Shopping Spree

[Amorru Reyes]

Meanwhile, back at A Cut Above...

Bertrand spent his youth on Londinium obsessed with fashion. Every weekend between his lessons focused on pouring through the latest styles making their way across his favorite Cortex 'zines, shunning his parents' advice that he pursue at least some sort of social life. A waste of his time, young Bertrand considered, and instead spent his formative years collecting spools of fabric and learning how to repair an antique sewing machine. Before long, the young couturier manufactured his own clothing and developed an air of superiority in style and taste that escaped him when it came to athletic pursuits.

Apprenticing first for one of the most in demand dressmakers on his home planet, stitching high end garments for the progeny of Alliance military officers and civil magistrates, Bertrand's journey towards his goal eventually led him off planet. Pleased to finally be on his own, sheers sharpened and fingertips calloused, the youthful fashionista became well known for dressing heavenly bodies of the Verse from Sihnon to Osiris. However on Pelorum Bertrand found himself in a spot of controversy and as the scandal spread across the Cortex he quietly exited the limelight and found himself, like so much of the riff-raff upon which he often looked down his slender nose, attempting to make his life again on Newhall.

Coming to the understanding that a proper storefront would serve him far better than his spoiled reputation, Bertrand established A Cut Above in an attempt to begrudgingly appeal to a greater swath of the masses. Often times he found his clientele consisting of members of the quickly rising merchant class on the planet, finding no amount of rose oil seemed to cover the stench of new money within his hallowed halls. They disgusted him, of course, these upstarted, trumped up children of tasteless oafs who spent their days farming water for the Alliance's seemingly restless terraforming projects.

Bertrand found their attitudes deplorable, each of them demanding servitude with an air of arrogance and entitlement worn far better by those bearing at the very least the significance and history of an established and recognizable surname. And yet they all paled in comparison to the young man currently weaving the latest tapestry in a tale of self import and redundant grandstanding, the full extent of his pontifical philosophy displayed in his very posture as Bertrand measured his outstretched arm.

"...Figure I just go from mindin' my own on Greenleaf, when of a mornin' I get a wave right? And here's some fella - calls himself a Cap'n right? - tells me he's heard tell of Amorru Reyes all across the known 'Verse. Why shore, figure he might. Drab fella though, wears a lot of brown." The pompous man, whose practiced movements betrayed a familiarity with the process of collecting measurements piqued Bertrand's suspicions, shivered visibly as if the very thought of this other man's apparel filled him with discomfort. "But boring as he looks he says the job's excitin', and I figure I can use some more of that, and he'll pay me my worth, and I can always do with more of that too, and before he reduces himself to beggin' me for my time I start to feel sorry for him 'n' all so I figure why not. So I get myself ferried to the station to meet the Cap'n and all his crew, including those lovely birds back there in your parlor. Oh, and Grace. It's a misnomer, I assure you. She dances like a cow on ice, if you know what I mean."

The tailor smirked in self satisfaction, taking mental note of the fact that this self-proclaimed "reflection of perfection" - making exception for the ruin of his nose - carried a left arm a quarter of an inch shorter than the right. While the supposed pilot's tale interested him little, Bertrand admitted rightly to himself that the amount of wealth projected by the appearance of the dark-haired lady in the gown - surely this loudmouthed dandy's madame or a sponsor of some sort - urged him to endure the verbal downpour with grit teeth and a well-practiced smile.

"Yeah, figures you follow. Seem like a smart fella. Ha. Seam." Amorru glanced down at Bertrand, likely for some hint of approval, but continued along after finding little. "Heh. Lively crowd, sure... Anyhow, everything's goin' fine and I'm gettin' along with the crew right as rain when all of a sudden the Cap'n's ol' lady decides to take issue with my haircut and takes the butt of her pistol and smashes my face! Not very lady like, eh? I certainly didn't think so. Still, figure the doctor's talents always lied more in her hands than in her feet. Not a bad job, ya ask me. Still, if I didn't know any better I'd say she's still mad at me..."

"Sir." Bertrand started, cutting the dandy off as he returned to the room unnoticed. "I do hate to interrupt, however I must inquire about the current whereabouts of the lady... Charity, you said? This is quite an order you've made, and I assume she carries the majority of your, erm, entourage's wealth?"

Amorru turned, a snide look on his face as if Bertrand loudly passed gas, and beheld the tailor in undeniable contempt. Stepping off the stool upon which he beheld his own reflection for the past several minutes and becoming just a couple of inches shorter than Bertrand, Amorru held a hard stare before softening comically. "Figure ya got me there, mate!" Amorru stepped through the hanging scarlet curtains as Bertrand rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Well, where ya figure the Dutchess run off to then? Hmm?" Amorru's head popped back through the curtain, likely ignoring the reply from his remaining two companions. "By the by, gov! What ya got by way of a pair of new boots?"

[RUNE]

After Charity failed to return to the shop, a restless and weary Amorru Reyes inquired regarding the time and reserved himself to paying for the group's order so they might recover the Dutchess and make their way back to Wushu. Paying out of his own funds with a sour expression on his face, Wushu's pilot ponied up the platinum marks and made his way out of the storefront with both arms full of plastic-sealed garments and paper bags of foodstuffs. As they exited to the street, an explosion filled the air above.

*KRA-KOOM!!!*

As debris from the mezzanine above spilled onto the streets below, shoppers began to stampede in a panic as they rushed for cover. Shattered splinters, fine particles, and glass shards rained down from above, prompting Amorru to make the unexpected move of dropping the acquired items and attempting to cover Grace with his own body. Questioning his own actions, Amorru stood and dusted himself off before looking around to locate Artemis and Charity and calling for them over the rising din of shouting, emergency sirens, and the distant roars of four more explosions throughout the city.

Across the way from A Cut Above, a lesser amount of debris showered over Charity and King's location. With chaos taking the masses and the sense of danger overtaking them, the pair had a choice to make: attempt to wade through the stampeding shoppers and regroup with Amorru, Artemis, and Grace, or take the mostly clear corridor leading away from the bazaar and find their own way to general safety.

Askhar, Amorru, Artemis, Charity, and Grace exit to
Repossession Mambo: NEWHALL