J.R. Ward Quote
Hey, can I help you—whoa! As he wheeled around and settled into his attack stance, the black human salesperson jumped back and put his palms up. Forgive me, Xcor muttered. At least he hadn’t outed one of his weapons. No problem. The handsome, well-dressed man smiled. You looking for something specific? Xcor glanced around, and nearly walked back to that fancy stairwell. I require a new shirt. Oh, cool, you got a hot date? And pants. And socks. Come to think of it, he never wore underwear. And undergarments. And a jacket. The salesman smiled and raised a hand as if he were going to clap his customer on the shoulder—but then caught himself as he clearly rethought the contact. What kind of look are you going for? he asked instead. Clothed. The guy paused like he wasn’t sure whether that was a joke. Ah . . . okay, I can work with non-naked. Plus it’s legal. Come on with me. Xcor followed, because he didn’t know what else to do—he’d gotten this ball rolling; there was no reason not to follow through. The man stopped in front of a display of shirts. So I’m going to go with the it’s-a-date thing, unless you tell me otherwise. Casual? You didn’t mention a suit. Casual. Yes. But I want to look. . . . Well, not like himself, at any rate. Presentable. Then I think what you’re going to want is a button-down. A button-down. The guy regarded him steadily. You’re not from here, are you. No, I’m not. I can tell by the accent. The salesman passed a hand over the dizzying array of folded-up squares with collars. These are our traditional cuts. I can tell without measuring you that the European stuff isn’t going to do you right—you’re too muscled in the shoulders. Even if we could get the neck and arm size right, you’d bust out of them. Do you like any of these colors? I don’t know what to like. Here. The man picked up a blue one that reminded Xcor of the backdrop on his phone. This is good with your eyes. Not that I go that way—but you gotta work with what you got. Do you have any idea of your size? XXXL. We need to be a little more exact.
Hey, can I help you—whoa! As he wheeled around and settled into his attack stance, the black human salesperson jumped back and put his palms up. Forgive me, Xcor muttered. At least he hadn’t outed one of his weapons. No problem. The handsome, well-dressed man smiled. You looking for something specific? Xcor glanced around, and nearly walked back to that fancy stairwell. I require a new shirt. Oh, cool, you got a hot date? And pants. And socks. Come to think of it, he never wore underwear. And undergarments. And a jacket. The salesman smiled and raised a hand as if he were going to clap his customer on the shoulder—but then caught himself as he clearly rethought the contact. What kind of look are you going for? he asked instead. Clothed. The guy paused like he wasn’t sure whether that was a joke. Ah . . . okay, I can work with non-naked. Plus it’s legal. Come on with me. Xcor followed, because he didn’t know what else to do—he’d gotten this ball rolling; there was no reason not to follow through. The man stopped in front of a display of shirts. So I’m going to go with the it’s-a-date thing, unless you tell me otherwise. Casual? You didn’t mention a suit. Casual. Yes. But I want to look. . . . Well, not like himself, at any rate. Presentable. Then I think what you’re going to want is a button-down. A button-down. The guy regarded him steadily. You’re not from here, are you. No, I’m not. I can tell by the accent. The salesman passed a hand over the dizzying array of folded-up squares with collars. These are our traditional cuts. I can tell without measuring you that the European stuff isn’t going to do you right—you’re too muscled in the shoulders. Even if we could get the neck and arm size right, you’d bust out of them. Do you like any of these colors? I don’t know what to like. Here. The man picked up a blue one that reminded Xcor of the backdrop on his phone. This is good with your eyes. Not that I go that way—but you gotta work with what you got. Do you have any idea of your size? XXXL. We need to be a little more exact.
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