In The Right Place

Title: In The Right Place
Time Period: July 30, 135 A.E.
Characters Appearing:

Summary: Malachy comes round Pins & Needles for a little repair.

With summer brings - even here - heat. Air conditioning something of the past, the doors to Pins and Needles is wide open and windows too, with the hopes that whatever breeze there is, will infiltrate and keep things manageable. A faded white brick building with it's stone steps that lead up, windows with words that proclaim it to be a clothier and seamstress shop.

Inside, large shelves hold bolts of fabrics, baskets of colored wool ready to be procured, and off to the side either hanging or folded, ready made utilitarian clothing, for those who don't have the time to wait for something custom made. A low counter, bearing jars of thread, buttons, other manner of knickknacks pertaining to the trade and large leatherbound books of sketches, thing that can be made, or modified.

The proprietess - Not the apprentice - is parked on a stool, doing some handwork on a pair of trousers. Way in the back, the main workroom behind the counter, sits an old singer machine, old even by the time that magic had reared it's head and gave humanity a sound whipping. A paddle footed piece of technology that makes jobs sometimes zip along faster.

Normally Malachy sends his manservant out on tasks like getting clothes mended. But he has townspeople to meet, and Stanz has been sent off to try and find a more permanent place for them to stay. So here he is, a rugged garment bag slung over his shoulder. He's wearing a very neatly cut, very classic suit. A clothier would easily tell that the garment was custom-made of high-quality material. The very fact that he can wear it in the heat without passing out is a testament to its quality.

"Well. I see that I'm in the right place," say Mal as he passes the threshold. It's obvious even within a few words that he's Irish.

"Most people don't accidentally wander into here in the wrong" Sorcha doesn't look up from her work, slender silver needle passing through fabric, drawing thread along behind. "So I would hope, that you are in the right place" Anchoring her needle, the woman dress in black - knee length skirt, black cotton blouse - looks up to her visitor. A critical eye takes in the clothing and she straightens up, meeting Malachy's gaze. "Repairs or new?" The fresh widowed woman slips down from the stool to stand straight, offer her arms out for the garment bag.

"Repairs. Well, one is a repair. The other is an alteration. A fine suit, but it doesn't fit me quite right. Got it in a trade." Malachy swings the garment bag around and hands it out to her. "I tore the shoulders out of the jacket of the silver one. Popped the seams. I'm hoping it can be mended." He meets her gaze. "But if your quality is high, I might consider commissioning a new one."

"If I didn't have high quality, I wouldn't be in business still. And you must not be from here, or you wouldn't think to utter those words" She takes the bag with gentle enough motions, undoing and exposing what lays inside. When he talks of the silver one with it's popped seams, she's looking for it, nodding to the problem. "Most everything, can be mended. Just takes some time. It's easily done and I can probably have that done for you by tomorrow."

Alterations though, she's taking out the other, smoothing the fabric and pursing her lips, judging it and then Malachy to see if it's something to be easy done or beyond hope.

"what will you offer in trade?"

The second suit is a charcoal one, and it looks too big for him in general - a size or so, but not beyond hope. He's not a particularly big man. The suit itself is impeccable - made of material not often seen, with buttons alone worth more than three ordinary suits. "What would you prefer?" says Malachy. One hand rests in his pocket as he takes stock of the shop. "I've thread, dyes and some lengths of fabric. Or if you'd prefer items not of your trade, I've some metals and spices. I also deal in magic trade, though with these kinds of transactions, I tend to stick to monetary exchanges."

"Magic has no place in this shop, nor in trade" It's quickly spoken, looking at Malachy in a different light. "Nor are familiar welcome, for future knowledge. If you've a problem with this, I can give you your suits back and we can be done" As for the fabrics, she's seen plenty, if the back shelf near the counter is any indication. Things that you can't get on the isles of scotland, silk fabrics even. That no normal seamstress should really have. So this fabric isn't uncommon to her

"Fabric in trade, if you have no qualms, is always welcome. Foods, metals too. Repairs like your suit is easy, and you can just go down to the tavern and pay for a drink to be put on my tab, and we call it fair"

There's a slight widening of Malachy's dark eyes as the magic prejudice pops up. But he doesn't say anything. Still, he has a very expressive face and he can't hide the twitch entirely. "A drink to fix the seams is quite fair. And what is the name I should put it under? And what would you like for the alterations of the charcoal?"

"Sorcha Ferrier" She catches the eyes, but makes no comment. Her hands settle on the charcoal suit, turning it this way and that, studying the seams and stitches. "Enough metal to make ten sewing needles, and whatever spices you think worthy of the alterations" Putting the onus on him to decide if her quality is good enough.

"If you end up liking what you see, then we can discuss making a suit. I have patterns in the books there, you can see what I've made, or if you have any idea's as to what you like, you can bring in a sketch" The two suits are slid back into the garment bag and sealed back up. "Don't worry. I'm not charging you more because you're a mage than anyone else. If you're wondering. It's what I charge everyone. Just don't bring your familiar in, and you're fine"

"Malachy Lynch," he offers in return. He studies her for a moment, but decides not to comment on the matter of familiars. It's a rather telling avoidance, though. "I'd like something in a lighter fabric for the warmer weather. Something with some give through the shoulders for riding, but still cut in a flattering way. I'm also looking to source waistcoats and cotton shirts, for days when a jacket becomes completely impractical."

"How about you see if you like my alterations, and then move from there. I have a mostly full plate, but I can likely squeeze in some more" What with Mariah helping and learning more and more each day, it means more work can be taken on. "There's some shirts there, hanging and some on the shelf. Nothing fancy, but if you like to look at them. Cost is three drinks a piece at the bar on my name" A gesture to an adjacent shelf where all the ready made items are. "Anything else Mr. Malachy?"

"If I do like your work, Miss Ferrier, I can guarantee my payment will be worth your while." Malachy moves to look at the shirts, but he only browses in a cursory fashion. "You must keep yourself in drink for a good long while if you take payment in them." His smile is a little wry. Then he nods towards the garment bag. "Should we set an appointment for the alterations?"

"I don't drink it all myself. But it's nice to know that when I want to go and have a night, that I don't need to worry" The brunette responds, whisking the garment bag away to hang it up on a polished wooden coatrack behind her with a few other items waiting repair. "No need, I'll take your measurements now. Give me.. three days and they'll be done" From under the counter, she grabs a knotted roped, motioning for him to come over and stand. "Arms up and out"

Malachy undoes the button at the front of his jacket and then shrugs it off. He holds it gently by the collar and looks around for a place to hang it for a moment. He then steps up onto the platform. He's a slight man who is shorter than average, but during the course of her measurements, she'll discover he's not a weak one. The muscle he has is very lean and compact. "Were you born here, Miss Ferrier?" Small-talk. Or perhaps genuine interest.

"As was my mother, and her mother, and her mother before that. A long line of those who lived in Dornie. This shop has been here since before everything" The jacket is taken, hung on the back of a chair to protect from creases and sets about quick as a wink, to measuring. Calculations running through her head. "Born here, will die here. You however, are not from here"

"Oh, what gave me away?" Malachy's smile is amused and just a little bit sharky. He cooperates in the way of a man who has been fitted for many suits. "Just arrived two days ago, as a matter of fact."

"Well, here is to hoping that if you stay, you find yourself on the good side of things" QUickly, she is done, stepping back and gesturing for Malachy to take back his jacket. "Come tomorrow for your one suit. Give me three days for your other. I'll trust that you will have put the drink on my tab, and if you haven't…" Well, she does have his other suit.

'Anything else?"

"When I make a deal, I stick to the terms of it. There's no worry of that." Malachy takes his jacket back and re-fastens it with quick and neat motions. "No, that's all. Thank you, Miss Ferrier. Should we do buisness beyond this, my associate, his name is Stanz, has my permission to pick up garments. He may also deliver payment."

"Fair and fine enough" Over to the counter and the book, scribbling in it - a not very proper spelling of his name - all the measurements that she needs. "Back to work for me then, and back out into the town for you. I hope you have a good day Mr. Malachy" She does have a business to run after all and she's expecting mariah back soon enough. "If you have any questions, send him in"

"It's Mr. Lynch, or just Malachy if you'd rather," says the be-suited man. Then he nods once to her, and heads for the open door. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." And then he's out and onto the street.