Marton and Angel. Fashion.
Feb. 28th, 2005 03:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
palaceangelinaAfter receiving this email, Marton decides some fashion advice is in order.
Angelina tossed the magazine, watching as it hit the table and skidded off of the other side. She lifted her leg and scratched at a spot on her knee and wondered if any of the vids she had picked up were worth seeing again. She stood to go look through them when there was a knock on the door.
"Yeah." She said and pulled it open.
"Morning." Marton smiled at Angel. "Can I come in?" He didn't wait for an answer, just walked past her and into the suite, turning once he was inside to smile even wider. He waved a hand. "Come on, come on." he encouraged, leading a bemused Angel back into her own living area. He left her there and went to get two chairs from the dining table, which he placed side by side in front of the fireplace. Then he shoved the coffee table out of the way and guided her to one of the chairs. "Have a seat." he said, his eyes bright with amusement. "You and I have an appointment."
Angel let herself be lead, pulled and tugged. Sitting down, she grinned up at the man. "An appointment? What'd I forget?" She looked to where he had moved the table. "And why exactly do we need that much room? Gonna dance?" She asked laughing.
"No." Marton chuckled. "I have two left feet." He wagged an admonishing finger in front of her face. "You disobeyed me and I'm here to fix it. I told you not to be afraid to spend my money and now I'm going to give you a lesson in how to do it right."
Eyes wide, Angel wrinkled her nose, saying, "I did too. Didn't you get my email?" She stopped and then said with suspicion. "What kind of lesson?"
"I got the email, saw what you bought, that's why I'm here." Marton reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white notepad and a pen. "Here." he said, handing them to her. "Mario!" he called and the door, which had been left ajar, opened, a small dark man bustling in, wringing his hands together and smiling broadly.
"Sire." he bowed. "Ready when you are." Marton told him. The little man bowed again and left, the sound of his voice in the hall coming in through the open door. Marton looked at Angel.
"Who the hell was that?" She asked, leaning forward and peering toward the doorway.
"Mario Trenetti." Marton named one of Balize's biggest fashion houses. "He's an old friend. Catherine uses him all the time. Now," he said, hearing the sound of footsteps approaching the door. "We’re going to have a fashion parade, all right? The notebook," he nodded toward the pad he'd given her "is for writing down the numbers of the outfits you like. Each model has a numbered card on her wrist. Write down the number of every one you think is nice." He tapped the notebook for emphasis and then sat back in his chair so he could observe, arms folded in his lap as the first of the models made her entrance.
Angel listened to Marton, glanced at the notepad in her hand and then looked to where a woman walked into the room. She turned to Marton, "I - uh - she," Angel gestured to the model. "She and I aren't the same size. It won't fit."
"Don't worry 'bout that. Just focus on the clothes for now and I'll show you the rest later, kay?" Marton tilted his head and spoke into Angel's ear so the model wouldn't hear. The clothes Angel had chosen for herself were, to put it mildly, inappropriate, and if she was going to be here, which she was, if she was going to be representing his family in this unofficial fashion, then Marton was going to make sure she was more than appropriate. He'd teach her what she needed to know and it would be to her advantage as well as his own. He smiled benignly at the model and nodded. "Do you like it?" he asked Angel.
Angel looked at Marton, head cocked and assessing him. Making a decision, she smiled and nodded, looking to the model. "Yeah - yes. I like the color."
The parade went smoothly after that, the flow of models interrupted only when Marton would ask one to stop, turn again or perhaps come closer so he could feel the fabric or get a better look at some small detail. Catherine's obsessiveness when it came to fashion had rubbed off on him, it seemed. At least where women's clothes were concerned. He kept Angel busy, making note of the numbers, writing down a different color if she thought it might be better in that shade, discussing the cut and the types of fabric. When the last of the models had vanished, he looked over at her and smiled. "Fun, isn't it?" he grinned. "Now, Mario will come back in and discuss the outfits you liked, show you samples of alternate colors etc. and take your order." He sat back again, indicating without words that he expected her to deal with this part of the exercise by herself.
Angel turned to Marton; she patted her stomach and grinned widely. "Bubba and I are going to look fanfuckingtastic. This was great." Looking down at the paper she made a note and then flipped back a page. "I want to ask him about getting that third one in yellow also, kay?" She asked him. "You'll have to come by and let me show em to you when they get here."
"Of course." Marton was pleased she was enjoying herself. A happy mother meant a healthy baby. "Mario will arrange fittings and he can advise you about sizing while you grow, all right? He knows what he's talking about. He and his wife have eleven children." He got to his feet. "I think I can leave you with this, yes?"
"Eleven? Damn." She said and issued a low whistle, then looked up at him. "Oh sure. I'll take notes and him and me'll be fine. Thanks Marton. This - hell this was great." She reached and laid her hand on his arm, squeezing briefly.
Marton smiled down at her. "Not over yet, either." he told her. "You'll need clothes for after the birth, too. There's a second parade in your immediate future. Right after this one, as a matter of fact. But you're on your own for it. I have a meeting."
Angel's head snapped around and she looked toward the door. "No shit?" She said enthusiastically and flapped her hand. "Very cool. Yeah, go on. I can handle this." She said and grinned, sitting back and holding her notepad up, winking at Marton.
"Okay." On impulse, Marton bent down, cupped the side of her face and kissed her cheek. "Order lots." he reminded. "We'll have dinner when it all arrives and you can show me." He straightened just as Mario came in. Smiling at the older man and urging him to 'take good care of her', he left, giving Angel one final wave from the doorway.
Smiling Angel waved back. "Bye Daddy." She called as he left.
Angelina tossed the magazine, watching as it hit the table and skidded off of the other side. She lifted her leg and scratched at a spot on her knee and wondered if any of the vids she had picked up were worth seeing again. She stood to go look through them when there was a knock on the door.
"Yeah." She said and pulled it open.
"Morning." Marton smiled at Angel. "Can I come in?" He didn't wait for an answer, just walked past her and into the suite, turning once he was inside to smile even wider. He waved a hand. "Come on, come on." he encouraged, leading a bemused Angel back into her own living area. He left her there and went to get two chairs from the dining table, which he placed side by side in front of the fireplace. Then he shoved the coffee table out of the way and guided her to one of the chairs. "Have a seat." he said, his eyes bright with amusement. "You and I have an appointment."
Angel let herself be lead, pulled and tugged. Sitting down, she grinned up at the man. "An appointment? What'd I forget?" She looked to where he had moved the table. "And why exactly do we need that much room? Gonna dance?" She asked laughing.
"No." Marton chuckled. "I have two left feet." He wagged an admonishing finger in front of her face. "You disobeyed me and I'm here to fix it. I told you not to be afraid to spend my money and now I'm going to give you a lesson in how to do it right."
Eyes wide, Angel wrinkled her nose, saying, "I did too. Didn't you get my email?" She stopped and then said with suspicion. "What kind of lesson?"
"I got the email, saw what you bought, that's why I'm here." Marton reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white notepad and a pen. "Here." he said, handing them to her. "Mario!" he called and the door, which had been left ajar, opened, a small dark man bustling in, wringing his hands together and smiling broadly.
"Sire." he bowed. "Ready when you are." Marton told him. The little man bowed again and left, the sound of his voice in the hall coming in through the open door. Marton looked at Angel.
"Who the hell was that?" She asked, leaning forward and peering toward the doorway.
"Mario Trenetti." Marton named one of Balize's biggest fashion houses. "He's an old friend. Catherine uses him all the time. Now," he said, hearing the sound of footsteps approaching the door. "We’re going to have a fashion parade, all right? The notebook," he nodded toward the pad he'd given her "is for writing down the numbers of the outfits you like. Each model has a numbered card on her wrist. Write down the number of every one you think is nice." He tapped the notebook for emphasis and then sat back in his chair so he could observe, arms folded in his lap as the first of the models made her entrance.
Angel listened to Marton, glanced at the notepad in her hand and then looked to where a woman walked into the room. She turned to Marton, "I - uh - she," Angel gestured to the model. "She and I aren't the same size. It won't fit."
"Don't worry 'bout that. Just focus on the clothes for now and I'll show you the rest later, kay?" Marton tilted his head and spoke into Angel's ear so the model wouldn't hear. The clothes Angel had chosen for herself were, to put it mildly, inappropriate, and if she was going to be here, which she was, if she was going to be representing his family in this unofficial fashion, then Marton was going to make sure she was more than appropriate. He'd teach her what she needed to know and it would be to her advantage as well as his own. He smiled benignly at the model and nodded. "Do you like it?" he asked Angel.
Angel looked at Marton, head cocked and assessing him. Making a decision, she smiled and nodded, looking to the model. "Yeah - yes. I like the color."
The parade went smoothly after that, the flow of models interrupted only when Marton would ask one to stop, turn again or perhaps come closer so he could feel the fabric or get a better look at some small detail. Catherine's obsessiveness when it came to fashion had rubbed off on him, it seemed. At least where women's clothes were concerned. He kept Angel busy, making note of the numbers, writing down a different color if she thought it might be better in that shade, discussing the cut and the types of fabric. When the last of the models had vanished, he looked over at her and smiled. "Fun, isn't it?" he grinned. "Now, Mario will come back in and discuss the outfits you liked, show you samples of alternate colors etc. and take your order." He sat back again, indicating without words that he expected her to deal with this part of the exercise by herself.
Angel turned to Marton; she patted her stomach and grinned widely. "Bubba and I are going to look fanfuckingtastic. This was great." Looking down at the paper she made a note and then flipped back a page. "I want to ask him about getting that third one in yellow also, kay?" She asked him. "You'll have to come by and let me show em to you when they get here."
"Of course." Marton was pleased she was enjoying herself. A happy mother meant a healthy baby. "Mario will arrange fittings and he can advise you about sizing while you grow, all right? He knows what he's talking about. He and his wife have eleven children." He got to his feet. "I think I can leave you with this, yes?"
"Eleven? Damn." She said and issued a low whistle, then looked up at him. "Oh sure. I'll take notes and him and me'll be fine. Thanks Marton. This - hell this was great." She reached and laid her hand on his arm, squeezing briefly.
Marton smiled down at her. "Not over yet, either." he told her. "You'll need clothes for after the birth, too. There's a second parade in your immediate future. Right after this one, as a matter of fact. But you're on your own for it. I have a meeting."
Angel's head snapped around and she looked toward the door. "No shit?" She said enthusiastically and flapped her hand. "Very cool. Yeah, go on. I can handle this." She said and grinned, sitting back and holding her notepad up, winking at Marton.
"Okay." On impulse, Marton bent down, cupped the side of her face and kissed her cheek. "Order lots." he reminded. "We'll have dinner when it all arrives and you can show me." He straightened just as Mario came in. Smiling at the older man and urging him to 'take good care of her', he left, giving Angel one final wave from the doorway.
Smiling Angel waved back. "Bye Daddy." She called as he left.
