Lucius Spriggs finds that he actually rather likes London. It's loud, messy, mean, and very overt. Precious few people here have bothered to try and trap him in the sort of lies and traps that his parents and employers had, and even fewer of them are interested in knowing him or what he's up to at any given time of the day. His clothes still look fine enough that he's mistaken for a page fairly regularly. He delivers other mens' mail on occasion, if he's picked the letters from a pocket alongside a wallet or a snuffbox. That's always a lark because it causes immediate chaos and earns him a quick, legitimate tip for the delivery.
Unfortunately, if he means to keep up this facade, he will require more sets of clothes ere long. His face and hair are innocuous, plain enough, but a page in tatty attire is likely to draw the eyes of the law and he would really rather avoid them. So, with his ill gotten gains and an assortment of pricey little pieces of silver to fence, he heads first to the shops to find a decent tailor. That little endeavor sets him back the better portion of his saved monies but there's not much for that. After that, he heads to the market in the street, where he might be able to buy food for the week, or any little things that catch his fancy. If he's lucky, he can use the little stolen silver baubles on him to barter, if not, he will have to head to the docks to find the less discerning crowd.
It's here, meandering the market, that he finds the most delightful things. A fur here, a perfume there, and then right in the center of the stalls, in the shadow of an overhead awning, he finds a handsome man with a bolt of plain navy cloth that feels so familiar it stops him in his tracks. It's terribly rude to drag his fingers over cloth but he's dressed nicely enough, looks proper enough, that nobody has had the wherewithal to stop him. Good luck too because this bolt on this man's table feels precisely like the cloth of his mother's dresses. If he hadn't been touching it, he would have passed right by.
It's stupid. It's absurd. He can't sew. He doesn't need this. He would have to stash it under his bed in his rented room and just watch it molder away.
"How much for this one?" Lucius asks, feigning casual interest and can't quite get his fingers to leave the raw edge of the bolt alone.
It's so much fabric. It will cost him a leg, he's sure of it. He has to have it. The man behind the stall is handsome, dark hair with a dark mustache and a neatly shaped beard with only thin flecks of grey. Lucius doesn't have to try to fake his polite smile.
Coffee Shop AU (Metaphorical)
Unfortunately, if he means to keep up this facade, he will require more sets of clothes ere long. His face and hair are innocuous, plain enough, but a page in tatty attire is likely to draw the eyes of the law and he would really rather avoid them. So, with his ill gotten gains and an assortment of pricey little pieces of silver to fence, he heads first to the shops to find a decent tailor. That little endeavor sets him back the better portion of his saved monies but there's not much for that. After that, he heads to the market in the street, where he might be able to buy food for the week, or any little things that catch his fancy. If he's lucky, he can use the little stolen silver baubles on him to barter, if not, he will have to head to the docks to find the less discerning crowd.
It's here, meandering the market, that he finds the most delightful things. A fur here, a perfume there, and then right in the center of the stalls, in the shadow of an overhead awning, he finds a handsome man with a bolt of plain navy cloth that feels so familiar it stops him in his tracks. It's terribly rude to drag his fingers over cloth but he's dressed nicely enough, looks proper enough, that nobody has had the wherewithal to stop him. Good luck too because this bolt on this man's table feels precisely like the cloth of his mother's dresses. If he hadn't been touching it, he would have passed right by.
It's stupid. It's absurd. He can't sew. He doesn't need this. He would have to stash it under his bed in his rented room and just watch it molder away.
"How much for this one?" Lucius asks, feigning casual interest and can't quite get his fingers to leave the raw edge of the bolt alone.
It's so much fabric. It will cost him a leg, he's sure of it. He has to have it. The man behind the stall is handsome, dark hair with a dark mustache and a neatly shaped beard with only thin flecks of grey. Lucius doesn't have to try to fake his polite smile.