Armani bluchers sounded on tile floors as Beau entered one of the largest office buildings in that particular stretch of Manhattan. He removed his Gucci sunglasses and clasped him in the v-neck of his shirt. As his eyes adjusted, he took in the various sights of the building.  

People rushed past him, a few stopping to do a double take. Most of them had places to be or bosses to appease and didn't bother to take their time walking. It was a busy building, and everyone had a purpose. Luckily for Beau, so did he.

He moved through the building, flashing a visitor's card at the man in front of the elevators, and made his way to one of the very top levels. The elevator opened and dropped him off in an office that seemed somehow even nicer than the lower levels, if that was even possible. It was small, but extravagant and modern. It was somehow minimalistic and detailed all at the same time. It looked like a space for Miranda Streep.

The carpet absorbed the noise, a stark difference from the tile in the lobby, as he made his way over to the receptionist's desk and leaned over the side a little. He flashed a dazzling smile at the person across from him and dangled his visitor's badge over the edge.

"Beau Bishop for Miranda Streep? I have an appointment," he explained. His manager had booked it for him after his last stylist had retired. She was supposed to be the best of the best, which meant Beau had to have her. 

He wanted his clothes to look as good as he knew he did, and Miranda Streep would be the person who could ensure that would happen. 

The hotel was being slow about Ms. Streep's showroom reservation and now they'd left her on hold so long that June was sure the hotel had forgotten about her. Maybe they were having an emergency meeting or something to discuss the pros and cons. She nibbled the end of her pen after she put a question mark after her note. Perhaps they should change venues?

The elevator chimed to announce today's appointment and the doors parted like clouds in order to allow through the face of an angel.

Angels do not exist. She sometimes had to remind herself of that when working here for her. Ms. Streep liked to surround herself with all things beautiful. At least on the outside. That was what mattered to the woman most.

June visually drank him down. He wasn't as tall as most of the models that came through, but he wasn't short. His face and body shape were nicely maintained, but his cheekbones were not sharp. He was dressed in money, but without a single Streep item on him. He meant to impress. This was not Ms. Streep's typical morsel.

> "Beau Bishop for Miranda Streep? I have an appointment"

Her handset clicked into its cradle and the assistant shot off a quick warning email to Miranda so that she would be ready before she stood and kissed the air beside each of his cheeks. "Mister Bailey, of course." Her soft French accent was as perfect as her matte manicure. Everything about her ensemble screamed casual luxury from the cling of her long copper necklace to the peep toe of her pump.

"Can I get you anysing to drink? Tea? Coffee? Water?" She rattled off a few alternate options that were far too alcoholic for this hour as she led Mr. Bishop to the grand doorway that segmented June from her boss.

She knocked and heard a soft 'Entrer' that allowed them passage from the minimalist office to an almost industrial chic. The woman had busts with fabric draped here and there, hats, shoes, leather, bags, and magazines all meant to inspire.

"Ah! Beau! I hear you've been terribly mistreated. Come let me spoil you. June?"

She stopped from her strategic retreat of going and getting Beau's drink and turned with bland apprehension.

"Miranda?" The woman hated to be called ma'am, madame, or any permutation thereof.

"What is our fetching Beau's next public engagement?"

Shoot. June should have anticipated that one.

"I will call his publicist and confirm that for you."

"See that you do." Was her dismissal. Miranda was a hound on the scent of a marketing breakthrough. Poor, poor Beau.

Beau mimicked the kissing motion that the pretty Italian(? he had no idea) girl on the other side of the desk made when she stood up. She was sort of cute, and definitely sophisticated, but she looked very young. He averted his eyes quickly, not wanting to give anyone watching any sort of ideas.

"Water. Sparkling, if you have it," Beau responded, his grin as wide and practiced as ever.

He stepped into the office of the woman he'd come to see and drank in the sight of it. It was even better than he'd expected it to be. Busts covered in fabric, shoes, bags, magazines, and of course, sketches, filled the office. It was rather amazing, really. He felt as though he was somewhere very important. Which, of course, he was.

"Ah! Beau! I hear you've been terribly mistreated. Come let me spoil you. June?"

Beau had opened his mouth to reply with some sort of charming quip, but Miranda had already moved on to addressing her assistant. There seemed to be something unspoken between them, but for some reason, it almost seemed off. Perhaps he'd just distracted the girl with his good looks. That happened from time to time, and he could hardly blame her.

"I'm appearing on a late night talk show for an interview on Friday, if that helps any," Beau supplied. He liked to know his schedule ahead of time, and he wanted to get right to the clothes. If he could save them any time, then he would. 

He took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of Miranda's desk, smoothing his shirt down on his chest as he did so. 

Sparkling water? Easy. Miranda needed her pre-lunch espresso. While that was brewing, June made a quick phone call and got Beau's next few engagements by name only. The actual times and dates would arrive by email. She hadn't been gone more than 6 minutes when June tapped on the door again and returned with a tray holding a tiny coffee mug, a glass bottle, and a folded piece of paper with June's neat script describing Beau's schedule.

Miranda, for her part, had started in by asking Beau his goals and his likes. She complimented him endlessly on his taste.

"For the talk show- come in, June darling- you'll be sitting for the most part so we'll be flattering the figure with that in mind. Notsing too cinch-y or pinchy. How do you feel about gingham or textures?" Miranda made notes as she went, rattling off some options and looking to June periodically.

June distributed the drinks with furrowed eyebrows.

Was Beau... a psychic? June tried. She really did, but nothing was happening. Usually she could get, something. This was like banging her head against a brick wall.

When Miranda received the list of engagements her eyebrows rose expectantly at her assistant. June shook her head and a silent moment of wordless communication passed between them. There would be no short cutting this process. No peek into Beau's head to see his real goals and expectations.

"Go pull these items." Her voice was cool as she handed the jumble of notes over. She started a new page for herself and referenced the list.

"Oooh. I see you have an award ceremony. Do we have room to be creative here? Make a statement?"

June pressed her lips together and shot Beau a grumpy look as she passed. Was he a better psychic than she was? Looking at his vapid face and smile? She seriously doubted that he was both that good an actor and psychic. She went to fetch options from the sample closet. The sizing was irrelevant. It would all be tailored to his body specifically. That was sort of the point of all this, after all.

"Gingham... sure..." Beau nodded, trying to seem as if he had any idea what she was talking about. Sure, he'd spent years being dressed and getting to see the fashion industry, but he didn't actually know that much about it. He mostly just listened to whatever his stylist told him to wear and stuck to that. He even slept through the few runway shows he'd been invited to.

June handed him the sparkling water with her eyebrows furrowed. Beau didn't think much of the expression, so he simply tipped it toward her in thanks and then took a small sip. He actually preferred regular water to sparkling water, but he figured that the bubbles made him look more... cultured.

He watched as Miranda surrendered the few notes she'd written down to her assistant. From what little he could see of them, he didn't think that they made any sort of logical sense. Then again, maybe they would to her assistant. She didn't seem all that terrified by the words that had been scribbled down hastily.

"Sure you can," Beau grinned and flicked the wrist that wasn't holding his water away from him. "Get as creative as you'd like - just don't make me look like Lady Gaga." He winked at the end of that statement and then glanced around for the assistant girl. He'd realized somewhere over the course of the conversation that he'd lost her interest, and he rather wanted to get it back. As much as he told himself that he was above all that stuff, Beau did like it when people fawned over him. 

"So," he clapped his hands together, "what do you have for me? Enough for a little fashion show?"

Two women doting over him while he tried on clothes and got to look at himself in the mirror? Beau was so there.

Ugh. This orange with his skin? June pulled a woven shirt and double checked, but... yeah, she'd said orange. Terrible. June impertinently added a greyish blue option that would accentuate the man's eyes. Beau was a devil. Or stupid. June clung to that hope as she hung a small pile of shirts onto a rolling rack. The closet attendant hung a bag of accessories and hung a tie tree at the end. The woman should have known better than to smile so much. She was getting crow's feet.

"I still have to fetch shoes." June nodded and made a tick on the list before pulling an assistant who was buzzing through.

"Can you roll these up to the foyer in front of Miranda's office? If for some reason you absolutely have to go inside knock first." There was a man in there, for goodness sakes. There was no telling what Miranda had him doing.

Ms. Streep purred her adoration for his good (and vague) taste. He was open to options and that was an admirable trait that she made sure to emphasize as an asset. He was nicely moldable. The ideal doll to dress had no opinions.

And the fact that he was open to fresh ideas! She buttered him up and got right down to taking measurements so that she could make something truly original. Of course, he was wearing too much to get a close measurement so she helped him out of his jacket. That he removed his shirt all on his own, was just pure bliss for an admirer of the human form.

Miranda was careful to remain professional at first even if she measured and re-measured a few extra times for fun. When June was able to shimmy the door open and roll the clothing rack in, forgetting her own advice to knock first, she knew this day was only going to get worse for her. June's boss had her arms around Beau's midsection and was leaning around to see where the tape met. Her eyes flicked up to meet June's and the assistant hastily reached out to knock on the door.

"Come in." Miranda straightened and pat Beau on the shoulder to let him know that he could put his arms down again. "Miss Coilin, why don't you go behind the changing screen to help our fair Beau." To Beau she smiled. "She can pin things in the right places for tailoring so you can approve a fit."

All quite normal, really. It was in no way trying to punish her assistant or trying to bribe the customer with a pretty, young face.

Beau quite liked the Streep woman. Perhaps it was the fact that she seemed to like him even more or maybe the fact that she was offering to dress him in fancy new clothes. Whatever it was, Beau knew that he had nothing to worry about in that moment. He relaxed and let the ladies take the lead.

He removed his jacket and shirt when he was instructed to, having no qualms about being shirtless. In fact, he almost preferred to be that way. He pretended not to notice the fact that she measured a few more times than necessary, or that her hands lingered a little longer than they should have. Heck, if he had been in her position, he knew that he would have done the same thing. It was really just a shame that he couldn't be in her position.

He winked at June as she pulled a trolley back into the room and let his arms fall to his side. He stepped off the little podium, bidding adieu to the reflection that he saw in the full-length mirror.

The changing screen was just a few feet away. He saluted Miranda before stepping behind the screen and then looked to the pretty brunette who was to be dressing him.

"So how do we go about doing this? Need me to remove anything else?" He winked at her and stuck his thumbs through the belt loops on his pants. He'd grown rather accustomed to stripping down for scenes, so he wasn't exactly ashamed about any part of his body.

It also didn't hurt that the assistant was very pretty. And... Serbian? English? He still had no idea.

He winked. Why? Could he not see that she wasn't interested? He was thick, June decided. Stupid. Handsome. Dumb. Idiot. She tried to send him all of that telepathically, minus the handsome bit. If he heard it from her, his head might swell to unmanageable sizes.

Beau swaggered himself over to the screen and June unhooked the accessories bag so that Miranda could pick through and choose.

'What is your problem today?' Miranda was practically shouting into June's head. Their guest would not hear a thing. Unless he, too, was psychic. June glanced at the screen to make sure there was no reaction.

Ugh. She was not excited to go behind the screen, but he was expecting her so she hurried.

'He's either a stronger psychic, or... or guarded. I don't know!'

'Well then smile and charm him. Not everyone can cheat you kn—' Miranda's mental chatter was cut off abruptly as soon as she tugged the trolley behind the screen. Like a lightswitch. One moment, mental shouting. The next, silence.

She was so shocked that June forgot to frown, she just looked at Beau in wonder.

Was that his power?

He asked about logistics and June tucked her hair behind her ear, flustered. The mutation aspect of this encounter was throwing her game face off. Smile. She was supposed to smile. She turned and tossed an undershirt at him, at best managing a smirk. He had winked. Again. "Trousers come off too, mon cœur."

Ugh. It had just popped out. She'd been trying to slip in an endearment of some kind, but my heart was the worst. June pulled the orange shirt and a pair of tweedy pants. It was best to get the bad stuff out of the way first. And maybe, just maybe, she would not mind if he looked a little worse. If he had objections about what she'd chosen, he could pull from the rack behind her.

The French in June's statement went right over Beau's head. If it had had any sort of romantic connotation, then he would have no idea.

"Off they come, then," Beau grinned and unbuckled his belt. In his situation, most people would have been a little warier about stripping down to their skivvies in front of two people who were essentially strangers, but not Beau. He dropped his pants and kicked them to the side.

Beau stepped into the center of the little area sectioned off by the screen and then extended his chest. In only his boxers, he felt entirely liberated. He sucked in a deep breath and put his hands on his waist.

He only wished that he was able to admire himself in a mirror. Or, even better, from where June was standing. In some sort of out of body experience. He made a mental note to see if that was a possibility. If there was research happening, then Beau would be funding it.

With a sigh, Beau ceased admiring himself and turned to June. He caught the undershirt that had been tossed at him and pulled it over his head. It really was such a shame that he had to cover up those washboard abs. Return engagements would certainly be granted if anyone asked.

"Oh no, not orange. Definitely not orange," Beau shook his head. He didn't know all that much about fashion, but he did know that he didn't like the colour orange. He pointed to the cart behind the girl and clicked his tongue. "What about- uh- the blue shirt and the black jacket?"

Like a surly teen who'd been asked to wash his pants, Beau kicked his hundreds plus dollar pair of trousers aside. June picked them up and folded them in half over the back of the changing screen. He clearly had no respect for what they did here.

"No. I don't see you in orange at all." She smiled and the words were right, but the tone was nowhere near as adoring as Miranda had been. Irritated, June set the horrid choices aside and looked for something else, something not what Beau had suggested.

"A jacket would hide your physique. I would not hide you away if it were up to me." Which, for the moment, it was.

She was going to make him truly shine just to spite him.

Beau was what the industry lovingly referred to as a whale. He was a big spender and too stupid to see when the beach was looming close. If they could curry his favor, he could prop up their business for months if they were careful. Miranda was not careful but June was able to mitigate some of that recklessness. They weren't in need of chasing the small fish, just yet, but another whale would keep them comfortably afloat.

With this in mind, June tugged Beau around to watch as she picked through the garments. She had sized him up upon arrival, but she glanced back every now and again between Beau and clothes. She spoke aloud and about him in order to keep his attention. This was a sort of test for her as well. She had to win him over and she had to talk him into liking her selection. Miranda would waltz in and take the credit as she added a belt or shoes, just like she usually did.

"Blue eyes need a complimentary color to emphasize their clarity. Yours have an unusual depth to them. Very engaging." With how adoringly he looked at himself, surely he already knew that. "Your hair has some tonality added. Lowlights? Very subtle. I will bet ze camera loves it." She took that into account.

By the end, she had arranged something passable. June guided his hand to her shoulder so that he could balance as she helped him into some pants: chinos that were a slightly greenish shade of blue almost like formal jeans. They were fitted at the ankle and that required some help at times. The fabric was sumptuous and made a delectable zipping sound as the fibers rubbed along his skin just so. She assumed that he could manage the button fly on his own.

The shirt was a supporting piece. Light grey stripes on bone white. June tugged the neck over his head and let him sort out the arms while she tugged the last piece off a hanger. She helped him shrug into a button up green shirt left open, the color too bright to be called 'army' and perfectly complementary to his skin and hair. The weave of the fabric was interesting enough that a camera would be able to tell it was interesting, but it would not be distracting.

June flipped up the sleeves once and buttoned them around Beau's biceps giving the fabric at the elbows a bunch before she turned him to see himself in the mirror.

"Caramel brown for the shoes and the belt, don't you think?"

Of course she'd been watching. June wrangled down her irritation and went to fetch the accessories that dangled from Miranda's hands.

"How do you feel about jewelry? Leather strap for a bracelet? Scarves are very 'in' right now despite the warmth." She fawned on him again and that was just fine, if annoying.

Seriously, what was the point of a privacy screen if they were all back here!?

"Mm-hmm!" Beau agreed, adding a pleased lilt to the second half of the noise. "Of course you wouldn't. I look amazing." She was right. The jacket had been a poor choice on his part. It would hide his shapely figure and prevent his adoring fans for a wonderful view. The assistant was very smart.

There was nothing that she could say that would surprise Beau at that point. He’d already heard, or at least told himself, all of the compliments that she gave. He also didn’t seem to notice her apprehension or the fact that she wasn’t fawning over him like most girls her age did.

Before he knew it, Beau had been helped into a fresh outfit. It was nothing like the one he picked out, but he had to admit that it looked good on him. He flexed his arm, admiring how the bunching accentuated (some of) his best features.

”You’re pretty good at this, you know,” he told June. He’d placed her as just the hapless assistant at first, but clearly he’d been wrong. She was good at what she did. ”How old are you, exactly? Are they paying you well for your time?”

He turned as Miranda entered the room. Abandoning the cuff that he’d been adjusting, Beau opened his arms to greet her with a wide grin. ”Miranda, you’re a genius, and you’re potentially gaining another permanent client.”

His manager would have stabbed him if she’d found out how easy to get he was playing. Beau didn’t really care, though. Somehow, the two ladies had found a way to make him look even more attractive.

”If you think we should go with a strap, then we go with a strap. At this point, my body is at your mercy.” He smoothed his shirt as his voice let the words out like butter. It definitely wasn’t his way of accentuating his chest, or anything. Not a chance.

He did another turn in the mirror for the enjoyment of all the room’s occupants and then began to speak again. ”I hope that this isn’t the only outfit I get to try,” he asked with a fake pout.

”Oh, and Miranda, love, I do hope that you’re paying your assistant enough. She’s more than just a pretty face.” He nodded toward her with another wink. ”Believe me, I know what it’s like to be underestimated because of your looks.”

June did not drink. She did not like to be divested of her faculties in any way and she was under age, after all, but after this... June now understood why some people were driven to drink.

Miranda had certainly heard Beau questioning her age and payment. That was exactly how June had gotten this job. She'd been toadying for another when Miranda made her a better offer. So while Beau's comments might get her a raise, June knew Miranda was fickle and jealous. His comments could get her blackballed from an industry she'd come to love.

Beau needed to learn when to shut his face.

June tugged at his pants a little more roughly than was necessary in order to pull and pinch the fabric to pin it. They would have the seamstresses on call hem these handsome pants to fit Beau perfectly. She gave the fabric a touch to smooth it down again, hand brushing along Beau's leg. It was a shame they were wasted on these dumb handsome legs.

Thankfully Miranda saved June the trouble of finding Mr. Bishop's next outfit while June tucked and pinned. Her boss lavished compliments just as June had. The assistant's words had been pretty, but Miranda was a true artist when it came to heaping on the bullsh**.

If there was any more adoration for Beau and how he looked right now in this room, June might just explode from the pressure of it.

"How is zat? Can you bend your knees?" She guided him into the movements that they needed to test and the it was time for Beau to strip again so that they could start the entire process over.

"For this gala," Miranda tapped the event notes, "I would love to create something truly original. Do you have a date for the event? Model name? Dress size? We'll need to coordinate."

"Excuse you," Beau muttered as he sucked in air. A pin had just scraped down his leg, dangerously close to some more important parts. He eyed the girl with a slightly miffed expression. It had probably been an accident, he figured, so he didn't say anything. Besides, she was already back to fondling his legs carefully. Definitely an accident.

At the question of whether he could bend his legs, Beau lunged forward and stretched his back leg out. "Sure can," he grinned. He admired himself in the mirror as he did so.

Damn, he smirked silently to himself, you look good.

Standing back up straight, he glanced back at Miranda with a shrug. "I'll probably be going with Allison Raymond, my costar," he said distractedly. It was good publicity when single actors attended together, and Beau hadn't held a long-term relationship in some time. Plus, latest he'd heard, Allison was also single. "I doubt she lets herself get any fatter than a size 4, or something." Actresses rarely did.

"Of course," Miranda cooed, "you'll look lovely together."

He did another turn in the mirror and then stepped off the little podium. He toyed a little with the sleeves of his shirt and then let his arms fall to his sides. 

"What's next? More outfits, or are we planning this gala outfit?"

"Mon choupinou, I could put you in and out of your clothes all day, if you like. Let's try at least one more for a more mundane event while we talk gala."

June had to purse her lips to keep herself from doing a spit take with clothing pins in her mouth. My cabbage? It was perfect! She was instantaneously mad that she had not thought of it. If anyone was deserving of the endearment whose closest American equivalent was 'punkin' it was Beau.

She helped Beau shimmy out of his clothes while keeping the pins in place. It took more help getting out of them so their dance was more... personal. June kept her eyes on exactly nothing important, though they may have strayed once to the abdominal area.

'Wow.' June nearly lost the pins in her mouth again as she'd mouthed the word. No! Mon chouchou was not worthy of her oggle!

"Allison Raymond..." Miranda mused. She typed the name into her tablet, not because she didn't already know what the girl looked like, but because she knew that she could find the girl's height and coloring.

June set the pinned items aside with extreme care and went to pull the next outfit that Miranda had put together. This one more was only slightly more formal. Ripped jeans, a heathered shirt that would cling, and a jacket specifically tailored so that it would never shut in front.

"Female actors are so short! June, how tall are you?"

"165 centimètres."

"Zat's not too far from Ms. Raymond. Stand up tall next to monsieur Beau." She had to abandon helping guide Beau's hand through the long, clingy sleeve, but she obeyed. Miranda was a very visual kind of person.

"Will zere be dancing?" She used a stylus to draw on the tablet as she peppered Beau with a few questions. Not too many, though. She knew he wouldn't know much. The talentos never did.

Beau knew exactly when he was being ogled. He used to joke that if he didn’t know that he was an adapted, he would have dubbed it his mutation. So when the assistant girl glanced at his chest, he knew. He may not have been looking at her, but he knew.

His ego grew another size.

He lost the hand that was helping to guide his arm through his sleeve, but he was fully capable of putting on a shirt alone. He may have been slightly deficient of brain cells, but he could still dress himself.

June stood next to him so that Miranda could get an estimation of height, so he stood up straight like he did when posing for pictures so that she could get the full picture. A large height gap - the ideal sizing for the “perfect couple”.

“Dunno,” Beau shrugged. ”I think it’s more of a pose for picture kinda thing, but I’m not sure. My manager booked it.”