Everyone has a special talent hidden deep within them. When you find that special thing inside you, it snaps in place like a puzzle piece you never knew was missing. Whether the talent is physical, mental, or otherwise, one will find it. Fashion was not on Liv’s list of talents as she plucked another suit from the rack, pushing it against Donovan.

  “Ain’t it good?” She questions, carefully watching the expression on his face. To say it could sour milk would be an understatement of the highest caliber. Charlotte’s face, however, was the complete and utter opposite as she openly cackled, her hand covering her mouth as her eyes water with pure, unfiltered delight.

  “It’s great, Liv. The magenta brings out his eyes!” Charlotte says, trying to sound as sincere as possible. The attempt is, unfortunately, foiled as her smile grows to Donovan’s displeasure, her hands vanishing into her pockets. For the first time since Liv’s met her, she’s wearing something that isn’t her armor: a simple white, flowing dress. It seems to have been modified with pockets, though the stitch job looks a bit shoddy– not that Liv can tell. Her scabbard and blade are still with her, simply thrown over her shoulder instead of her hip.

  “Pick something else, please.” Donovan grounds out, his face downcast in defeat.

  Liv looks at the color choices, a hum escaping her lips. She had already put a bright orange undershirt with a neon green tie on him. They made him stand out in a crowd, and she was under the impression that was the point of the Gala– to stick out. While they hid out in Charlotte’s room, she told her the purpose of the Gala was to gather attention: to cater with the senior members, with your fellow initiates, and to get favor with the top five do their their "overwhelming talent". This outing was making Liv doubt her apparent talent as she slid the purple apparel back onto the shelves, her hands coming to her hips.

  “I thought it looked darlin’.” Liv comments, “Don’t ya wanna stand out?”

  “You do want to stand out, don’t you Donovan?” Charlotte parrots, sucking her lips in as she closes her eyes, unable to continue as Donovan shoots her a withering glare.

  “I do want to stand out, Liv,” He says slowly, his eyes boring into Charlotte. Her face begins to redden, Donovan clicking his tongue against his teeth as he turns his gaze to Liv, his expression softening as he speaks, “But this is kinda… Much?”

  Liv hums, furrowing her brows as she looks him up and down. “But yer colorful.” She says, gesturing to him with a hand. “And they look awful good. Ain't that all ya need?”

  “Isn’t it-?” Charlotte starts, but stops as Donovan shoots her another withering glare, her eyes turning away; yet, he can still see the smile stretching across her face, even as she tries to hide it. He turns back to Liv, adjusting the tie on his neck.

  “It’s color theory, Liv.” Donovan says gently, gesturing to the outfit once more. “The colors just clash. I look… Not great.” He comments as he tugs at the tie, slowly slipping it off.

  “You humans theorize on colors now?” Her boss questions in her head, her own question brewing in her mind as she looks back over the jackets. "How awfully drab."

  Charlotte told her to pick Donovan’s outfit. For some reason, she had the biggest smile on her face when she did. For what reason? She didn’t know; however, she knew she wanted to get it just right. They had placed their trust in her, and she really did want to help to the best of her abilities. This couldn't be harder than killing demons, could it?

  “So… Ya don’t like nothin’ ‘bout the outfit?” Liv questions, gesturing to Donovan as if to highlight the colorful undershirt. He nods his head in response, Liv's eyes narrowing further. It wasn't harder, per say, but it was in the ballpark. With a sigh, she turns to Charlotte. "Can't ya give me some help over here?"

  “How will you get better without practice?” She questions, streaks of mirthful tears still tracing down her face. “You gain no improvements if I hold your hand through it. Continue on, I believe in you!” She encourages, giving Liv a thumbs up. Liv nods as Charlotte takes a step back, the taller woman shooting a glance at Donovan with the largest grin on her face– Liv looking through the racks like a mole digging through dirt. Eventually, she settles on a dark red suit with matching slacks, a black undershirt, and a black belt.

  Donovan looks down at the piece, a look of pleasant surprise passing the mans face.

  “This is… Actually pretty sick, I’m not gonna lie.” He says, feeling the fabric under his fingers. He nods as his eyebrows raise, his pleasant surprise growing by the moment. “Is this wool? You just reeled in a catch and a half, Liv.” He muses, his thumb running across the expanse of the suit's chest region. He slowly turns his eye to Charlotte, a wry smile crossing his face as he waves it. “You’re still paying, yeah?”

  “...Yes, I shall.” Charlotte says slowly, a look of disappointment crossing her face. It quickly passes as she looks to Liv, seeing the glowing pride on her face. Charlotte sighs, unable to stay disappointing for long as she whips her wallet out. The three of them exit quickly after paying, the sun shining down on them as they walk through the bustling city. It’s a nicer part of town, one hasn’t had the chance to explore, her eyes glowing as she takes in everything. The buildings are made of a higher quality of brick than her previous exploratory endeavors, the colors popping in the noon sun. It wasn't as tacky as where she had been: beige, white, and dull orange dominating the architecture. The lack of tack was strike against it in Liv's opinion. It wasn't as fun looking to her, though she could admit it had its own charm. Fountains, interesting architecture, the works.

  “Are you excited?” Charlotte asks, snapping Liv out of her reverie, her head whipping to look at the taller woman.

  “Hm?” She asks, “Excited ‘bout what?”

  Charlotte furrows her brow, gesturing to herself and Liv. “We have to get something to wear to the Gala as well. You are aware of that, right?”

  “We do?” Liv asks, looking down at her outfit. It was the same type of outfit she had been wearing when she got to the Initiative. They did provide hundreds of them… So why not use them?

  “We do.” Charlotte says simply, her hands swinging in tune with her legs. “You and I are top contenders, so we must present as such. It’s for your… Reputation.” She says, her voice audibly souring as she says “reputation”. Liv blinks before looking back down at herself, her hand pulling at her shirt.

  “Uh… Aight.” She mutters. Her catalogue of outfits wasn’t an expansive one, so she wasn’t adverse to trying something new. Then again, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself again. She had done more than enough of that. Now that she was a supposed top contender, she didn’t want to be embarrassed again. If she needed a nice outfit to do that, so be it. She looks to her friend, a sheepish smile on her face. “Uh… Yer payin’, yeah? I ain’t got anythin’.”

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  “Of course!” Charlotte says, a warm smile spreading across her features. “I wouldn’t demand a cent from my dear friend!”

  “Immediate response for her, but not for me?” Donovan chimes in, nudging Charlotte with his elbow. “I smell favoritism.”

  “Of course!” Charlotte repeats, standing back to her full height. Donovan rolls his eyes, a quick "douche" peeling from his lips.

  Charlotte eventually stops, standing in front of a luxurious dress shop. Flowing pieces embroidered with gemstones, white dresses flowing down to the floor, and ones that show just a bit too much skin stand vigil in the display cases– a sample of the opulence inside as the three enter. Liv’s eyes bug out, her jaw slacking as she looks around.

  The ceiling is nearly 50 meters up, it’s domed ceiling coming up to a single point. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, each a mix of gold and silver. Mannequins are dusted throughout the building, each dressed in a fancy, expensive looking dress. Some of the finer pieces are places upon terraces, the mannequins that wear them posed in various positions.The floor is a singular color, though the polish gives it an almost ethereal quality, the ceiling reflected back.

  Liv looks at Donovan, his face mirroring her exact expression– Charlotte looks entirely unphased, though. She simply walks in, a woman in modest clothing coming to greet her. They speak in quiet, hushed tones, Liv and Donovan coming up on their flank, both still wide eyed by the opulence of it all. After a moment's wait, Charlotte turns around as she speaks in her respectful yet monotone voice.

  “Allow me to introduce you to my good friend, Liv Boss,” She says, taking a step to the side, Liv completely exposed to the gaze of the modest woman. She’s almost hawk-like in appearance, sharp cheekbones and sunken eyes with a nose that hooks out like a beak. Her clothing gives her an enigmatic feeling, little to no skin visible to human eyes as she regards Liv, Charlotte continuing with, “She achieved the fifth spot within the Initiatives recent testing.”

  The modest woman gives Liv a once over before nodding, her voice controlled as she speaks. “Greeting, Ms. Boss. I am Isabella Odziez. It is a pleasure to have you in my store.” Her voice draws out, almost completely monotone. Liv blinks as her instinct takes over, her hand shooting out to grab the woman’s almost leathery hands, giving it a quick yet firm pump.

  “Liv Boss.” She says simply, the modest woman staring at her blankly as she looks between their conjoined hands and the one who conjoined them. Charlotte’s calm mask cracks as she purses her lips, closing her eyes as she tries to compose herself, her chest spasming while trying to stifle a laugh.

  “I am… Aware.” Isabella says, pulling her hand back, wiping it off on her other hand. “You come for clothing, yes?”

  “Y-yeah.” Liv nods, her eyes wandering around the pristine building.

  “You’ve come to the right place. I make the best. What type you want?” The modest woman questions, her voice still as monotone as ever. Each sentence is almost a statement– even the questions.

  Liv turns her head back, the question catching her off guard. What did she want…? She didn’t really give that any thought. She turns her gaze to Charlotte, the taller woman’s composure reasserted as she returns Liv’s gaze.

  “My friend isn’t very knowledgeable on dresses, Mrs. Odziez.” Charlotte interjects, drawing the modest woman's attention. “If you could make something that would make her stand out, that would be most appreciated.”

  “You want a custom?” Isabella questions, sparing a glance at Liv before turning her eyes back to Charlotte. “When is deadline?”

  “In a few days.” Charlotte responds, her voice calm and collected. "I apologize if that is not enough time. A tailored dress of your quality would be more than enough."

  Isabella only nods, producing a tape measure from her outfit, slowly walking forward as Liv stares on, a confused look on her face as Isabella grabs her by the arm, her fingers unable to make it halfway around her wrist as she drags Liv off.

  The two arrive at the end of the building, a wide range of doors before them. Isabella opens the first before her, revealing one of the buildings many dressing rooms. It's quite large, almost larger than Liv's room with beautiful marble floors, mirrors marking each wall, showing her reflection with every angle. It's truly something to behold... Slowly, she turns to Isabella, the door closing behind them.

  "I know this ain't none too much a surprise to ya," Liv starts, rubbing the back of her neck with her gauntleted hand, "But I ain't done this 'fore. Anythin' I should know?"

  Isabella nods simply, her hands flaring out at measuring tapes snake out of every hole in her dress. Liv's eyes widen further as they rise out like a flame, looking almost sentient, their tops turning to her. She takes a step back, and another, and another until– eventually– her back presses up against the cold material of the mirror, Isabella approaching slowly.

  "This will take long." She says curtly, the tape measures snaking out toward Liv, wrapping around each of her extremities. She yelps, tugging at them all with all her strength. The material gives way as Isabella stumbles onto her face, crashing with a loud thud. Liv's heart thuds loudly in her chest, her arms shaking as they rise into a defensive position.

  "HELL'S THAT?" Liv yelps, her voice wobbling as Isabella slowly pushes herself to her feet. Liv prepares herself, already tugging on the mental link between her and her boss. Slowly, the modest woman dusts her clothing off, a huff of displeasure escaping her mouth as she looks down at the ripped tape measures.

  "Measures expensive. That comes out of your wallet." She says, slowly picking up the pieces of the ripped tape measures. Liv's drumming heart finally begins to slow, her arms falling as a sliver of regret worms its way into her chest.

  "I didn't mean to do that," Liv mutters, reaching down to help, "Ya just scared me, and-."

  "Apology does nothing." Isabella says, raising her hand to live in a hush motion, the authority in it straightening Liv's back. "Your money apologize for you. I need new measure." With that, she quickly leaves, coming back swiftly with a long, yellow tape measure.

  She approaches slowly, almost cautiously, raising it to Liv's chest. "I measure you now." She states. After a few steps, she pauses, looking unsure for the first time since they met. "Is that okay?"

  "Yeah?" Liv says, almost uncertainly as the yellow tape measure wraps around her chest. It's a slow, uncomfortable process as her body is measured: from her chest to her legs, each part is meticulously measured with a professional detachment. There isn't a single peep from either party, an uncomfortable silence dominating the space between the two. After what feels like an hour, Isabella stands back up with her tape measure in hand, a neutral expression on her face.

  "Measurements done. You leave now." She says curtly. Before Liv can question, she feels more measures snake out of the modest woman's clothes, ensnaring her like a trapped animal. The door opens as Liv is dragged out, eyes turning to see the almost comical scene, Liv struggling against the restraints that constrain her like a mummy.

  The lobby doors swing open as Liv is thrown onto the sidewalk, the doors closing behind her as she pushes herself up. After a moment, the doors open again, Donovan sailing through the air before landing face first on the pavement.

  "Owww..." Donovan groans, pushing himself up by the forearms. Liv, already stood up, reaches her hand down to help him up– a hand quickly accepted. A question springs to mind, Liv's mouth moving before she can think.

  "Why'd ya get kicked out?" She questions, her head cocking to the side.

  "Being loud, I guess." Donovan mutters, rubbing his jaw with a hand. "Just trying to make some new friends..."

  Liv slowly nods, the doors swinging open as Charlotte walks out, a cheery smile on her face. When she spots Liv, her eyes brighten further, almost prancing over to her.

  "Liv!" She says, her voice just a bit too happy. "How was it?"

  "Errr..." Liv starts, tugging at her collar. "Ain't my best."

  "That's too bad." Charlotte mutters, still looking too happy. Liv slowly nods, sweat pouring down her back.

  "A-are ya mad at me?" Liv questions, looking at the cheery woman before her. At Charlotte's still too joyous, questioning gaze, she elaborates, "Cause I broke them measures, n' they were expensive..."

  "Oh, that?" Charlotte says, her smile growing. "Of course not! Not my money, anyway!" She almost chirps, her hands clasping behind her. Liv lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding, her muscles relaxing in an instant.

  "Not your money." Donovan slowly says, his lips pursing. "So you wouldn't mind getting some food-?"

  "Ohhh, would you look at the time?" Charlotte comments, looking at the bright, blue sky. "It's so late... We better get home."

  Donovan furrows his brow, looking to the bright blue sky. "It's literally not-."

  Donovan stops as Charlotte simply... Begins to walk off, her hands swinging rhythmically as she hums. A vein pops up on Donovan's head as he sprints toward her, Liv following in quick succession. With her mind eased, she felt quite a bit better about the day. Her spirits were raised, and the Gala was just a handful of days away.