"I do have a black one," Lucius muses thoughtfully at the door. He hauls it open and drums fingers on it as his other hand swirls his stupid frozen drink. That also gets a glance and he perks up. Izzy's already kicked him out, though, so he doesn't offer any other comment before meandering out the door.
The rest of the day passes uneventfully and, as predictable as clockwork, Lucius is back the next morning.
Today he's dressed in his own awful shirt. It's not unlike his usual striped shirt in cut, though given the raw edge on it he may have ensured that personally. Tragically, the shirt is not the same muted colors as his normal attire--this one is an excruciatingly bright purple with a clashing yellow and orange sunrise scene painted on the front of it. His linen trousers are replaced with awful matching (clashing?) cargo shorts and a pair of flippy-floppy-sandals are on his feet.
When Izzy opens the door, Lucius will toss him the folded black shirt he has in hand. It is an order of magnitude more tolerable than the rest of the shirts Stede had picked out for him. It's still hideous of course, the plants are printed across it in a garish, searing neon blue, but it's mostly black.
Unfortunately, today he can't stay and chat. He doesn't toss the bottle of colorful skull tequila at him, but it's a near thing.
"Back later, still not poisoned," Lucius tells him and dips out quickly.
If Izzy is still around in an hour, Lucius will return, dressed normally with a basket of folded laundry under one arm.
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The rest of the day passes uneventfully and, as predictable as clockwork, Lucius is back the next morning.
Today he's dressed in his own awful shirt. It's not unlike his usual striped shirt in cut, though given the raw edge on it he may have ensured that personally. Tragically, the shirt is not the same muted colors as his normal attire--this one is an excruciatingly bright purple with a clashing yellow and orange sunrise scene painted on the front of it. His linen trousers are replaced with awful matching (clashing?) cargo shorts and a pair of flippy-floppy-sandals are on his feet.
When Izzy opens the door, Lucius will toss him the folded black shirt he has in hand. It is an order of magnitude more tolerable than the rest of the shirts Stede had picked out for him. It's still hideous of course, the plants are printed across it in a garish, searing neon blue, but it's mostly black.
Unfortunately, today he can't stay and chat. He doesn't toss the bottle of colorful skull tequila at him, but it's a near thing.
"Back later, still not poisoned," Lucius tells him and dips out quickly.
If Izzy is still around in an hour, Lucius will return, dressed normally with a basket of folded laundry under one arm.