In a back alley of a side street in a rundown block of a near forgotten neighborhood is a small shop owned by Regina Monarch. Though, of course, no one knows it as such.
The shop’s sign is constantly turned to “CLOSED,” and the lights of the store room are always off; the door remains locked and the bell forever silent. But upstairs, oh, that is a different story.
Because upstairs is where the magic happens.
“Get out of my room!”
A pincushion sails through the air and bounces–harmlessly, of course, the points of the needles sheathed safely within–off of Galileo’s face. He catches it before it falls to the floor, reflexes and the instincts making it easy.
Instead of doing as bidden, like a contrary cat, he slinks forward, stepping carefully across the floor until he can rest one hip against Regina’s work table.
“Can I see what you’re working on?” he asks, inanely, for he can already see the fabric beneath her hands and the head of her sewing machine.
“No,” she replies, equally contrary, though it doesn’t amount to much.
Galileo tilts his head, trying to decipher the shape and pattern and color. “Is that for me?”
“No,” she repeats, pulling the fabric across the plate and watching the needle stitch in furious jabs. Once finished, she holds it up–the shape of a bodice in a purple so dark it looks almost black. “This wouldn’t really fit your aesthetic, now would it?”
Galileo’s suit is designed to make him look more masculine–broaden shoulders and emphasize muscles–to differentiate the shape of the mercenary King from the whipcord thin Galileo. Which is not to say that Galileo has never needed to put on a corset for a job.
“Who is it for, then? A customer?” Because Regina Monarch’s shop only really serves one entity, and that is the identity that they created together.
“A gift for our new partner,” she says, before carefully putting down the bodice and pulling up a photo on her tablet.
Galileo stares at the blurry shot of a robbery from earlier today, an out of focus green-haired girl slightly off-center.
“Isn’t she one of the heroes?”
Regina smiles, and musingly says, “Not for long, I think.”
A/N: random thing mashed out lalalala