the work his brother had left unfinished.