Waters of Lethe, Book 2

30. Dress Up

We finally got Scott to agree to our list of team members after throwing up scenario after scenario of how six people could and would work.

What if we needed to send Piper to scout out younger kids?

What if there are more bad guys there than we thought there'd be? Four extra eyes, four extra fists, two more bodies to throw at people.

In the end, it made sense. Somewhat.

When it was settled, Scott arranged for us to be fitted with clothes that normal people wore to a normal international banquet.

Which I did not like.

We were driven to an upscale clothing shop in Toronto, where we met with designers, per Scott's request, to fit us with dresses and suits that would aid in easy movements, outfits that would easily hide the several weapons that we'd each be toting around. Apparently Scott knew the people and had worked with them before, because they only laughed when he told them the requirements for the outfits.

"They gotta be flexible, Alphonse. Flexible and fashionable. Flexibly fashionable," Scott told one of the designers as he led all of us back to a large area with mirrors and fitting rooms.

Alphonse laughed at Scott's requirements.

"But, no, really," Scott said with a straight face. "I want them to be able to hide ten pistols and a bazooka under their shirts. I'm counting on you, Phonse," Scott said as he pointed a finger at the man with a smile. The smile was friendly, but there was another message plastered underneath it. I didn't know if Alphonse could see it or not, because he simply smiled and waved his hand in the air. I could see the message, however. If their clothes aren't up to my standards...

I tried to suppress the rising feeling of panic in my chest as I took a seat, watching the designers as they got to work.

It took an annoyingly long time. For starters, the designers only spoke French. Out of all of us, only Alex and Natali spoke the language. While Alex was fitted for a tux, he held three different conversations with the workers as they measured him and brought different button up shirts and slacks for him to try.

I listened to how Alex spoke, how the French words sounded lovely coming out of his mouth, while I watched Natali.

She wasn't too happy to be coming with us because, surprise, surprise, Alex wasn't that fun to work with during missions. When she told me this in private, I was confused at how nearly everyone thought the same thing about him. I didn't find him to be as terrible as they all made him out to be. He was more annoying when he was around Deebo than anything else. The two joked about everything.

I saw, now, why Natali tolerated this mission: she absolutely loved getting to dress up. She loved the attention, loved the way she looked in each of the dresses that she got to try on, loved how the designers praised her tall frame, her long extremities. She spoke a few words to them, but, for the most part, tried hiding the pleased look on her face that she let slip a couple of times.

I noticed that she liked to seem solemn, almost angry most of the time, though I didn't understand why. Maybe to gain some kind of respect from the others.

When it came to Deebo, he was among the first three to volunteer to get fitted. He told us something about how he wanted to look like a gangster and couldn't wait for us to see how fresh he'd look.

"....gangster, a straight up G! Y'all won't know what hit ya when you see me in a tux. I'll have all the honeys swoonin'." As funny as I found him, I learned to tune Deebo out.