Into the Ether - Complete

Autumn, Reaping What We've Sown: Part 2

My hand was tapping the steering wheel nervously as I sat parked on the side of the Court's runway waiting for Abe Mazur's plane to land with Alberta and Celeste. Dimitri had explained the plane would be coming in full – once word of a flight heading to Court got around, several Guardians had taken the opportunity to hitch a ride. Mazur had also made seats available for Dhampir students from the area to come home to visit their families for Christmas – although I suspect it was probably Rose who suggested he extend the offer. Either way, it was a kindness; there were several excited looking Dhampir women here waiting for their children to land.

I was nervous as hell; had been all day. I'd had to go into Guardian Headquarters earlier, so had worn a pair of new cargos I'd bought and a fine knit sweater. I'd modeled what I'd purchased on what Belikov wore. I wasn't kidding myself I was a six-foot-seven wall of sexy Russian as he was, but I'd noticed Rose slowly making over the man's off-duty wardrobe, and this was the sort of casual wear she put him in. It was a modern look I thought I could pull off.

I'd shaved and showered carefully. Shined my shoes, ironed my clothes and dressed. And when I'd walked into Guardian headquarters the hilarity had been immediate. The worst thing was, I had no idea why. I walked through headquarters hearing sniggers until I made my way to Erskine's office. I felt like such a fool. Mutton dressed as lamb. What the hell had I been thinking?

I could see Esme's lips twitching as I flung myself into a chair waiting for Mitchell. An unpromised Dhampir around my age, Esme had been my secretary and continued working for Mitchell once I'd stepped down as Chair of the Council. While we'd always had a professional relationship, we'd also known one another long enough to be honest with each other.

"What's so funny? After this, I finally have time off, so I have a chance to wear something casual, alright?!"

Esme looked at me apologetically.

"I'm sorry, you're right Art. It's just I've never seen cargos with a pleat ironed down the front. It's the least casual casual outfit I've seen," she explained.

"Oh. I only bought them the other day – I didn't realize they weren't worn that way," I said, my face flaming.

Perceptive, Esme probably had an idea I was trying to impress someone.

"Other than being a bit... starched... it's a really good look on you, Art," she complimented me. "Try taking off your belt and untucking your sweater." I did so immediately, and she smiled. She stood up and walked towards me. "May I?" she asked pointing to my hair.

I nodded. In for a dime, in for a dollar. She messed up my neat hair slightly, opening the bottom drawer of her desk to pull out a handbag sized tin of hairspray. She sprayed a bit in my hair – setting it in a casually tousled style.

"If you have time, put the cargos in the dryer for ten minutes. They'll still be wrinkle-free, but it will get rid of that pleat," she advised kindly. "And for future, jeans and cargos don't have pleats, both are usually worn more on the hips these days, shirts and sweaters are mostly worn tight but out, and a slightly messy look for hair or a bit of stubble looks sexy on a man."

"Thanks. I'm going to stay with friends for the holidays. It's been a long time since I've needed a week's worth of casual clothes, so I had to buy some new stuff," I mumbled.

"It suits you, Art. Lose the iron, and don't stress it if you go a day or two without shining your shoes or shaving. You're a sexy man – she'll love it!"

"What makes you think I'm doing this for a woman?" I asked indignantly, scrunching the legs of my pants in my hands to try and obscure the crease.