Figleaf Leatherworks Ch. 04

Emory swallowed hard. "What makes you say that?"

"I bet it's the elf girl."

"Uh- w- why?"

"She has nice legs. They curve in this certain way that even with those baggy trousers of hers it's obvious she's got a lot going on. And those hips? Lovely. No, see, the way you've been staring at my legs since we met, I have to imagine that's one of your things— plus! She has a great ass."

Emory chuckled nervously. She was right, Keline's ass was pretty spectacular- but when it came down to it she was a statue's representation of a goddess. A tribute to the truest perfections of the female form, one that no mortal could hope to describe, much less imitate.

Glysless perked at Emory's blush. "Ohh, am I on the right trail?"

"I think your cart threw a wheel."

"Well. . . .piss." She laughed a little nervously. "Maybe there'll be a strong young man there to help me remount it. Orrr perhaps there's two of them? Is the male form more to your liking?"

Emory did the only thing he could do; he pushed himself into the work. He forced himself to complete it to the best of his abilities as quickly as possible. The two of them fell into a calm but uneasy silence reminding Emory that whatever she might have been she was still part of the world: she could be embarrassed and nervous. Didn't that mean she was closer to mortal than anything daemonic?

It was strangely endearing and human, and it didn't feel like an act she was putting on either. Hell! For all he knew, Lindress might actually be into the idea—. . . .no he was just being greedy.

Why shouldn't he entertain the idea? Lindress always wanted him to be more assertive, right? Yes, granted, there was a wide gulf between bringing her flowers and trying to start a threesome with a daemon. Why was he even considering it?! Emory glanced up briefly to see Glysless watching him casually.

In a small, willowy voice, he heard himself say: "I'll talk to them about it."

"Them." She said languidly. "A man of mystery, too, mister Emory?"

"I uh, it's. . . .it's complicated."

Glysless tutted. "Only because you people make things so. If you chose to live an uncomplicated life with those who feel likewise, suddenly all that fear and anxiety- of which you possess a great deal, I can tell- turns to ash in your hands." She leaned forward for the kill, flashing a toothy smile. "I am very uncomplicated, mister Emory."

"I don't know if I believe that."

"You should, you should believe everything that comes out of my mouth and only half of what goes into it."

Emory found himself chuckling at that. He turned over the mantle for inspection. "How's this look, madam Glysless?"

The woman laughed goodnaturedly. She ran her fingers over the stitching, inspecting the place where the wound had been. It now looked like the stem of a piece of wheat with the grains used to hide the actual structural work that sealed it. Glysless rubbed at the stitching, pulled one way and the other, rolled the leather in her hands to simulate normal usage. After a few rounds of this she nodded approvingly.

"Very good," Her gaze turned to him with a playful smile. "Broad shoulders and you're good with your fingers, someone's very lucky to know you."

"I'm the one who's blessed-"

"Not yet, you're not." Glysless tucked her wings against her shoulders and swept the mantle over them. Her talons peeked out and settled into the worn divots to hang there. Without much thought she produced twelve coppers and set them in two neat stacks on the table. "Now that that's out of the way, if you're up for another project. . ."

"Does it involve your spurs?"

She grinned. "It might if you ask very nicely."

Emory found himself emboldened by that, invigorated even. "Weren't you the one asking just a bit ago?"

"Think of it as an ongoing negotiation," Glysless purred. "I'd like to commission some custom work." She produced a piece of folded paper. Actual, thick stock, finely cut, paper.

Emory gawked momentarily before he picked up the sheet. There were measurements on it in three different blocks. When he looked up to her she was smiling with this knowing little grin that said his confusion was expected. "A corset, a pair of cuffs, a pair of thigh cuffs, and a collar." The daemon woman leaned forward with a conspiratorial expression.

"Uh. . ."

"Up for it?"

"Uhm. . . .there are shops that can do the corset- there's a boutique in the Diamond Quarter."

"I'm not paying them fifteen dracemi for what they offer, Emory." She said derisively. "What they do is try to shape a woman's body to fit their idea of beauty. What I want to do is accent what's beautiful about it." She poked the sheet of paper. "See this? The waist size? They insisted it would need to be tucked in by a quarter! Do you know what that does to someone's rib cage?"

Emory frowned at that. "I just. . . .I don't know if we're the right people for this."

"Fifty gold says you are, mister Emory."

Vellmullod glanced over at that assertion. Her gaze lingered. Narrowed.

Emory stared at her at her, too. Not that he didn't believe she had that kind of money- or that she'd spend it- but why would she spend it?

As if she could read his mind, she produced a fat sack that clinked when it thudded down on the table. She opened it to show fifty little gold slabs minted with the local treasury's seal on them. All of it real. All of it way too much for such work- more than the shop made in a year.

"I. . ." Emory swallowed, staring at the daemon woman and not her money. "Why?"

Glysless took her chin in her hand again. "Do you question every customer that comes through your door like this, or am I special case? It's the wings, isn't it? You can tell me."

"N- you're definitely a special case," he said. "I'm. . ." Turning away this much coin was madness, his father would flay him alive and he'd probably be right to. But was dealing with a daemon really the smartest idea in the world? There were plenty of stories told about 'evil spirits' that did all kinds of crazy shit when bargains weren't fulfilled, but in the same way Emory wasn't her Jascon, Glysless hadn't come off of the normal evil spirit kind of daemon.

She had such a nice, gentle smile and she was so respectful of everything- joking and casual, she wouldn't hurt any of them, right? Emory looked over the measurements thoughtfully for a moment as his mind worked through the odds of their survival if it all went ass over end. If he was seriously wrong about her, he might have been condemning everyone in the shop to death and if he was right and he let her walk out the door? He slumped back in his chair and ran a hand over his face.

"You can tell me no," she said casually.

Emory cupped his chin, studying her. It was another chance to prove to his father that his ideas were sound- that you could sustain a business like theirs off of exotic and boutique work. He'd absolutely shit himself if he saw fifty gold dumped into his palm. And! He'd proven he could attract noble orders already— this was an absolute windfall. Two in as many days.

"If you do," she grinned. "I'll be going to your competitors. I'll probably get inferior work and noooo warranty, so I'll never have another reason to visit." Her gaze turned towards the ceiling bemusedly. "What a shame that'd be."

"So what happens if we can't do the work?" He asked in a carefully neutral tone.

Glysless looked momentarily surprised, her brows arched as if she hadn't even considered the possibility. "Well, are you going to charge me even if you can't?"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." He said to himself. Outwardly he simply smiled. "The cuffs and, uh, collar- are easy enough. The corset might be a bit of a challenge, though."

As those words left his mouth Emory felt his entire being shift just a little bit; something twanged inside him, like the words burned at his sense of pride. They were a shop of artisans, dammit, why couldn't they make it? Why couldn't they make it one of the best looking pieces the entire region had ever seen?

"You know what, maybe you're right-"

"No, I'm just trying to figure out how I can best serve you." Emory straighted up and grabbed a slate. This was the chance of a lifetime, he couldn't let it get away from them. He quickly sketched out something that looked like a very body hugging leather cuirass. "I don't think this is what you had in mind, but if you give me a day to do some research and plan some designs. . ."

Glysless's eyes were still sharp amber, studying him with a quiet amusement. "Mmm, all right. We'll play it your way. Use some of this to buy some paper and do it properly." She held a hand up when Emory started to object. "Given everything you've shown me so far I can trust your judgment."

"I'm flattered."

"You should be, I never trust people this easily." She drummed her fingers on her cheek, shrugged. "Come find me tonight at the Hung Buzzard on Quartz. Even if you don't have designs ready, we can have a meal and do that other four letter word ending in K that means intercourse."

"Talk?"

That earned a sincere smile as the daemon woman rose and gently set her hat between her horns. "Don't be there after I'm drunk, I'm not nearly as much fun to hang around."

Emory rose, offering a hand. "I look forward to working with you, miss G—" He bit his own tongue when he remembered the noble woman in the building. The one that made this daemon nervous. "Miss. . . .Guilar."

Glys tipped her hat and winked and before Emory knew it she was leaving, he was there with fifty gold in potential income and a tall order to fulfill. . . .and a whirlwind of butterflies in his stomach.

"You're blushing," Keline said as she sat on the edge of his table. She eyed the sack of money and her eyes widened.

"Think you can help me out with this order? It's uh— special."

"I- y- yes, I think I can make time?" Her gaze never left the coinage.

"Great. . . .we need to get some paper. We don't have much time."