Page 42 of Office of the Lost
“Leo?If you liked the position, why did you hold it only briefly?”
“Same reason as always.Things blew up.Um, not literally, in that case.”Leopold frowned at the memory.“I was working near the quarter slots when suddenly all hell broke loose—everyone who was playing won a jackpot, all at once.And that continued for a good ten minutes until security came and cleared the area out.The bosses figured it was some kind of weird technical glitch.But then the same thing happened the next day when I was nearby, and then again the day after that.So they fired me.”
Actually, first they’d dragged him into an office in which some extremely scary men interrogated him about how he was fixing the machines.Leopold, frightened half to death, had insisted that he had nothing to do with it.They’d held him for a while longer, but when the security cameras showed him doing nothing more sinister than sweeping, they had to let him go.Not without threats, however, and a clear warning to never return to that casino or, for that matter, anywhere else in the city.
“That’s not fair,” said Crispin.
“In retrospect, maybe it was.Now I know I probably was messing things up somehow.”
“Injecting chaos into probabilities.”
That made sense, Leopold thought as they got off the escalator and strode down a long, wide corridor lined with shops selling clothing and jewelry, most of which wouldn’t work well on human bodies.However, he did spy a suit that might fit him perfectly but would undoubtedly be out of his budget, even if he had whatever currency this place used.
“What?”asked Crispin when Leopold lagged in front of the display window.
“I’m a jeans-and-tee kinda guy.But I always wondered what it would be like to afford nice duds.Not that I’d have anyplace to wear them.”
Crispin looked thoughtful.“Well, meeting royalty would be an appropriate occasion to dress up.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll remember that if I ever have lunch with a king.”
“Leo, you’re about to be presented to the Queen of the High Holy Fae.”
Oh.Leopold had forgotten who Crispin’s mom was.He looked down at his clothes, which weren’t exactly fresh at this point in the adventure.“She’s just gonna have to deal with me like this.”
“Maybe not.Come on.”With an odd little smile, Crispin dragged him into the shop.
The salesclerk looked more or less like a very handsome human, only with slightly iridescent bluish skin, deep green hair, and no nose.He glided over immediately.“Can I help you beings?”As he spoke, Leopold noticed what looked like several rows of tiny sharp teeth.
“That suit in the window, for my friend here,” said Crispin.
The clerk grinned a sharp smile.“Excellent.Just a moment, please.”He hurried away and disappeared behind a door.
“I can’t afford that,” protested Leopold in a stage whisper.
“Not a problem.I’ll put it on my mother’s account.”
“But I?—”
“She has more money than she knows what to do with, and I feel as if you’re partially her responsibility.She can pay.”
Before Leopold could protest, the clerk was back.“Follow me to the fitting room, please.”
They entered a large room, and both the clerk and Crispin seemed to think it was appropriate to stand there and watch as Leopold tried on the outfit.Well, whatever.Pretending to be blasé, he stripped to his underwear and then donned a black silk shirt and wool trousers and jacket.From a distance, the suit looked dark brown, but up close it had a subtle leopard-spot pattern.Everything fit him perfectly, as if it had been tailored for him.Fae magic, probably.
“I bet I look dumb,” said Leopold, suddenly self-conscious.
But his audience shook their heads firmly.“You look wonderful,” said Crispin.
“Delicious,” agreed the clerk.
When Leopold finally braved the mirrors he saw… a man with messy hair and a really awesome suit.“Wow.”
“Shoes!”announced the clerk, as he produced—seemingly out of thin air—a pair of shiny black oxfords that fit as if custom-made.
The clerk stuffed Leopold’s old clothes into a fabric bag adorned with the shop logo, and then the three of them walked to the sales desk.
“Put it on Cerillia Ailedrin Moss’caladin’s account, please,” said Crispin.“She’s my mother.”
