Erskine suppressed a groan. It really was everyone. Skulduggery, Ghastly, Valkyrie, Fletcher, Tanith, the two Archangels, and Merlin. And not a single one of them seemed concerned about being amused, or about appearing amused, and - in the case of a couple of them - outright laughing.
He'd just been trying to forget about most of this. Seriously? Erskine could really have done without the little tailoring appointment becoming common knowledge, and particularly among the people he most wanted not to know.
Ghastly had turned his attention to Merlin, looking for all the world like he just needed a simple distraction from the crime of the Elder Robes he was being faced with. Erskine knew better. He'd been privy to some of Ghastly's rants about ill-fitting clothes before, and knew how badly the tailor usually needed to get it out of his system. (He made some allowances for the inability to use magic, but he would not accept clothes sloppily thrown together with no rhyme or reason solely to make something that covered all the important areas. Apparently. Erskine usually tuned out halfway through those rants, but he was pretty sure that was the general gist of it.) "Would you consider wearing robes again?"
In the aftermath of his terribly tangential line of thought, Erskine had to mentally backtrack to realise what Ghastly was talking about. When he did, an expression halfway between shock and amusement crossed over his own face. Oh, Bespoke Tailors would have something to brag about if this went through. 'Bespoke Tailors - tailoring custom-made robes since the time of Merlin.' It wouldn't even be a lie, really. Just a mislead. Honestly, not even a mislead.
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He'd just been trying to forget about most of this. Seriously? Erskine could really have done without the little tailoring appointment becoming common knowledge, and particularly among the people he most wanted not to know.
Ghastly had turned his attention to Merlin, looking for all the world like he just needed a simple distraction from the crime of the Elder Robes he was being faced with. Erskine knew better. He'd been privy to some of Ghastly's rants about ill-fitting clothes before, and knew how badly the tailor usually needed to get it out of his system. (He made some allowances for the inability to use magic, but he would not accept clothes sloppily thrown together with no rhyme or reason solely to make something that covered all the important areas. Apparently. Erskine usually tuned out halfway through those rants, but he was pretty sure that was the general gist of it.) "Would you consider wearing robes again?"
In the aftermath of his terribly tangential line of thought, Erskine had to mentally backtrack to realise what Ghastly was talking about. When he did, an expression halfway between shock and amusement crossed over his own face. Oh, Bespoke Tailors would have something to brag about if this went through. 'Bespoke Tailors - tailoring custom-made robes since the time of Merlin.' It wouldn't even be a lie, really. Just a mislead. Honestly, not even a mislead.
Erskine's head was beginning to pound again.