Roulette of Recognition IC

[Deme]

"It's no harm done. These aren't made of wet sand and hope, you know."

She said, waving a hand. She considered, briefly, admitting that, when it was hard and lonely -- especially in those first years -- she'd come in here and just... try and reach something. Touch the pictures. Try to get a sense of warmth from the clothes. If the place was to be undisturbed...It's so that the memories held there could be kept safe, and nothing more.

"Moving on."

[Lycan 01]

Victoria doesn't blush as she stands there in his skivvies. It seems the petitie maid favors black for her brazier and panties... the latter of which seems to sport a cute skull image or two. Odd.

She offers no opposition as he slips the dress onto her, keeping her fidgeting to a minimum, both to be professional and to avoid needle jabs. As he sews her in and asks how it fits, she looks down and runs her hands along her sides, hips, and... chest.

Or lack thereof.

She pats the loose fabric over his bossom a few times, before her head droops and her shoulders slump. "It's a bit loose in the front, sir..." she quietly observes. "Though that isn't a design flaw, necessarily. Just... something to bear in mind?" she mutters, unable to stop herself from fidgeting a bit. Stupid Fate, making her flat-chested. Skeletons had better cleavage than her.

Seriously. She'd studied them extensively.

[Trobby]

Connie doesn't shy away at observing the fellow maid, and every last detail she exposes.

"A bit of stuffing could fix that, or a pin in the front." Connie idly muses. A part of her is relieved she didn't have to slip into the dress.

"So..Cecil, is this dress going to be part of your debut?"

[Benson]

"It's no harm done. These aren't made of wet sand and hope, you know."

She said, waving a hand. She considered, briefly, admitting that, when it was hard and lonely -- especially in those first years -- she'd come in here and just... try and reach something. Touch the pictures. Try to get a sense of warmth from the clothes. If the place was to be undisturbed...It's so that the memories held there could be kept safe, and nothing more.

"Moving on."

"Of course yes, right, please," Alex sported an embarassed flush and dared not look at the intimidating Cat. She kept her eyes on Claire and awaited the next move.

[TheAmishPirate]

Crapisicles. Pen jotting. Probably about how such an unfit maid she was. Al's imagination went wild with the worst possible comments it could be.

"Right..yea......." Man, Cat was scary...and probably took her job way too seriously, or intensely...something. The silly maid stepped aside and gulped.

"It's no harm done. These aren't made of wet sand and hope, you know."

She said, waving a hand. She considered, briefly, admitting that, when it was hard and lonely -- especially in those first years -- she'd come in here and just... try and reach something. Touch the pictures. Try to get a sense of warmth from the clothes. If the place was to be undisturbed...It's so that the memories held there could be kept safe, and nothing more.

"Moving on."

No. Not yet. The orders clearly stated that the room was to be undisturbed. The clumsy maid had disturbed the picture by approximately .75425 inches. Their job was incomplete.

Catherine turned the weight of her disapproving gaze on the picture frame. She saw not the loving parents, not the face of an old friend, not a happy memory so carefully preserved. The pictures contents, after all, were meaningless. It was an object disturbed, and she would un-disturb it. Nothing less. Nothing more.

Prepare yourself, picture. Mercy is not within task parameters.

[Making a Skill roll to fix the picture just right: (1d6X2)[12]]

[Deme]

Victoria doesn't blush as she stands there in his skivvies. It seems the petitie maid favors black for her brazier and panties... the latter of which seems to sport a cute skull image or two. Odd.

She offers no opposition as he slips the dress onto her, keeping her fidgeting to a minimum, both to be professional and to avoid needle jabs. As he sews her in and asks how it fits, she looks down and runs her hands along her sides, hips, and... chest.

Or lack thereof.

She pats the loose fabric over his bossom a few times, before her head droops and her shoulders slump. "It's a bit loose in the front, sir..." she quietly observes. "Though that isn't a design flaw, necessarily. Just... something to bear in mind?" she mutters, unable to stop herself from fidgeting a bit. Stupid Fate, making her flat-chested. Skeletons had better cleavage than her.

Seriously. She'd studied them extensively.

Cecil blushed, and hurried -- well, in this case, because he wasn't entirely confident with how close she wanted him to be to her chest, he hurried to the side. He lifted her arm a bit.

"Oh, don't worry about that -- since that's, um, a delicate area to fit, I mostly kept it loose until I had a model. It's easier to take in than let out..."

He muttered, uneasily, as his needle darted in and out of the side of the dress, pulling closer a seam just under her arm, which began to tighten the dress's chest.

"Really, though, you shouldn't be shy about it; most of the time, a designer doesn't expect a curvy model. Except for underwear or swimsuits."

To Connie's comment, he nodded.

"Yes. It's the last piece -- the showstopper. I, well... I wanted to do a tribute to my parents. My father made dresses like these, sometimes."


---

That picture is hung so level, man. You have not seen a more level picture.

"Anyway, on this floor we also have my bedroom and Master Cecil's -- which should be made and tidied, but unless it's obviously trash, not thrown away from."

She opened a door to a rather sparse-looking room, in neutral colors, which was clearly hers. The bed was already made, of course. It had a bookshelf, a desk, a closet, and a chair at said desk. It also had a nice little vanity, for looking tidy.

"All the rooms up here have on-suite bathrooms. Master Cecil's is at the end of the hall, but..."

She narrowed her eyes.

"We should probably check on when the last time he used it was."

[Trobby]

His father...

The young maid's eyes glazed over slightly, focused on on the world around her but a world within. A world of memories...

Memories of color, of proud pictures painted lavishly, of doting fathers, of long, boring lectures, and disapproving fathers.

Of tattered canvasses...

[Lycan 01]

"Oh, do you design underwear and swimsuits, too?" Victoria asks innocuously, with a curious little head tilt. She doesn't seem bothered by Cecil's proximity to her chest, and offers no opposition to him lifting her arm or otherwise moving around. "Are you needing models for those?"

[Deme]

Her lack of shyness was his own cue to calm down a bit, and his tone and movements became relaxed: once context was firmly established, his nerves vanished. He adjusted the fabric and made a few stitches until it fit more evenly against her chest.

"Oh, me? No, it's not something I've really done... But the company supports a few brands for both of them, and it's something you notice in the industry as a whole."

He stepped back and nodded appraisingly; for all the world -- well, barring the fact that nothing else about her is prepared for it -- like a lovely bride.

"Have you been working with us -- or, well, in the industry in general -- very long?"

[TheAmishPirate]

That picture is hung so level, man. You have not seen a more level picture.

"Anyway, on this floor we also have my bedroom and Master Cecil's -- which should be made and tidied, but unless it's obviously trash, not thrown away from."

She opened a door to a rather sparse-looking room, in neutral colors, which was clearly hers. The bed was already made, of course. It had a bookshelf, a desk, a closet, and a chair at said desk. It also had a nice little vanity, for looking tidy.

"All the rooms up here have on-suite bathrooms. Master Cecil's is at the end of the hall, but..."

She narrowed her eyes.

"We should probably check on when the last time he used it was."

Cat, satisfied with her work, followed along on the tour. Thankfully, the upper levels appeared to have less rooms than the lower levels. Easier to keep track of direction that way.

"Ms. Claire." She spoke up before they reached Cecil's room. "Is the maintenance of Master Cecil's well-being among the requirements of our position?"

[Deme]

She opened the door: Cecil's room was pretty tidy, actually; it had a bed, a bookshelf, a desk, a closet and a dresser, a lamp... It was a pretty ordinary-looking room, for a swank house, done in greens not dissimilar to the color of his hair and sort of warm creamy colors. It looked like no one had been in it for a while -- the bed was made, clothes in the hamper, notebooks and sketchbooks stacked tidily on the desk...

Claire clicked her tongue, somehow dissatistified.

"He has not been getting to bed. And yes, yes, it's your job, it's my job, it's the dog's job. This is his house, and his company -- soon enough -- and you work in maintanence of it and of him."

She glared at the room, her voice rising a tick in frustration, clearly leaving unsaid -- 'and he's making it so difficult.'

[TheAmishPirate]

She opened the door: Cecil's room was pretty tidy, actually; it had a bed, a bookshelf, a desk, a closet and a dresser, a lamp... It was a pretty ordinary-looking room, for a swank house, done in greens not dissimilar to the color of his hair and sort of warm creamy colors. It looked like no one had been in it for a while -- the bed was made, clothes in the hamper, notebooks and sketchbooks stacked tidily on the desk...

Claire clicked her tongue, somehow dissatistified.

"He has not been getting to bed. And yes, yes, it's your job, it's my job, it's the dog's job. This is his house, and his company -- soon enough -- and you work in maintanence of it and of him."

She glared at the room, her voice rising a tick in frustration, clearly leaving unsaid -- 'and he's making it so difficult.'

Something hardened in Cat's eyes, and she gave a shallow bow. "Required: Daily schedule. Emphasis: Morning and evening appointments. Master Cecil will receive adequate rest and nourishment." she swore, like a loyal samurai before their daiymo.

[Deme]

"Thank you. Though I should add... It's important that this collection gets done on time."

She accepted the bow with a nod.

"He changed some of it just recently; much too close to showtime...He really does take after..."

Claire muttered, her expression briefly concerned -- if exasperated. She cleared her throat, regaining her posture.

"Alright, then. That's it for living spaces, outside of your own... There's one other major concern, but before I do... How do you feel about dogs?"

[TheAmishPirate]

"Thank you. Though I should add... It's important that this collection gets done on time."

She accepted the bow with a nod.

"He changed some of it just recently; much too close to showtime...He really does take after..."

"Affirmative. Adding parameters: The collection will be complete, and Master Cecil will be healthy."

Claire muttered, her expression briefly concerned -- if exasperated. She cleared her throat, regaining her posture.

"Alright, then. That's it for living spaces, outside of your own... There's one other major concern, but before I do... How do you feel about dogs?"

Cat's eyes flashed, and she stiffened even more than usual. "Dogs...are wild, loud, without any sense of propriety and decorum, and possess an unhealthy obsession with their own useless tails."

"...why do you ask this?" she asked guardedly.

[Deme]

"I meant, for example, a phobia or difficulty."

Normally, Claire screened people about this, but everything about the hiring of these maids had been irregular.

"If, say, an old sheepdog were to run at you covered in mud and slobber all over you..." She did not look comfortable with this description of events herself.

[Trobby]

Her lack of shyness was his own cue to calm down a bit, and his tone and movements became relaxed: once context was firmly established, his nerves vanished. He adjusted the fabric and made a few stitches until it fit more evenly against her chest.

"Oh, me? No, it's not something I've really done... But the company supports a few brands for both of them, and it's something you notice in the industry as a whole."

He stepped back and nodded appraisingly; for all the world -- well, barring the fact that nothing else about her is prepared for it -- like a lovely bride.

"Have you been working with us -- or, well, in the industry in general -- very long?"

The question brought Connie slightly out of her flash of memories.

"Well, I was told that I was selected for my qualifications as a temp employee, so I assume the same is true for all of us." She says to Cecil. "We're all temps, though I guess we do have that one thing in common.

All of us were at the same show."

[Deme]

When she said this, he beamed at her, his eyes bright and shining.

"You did? Oh, what a relief." A relieved sigh escaped him, his shoulders relaxing a notch, his gaze dipping. "I've never tried anything like this, so I thought I wasn't really sure I could get the right people...I, um, was working backstage that night.
It was a favor."

He amended that part to the end in something of a hurry.

[Trobby]

On that, Connie perked up. In fact, her uniform perked up as welll, as her tail raised in excitement, but more noticeable even than that was her expression, starting first with a sudden shock of surprise, then slowly, smoothly, comfortably slipping into a big, self-satisfied grin.

"So...what you're saying, essentially, is that you hand-picked us specifically, that you in some small way...'like' us."

The way she smiled as she said this, and the way she slid her hips back and forth as she closed the space between them, made the message quite clear: not just a 'like', but a "like" like.

[Lycan 01]

Her lack of shyness was his own cue to calm down a bit, and his tone and movements became relaxed: once context was firmly established, his nerves vanished. He adjusted the fabric and made a few stitches until it fit more evenly against her chest.

"Oh, me? No, it's not something I've really done... But the company supports a few brands for both of them, and it's something you notice in the industry as a whole."

He stepped back and nodded appraisingly; for all the world -- well, barring the fact that nothing else about her is prepared for it -- like a lovely bride.

"Have you been working with us -- or, well, in the industry in general -- very long?"

The question brought Connie slightly out of her flash of memories.

"Well, I was told that I was selected for my qualifications as a temp employee, so I assume the same is true for all of us." She says to Cecil. "We're all temps, though I guess we do have that one thing in common.

All of us were at the same show."

When she said this, he beamed at her, his eyes bright and shining.

"You did? Oh, what a relief." A relieved sigh escaped him, his shoulders relaxing a notch, his gaze dipping. "I've never tried anything like this, so I thought I wasn't really sure I could get the right people...I, um, was working backstage that night.
It was a favor."

He amended that part to the end in something of a hurry.

On that, Connie perked up. In fact, her uniform perked up as welll, as her tail raised in excitement, but more noticeable even than that was her expression, starting first with a sudden shock of surprise, then slowly, smoothly, comfortably slipping into a big, self-satisfied grin.

"So...what you're saying, essentially, is that you hand-picked us specifically, that you in some small way...'like' us."

The way she smiled as she said this, and the way she slid her hips back and forth as she closed the space between them, made the message quite clear: not just a 'like', but a "like" like.

"Hm? What? Industry?" Victoria blinked, having zoned out a bit while trying to come up with an appropriate response. "Ah, yes, I'm afraid I'm still rather new at this. My previous lines of work did not quite pan out, so for the time being, I'm trying my hand at other things. But hey, if it pays the bills?" she says with a shrug and a meek smile. "I'm fine with sticking with it."

She'd rather be digging up graves or making unspeakable amalgams of flesh and bone and live electricity, but eh, that doesn't pay the bills, generally. Only adds to them.

[Deme]

"Well, that's good," he said to Victoria, not at first noticing the approach. "What did you do before --"

This was halted in its tracks by that bombshell of a statement, his eyes losing focus on the matter at hand, and onto the swing of Connie's hips. He blanched. He flushed. His wrang his hands, deft habit and some awareness causing him to miss the needle.
For a second, he sputtered, his nerves aflutter in the wind.

"Well, I mean, I wouldn't put it exactly -- it's a little complicated -- I was sort of picking randomly, but -- I mean, I was very impressed, and..."

And he paused, and looked at the dress as Victoria was wearing it. Something seemed to overcome him. He nodded fiercely, his eyes shining with an earnest zeal. He clutched one of Victoria's hands, and made a sudden grab at Connie's, and held one hand in each fist. He grinned like a dope.

"Oh, have either of you ever been in love?"

[Lycan 01]

Well that escalated quickly.

Victoria blinks a few times in confusion, both from having her hand held, and from the sudden personal inquiry. "Bwuh?" he blurbles back, momentarily bewildered. She then gives an aloof shrug. "Er, no, I am afraid. I have never really had much time or opportunity for romance. Do not get me wrong, I have thought about it before. But I always felt that the work required to find someone who suited me would be... quite the endeavor."

There would be so much graverobbing involved. Then she'd have to find the right brain bits to make a matching personality. Not to mention all the tools and supplies needed to put him together. Ugh, so not worth it for just a pet project...

[TheAmishPirate]

"I meant, for example, a phobia or difficulty."

Normally, Claire screened people about this, but everything about the hiring of these maids had been irregular.

"If, say, an old sheepdog were to run at you covered in mud and slobber all over you..." She did not look comfortable with this description of events herself.

"...then it would deeply and immediately regret its mistake." Cat replied with a voice of iron.

[Trobby]

The sudden motion of grabbing her hand out from mid-air, especially when it was already on a collision course with prodding the center of Cecil's chest, threw Connie off her balance for a moment.

But the question he had asked of her threw her off for more than just that.

She had to seriously think about the implications of the question - a question she was not at all prepared for and, in her long, long life, a question she'd never been asked.

Not even by herself.

"Well...I...mean that's quite a question to ask a lady, Cecil." She says, diverting it rather than answering it. "Have you?"

[Deme]

"Duly noted. I will mark this as an unperformable duty in your files."

She didn't say it as a threat, but hey -- Cat were threatening the boss' dog. The reply then likely sounded somewhat threatening.

"I'd advised caution going into the back yard. And you?"

She turned to the other maid, who'd been quiet for much of this leg of the tour.

---

Cecil had already sort of taken a flying leap off of his nerves, so the best he could do was nod along at, well, mostly Victoria's comment, though conveniently he could answer Connie's question.

"I'm about the same way; I've thought about it, but it seemed like something that was always for somebody else. Someone who could deal with people better, for one thing."

He chuckled a little uneasily, but his expression perked back up right after. He was a little giddy, frankly, and rocked on the balls of his feet. His face flushed...But rather than release their hands, he clutched them a bit closer.

"But during the show... I saw something so... beautiful. Like an angel, maybe. My heart's pounding just thinking about, and whenever I do... I just feel like there's still so much left to make."

He let go of Connie's hand to gesture at his designs, which frankly looked pretty good; looking at some of the colors, you could maybe see a bit of that giddiness, that bright spring rush. There were just little things that seemed to have a tiny bit of extra care in them.

"I guess I'm saying... I might have fallen in love just a little."

Just a little, Cecil? Blushing, he let go of their hands apologetically. Compared to how nervous he normally seemed, the change in energy seems to have washed over him like a wave and left him gleaming.

[Trobby]

It was extremely suprising to see Cecil burst with such excitement and passion.

Connie, naturally, decided to encourage it.

"My my, feelings for one of the designers maybe? Or have you fallen for one of your own models?" She asked coyly, curling her chestnut hair around in her finger and placing the other hand on her chest. "How scandalous, how uncouth..." She said, gesticulating with one hand, then the other, before grinning like a wolf at the young man.

"How romantic, do tell us more. Who is the lucky person?" She asked, leaning in with keen interest.

[Deme]

"For Ronaldo? Me?"

This somehow caused him to blush more, but with a bit of a real laugh. It was better than thinking about the actual answer.

"I know the old stereotype, but I don't think he's interested in men. Or women. Or things that aren't art."

He shook off the idea of what dating his only friend would be like. There'd probably be a lot of flash. When Avant-garde dating that would crush the societal order of human affection had faded from his head as an image, though, he was left with only the truth. The simple fact. The enthusiasm died.

"But as for who, um... Well..." For a long time he was very quiet, his shoulders raised and his head down, looking like he was trying to escape into his blazer. He was a failure at love. "You two know...about me, right? My, um, condition?...Well, that's how it is, so... I... um... Don't know."

[Trobby]

There was a lingering question in the air. Connie after all hadn't been with the organization for long, and she'd essentially just met this man today - if she'd met him before, she surely did not remember, though now that she knew him a bit, she wished she had - but that aside, there was one thing he had mentioned that buzzed inside her head that she absolutely, positively could not hold onto for another second.

"Who's Ronaldo?" She asked cluelessly. "Oh, nevermind...it was a very busy night after all. You might not've recognized them unless they had-"

Ah, a thought crossed her mind. Carefully, but without much thought as to who was watching, she undid the front of her apron, and rolled her blouse up to just beneath her chest.

Then, from beneath the blouse, she allowed her set of characteristic batlike wings to sprout forth, fluttering in the air as they escaped before settling into a resting position.

"Did they have wings like these?" She asked, letting Cecil get a good look at them. She would have to later, she thought to herself, add something in the back to let them out more easily, but for now, this would do.

[Lycan 01]

"Beautiful like an angel? No, that would not be me," Victoria replies with a lofty giggle. "I'm afraid you... wait, what? Condition?" She raises an eyebrow curiously. Hadn't she heard about this? Claire had said something about it, right? She was kinda hazy on the details. And asking would be a bad idea. Quick, distraction! "Uh, well-"

Oh hey bat wings.

The girl next to her has bat wings.

Neat.

Victoria blinks a few times, before pointing a finger at Connie. "Uh, those aren't angel wings?" How very astute, Victoria...

[Trobby]

"Very astute of you, Vicky." Connie replied with a mild pout, crossing her arms...and did her blouse slither a bit there? Huh... "It was quite a hectic night though, so perhaps Cecil was just a bit mistaken...but yes, they are not bat wings, and I have them."

She then turned back to Cecil, aware of her evocative state of dress, and grinned at him flirtatiously

"Well, Cecil? Am I your mystery angel?"

[Benson]

"Duly noted. I will mark this as an unperformable duty in your files."

She didn't say it as a threat, but hey -- Cat were threatening the boss' dog. The reply then likely sounded somewhat threatening.

"I'd advised caution going into the back yard. And you?"

She turned to the other maid, who'd been quiet for much of this leg of the tour.

"Huh...wha?" She had kinda spaced out for a moment, her thoughts elsewhere. "The dog thing?...Well I am pretty sure I would yelp and then yelp out when the inevitable happens and I get dog-mudded and end up dry sobbing?" She awkwardly smiled and chuckled and then just kinda stared at the ground.