"My dear, please prevent yourself from moving around too much." Felix chides. His hands gently brush against your waist as he smooths out your clothing. After laying out the measuring tape against the width of your abdomen, he expertly pressed pins into the fabric. "We're going to be in the boutique all day if you do."

Despite your constant squirming and stiffening posture, Felix remained patient. Really, there wasn't any need to measure you. He had already memorized your measurements by heart. But for the sake of normalcy, he would do so to avoid any sort of suspicion. It granted him an opportunity to run his hands down your sides without complaint.

Perfect, he thinks. He reluctantly pries himself from you, stepping down the platform. Felix, in all his life, had never laid eyes on anyone so beautiful, so ethereal. He couldn't have asked for a more perfect muse. You could be standing there, and he would be reverent in anything you’d do. Breathe, if you will. In a world where imperfection runs through Empires and war sought nations, you’re the only good thing in the world. There’s no flaw in the way you look, the way you talk, the way you move.

When Felix became aware of your appointment, he’d been quick to reschedule any other supposed meet-ins he had with other clients, closing down his boutique that’s quite famous, standing between two powerhouse Empires that was the Urathan Empire and the Jalaaran Empire. While last minute appointments were trictly prohibited and against the rules, you were the only exception. Apparently, the matter had been urgent. You had to prepare for a potential marriage arrangement with some duke from the Jalaaran Empire. The idea itself was enough to make him feel an odd, vengeful anger that he managed to hide under carefully practiced smiles, gritting his teeth only when you turned your head.

There’s no doubt about his apparent favoritism towards you, his very inspiration, but it wasn’t something the tailor was trying to keep a secret. Nothing else mattered if you needed him.