"And you enjoy this?" He looks to Eliot, a smile at his lips, half joking and half needing to make sure that Eliot really had been telling the truth. He doesn't see any sign on Eliot's face that he is having a bad time, and for now, that's enough. It all seems so inexact and time consuming, but maybe that's the entire point. Like Eliot said, making a day of it.
"Shopping for me was...very different, but I may enjoy this. I don't know yet quite what to expect except for the sort of things I've seen people wear around town." They're approaching what he assumes is their quarry- a storefront bigger than all of the others. The large sign above what is less a doorway and more an opening in the wall proclaims it Dacy's, and Jack heads in that direction. He's not entirely sure what section of the store they've entered in, but the clothing here is a kind that he hasn't ever seen before. There are pants with a strange shine to them, some that look like they're meant to be worn tight against the skin, some oddly-cut shirts covered in bright geometric patterns. A sign at the back wall shows a man smiling as he runs. He looks at it with some confusion. It's all very strange.
"Though I do understand now why even the boutiques are so large. When you're having a piece made to order, the tailor only needs space for the fabric and perhaps a few samples. Like this, they need space for ten of the same piece, for every—" He reaches out and touches a pair of pants as they pass, and immediately stops and goes back to it. The fabric is odd and smooth, and has a little stretch when he pulls it between his hands. "—piece. What the hell is this made of?"
no subject
"Shopping for me was...very different, but I may enjoy this. I don't know yet quite what to expect except for the sort of things I've seen people wear around town." They're approaching what he assumes is their quarry- a storefront bigger than all of the others. The large sign above what is less a doorway and more an opening in the wall proclaims it Dacy's, and Jack heads in that direction. He's not entirely sure what section of the store they've entered in, but the clothing here is a kind that he hasn't ever seen before. There are pants with a strange shine to them, some that look like they're meant to be worn tight against the skin, some oddly-cut shirts covered in bright geometric patterns. A sign at the back wall shows a man smiling as he runs. He looks at it with some confusion. It's all very strange.
"Though I do understand now why even the boutiques are so large. When you're having a piece made to order, the tailor only needs space for the fabric and perhaps a few samples. Like this, they need space for ten of the same piece, for every—" He reaches out and touches a pair of pants as they pass, and immediately stops and goes back to it. The fabric is odd and smooth, and has a little stretch when he pulls it between his hands. "—piece. What the hell is this made of?"