Worsties Overflow Parking for Hortusanguis

[forrestertailor]

"There's lots of ways to do that." Luka thinks back to a suit of armor he once saw in the enemy line. In modern eyes it was a round, clownish helmet with bulbous staring eyes and a grate for the mouth set in a foolish grin. Closed in glass and cleaned for museum goers it looks silly today. But at the time, blood spattered and running full tilt towards him, it certainly struck fear into even his undead heart. "I can think of a few. If you like you can look even more like Bozo the Clown."

He pokes at Crowley's red hair as he quips.

Comments

[hortusanguis]

“Pinstripe?” Crowley raises a brow at him. “Are we going back to the 1940s?”

[forrestertailor]

“Yes,” Luka says unequivocally. “Hat, coat, gun and all. The stripes will give people something to look at besides your scrawny arms made narrower in black.”

[hortusanguis]

Crowley scoffs. "Been there and done that. If I wanted that sort of thing, I'd just look in the back of my closet." Not that those clothes exist anymore, as outfits tend to disappear as soon as Crowley changes things around.

[forrestertailor]

Luka lets out a disgruntled snort that Crowley is well familiar with.

“Alright, smart guy. Then tell me what you want. Is it spikes, shoulder pads and latex? A Glam Rock demon from the future? Should I make you a sword you can go swinging around, dip it in gasoline and show your librarian that you have a flaming sword too?”

As he speaks Luka can’t keep an excited edge out of his voice. Even when haranguing Crowley he can’t help his joy at the prospects of a new and elaborate outfit.

[hortusanguis]

“ Book trader.” Crowley casually corrects.

“Isn’t it your own bloody job to come up with it? If you can’t come up with anything new, then just say so.” That is absolutely a challenge.

[forrestertailor]

Luka curses in a language Crowley hasn't heard in eons, but he's sure he was just call the dirty end of some animal. Luka gives the back of his head a smack, enough to knock Crowley's chin into his collarbone but not enough to rattle anything out of place.

"Get out of my store and leave your checkbook." Luka tells him, before looping a measuring tape around Crowley's neck. "Not yet. Need to measure just how little of you there really is."

The measuring is a brisk process. Crowley doesn't see Luka write anything down but he does seem markedly more focused and professional than the demon has ever seen him.

[hortusanguis]

Crowley doesn't even have time to snap over being smacked, and he seems amused enough over getting under the vampire's skin that he lets it go. It's a dangerous game, striking a demon. Even for vampires.

Still, he might get a new outfit out of this, and depending on big Luka's ego is, it may well be worth a damn.

So Crowley stands, moves as necessary, lets Luka go about his work.

"I'll pay for it when I see it."