It had been two months. Two months, and finances were wearing thin. Two months of sporadic ventures beyond the walls of Devon's apartment complex. Necessity was propelling Jack back into the working world. She was strapped for cash, going stir crazy, and ready-ish to rebuild. Murmurs of the explosion that'd rocked her old apartment complex had been overshadowed by different stories and altogether faded from the news. That's how it was in New York. A near constant stream of mutant-related tragedies. A mysterious explosion and a coldcase homicide of some mutant crustacean in her own home. Apparently the man Jack had killed had, much like his twin, never been found.

The first step towards normalcy was asking Devon for her old position, which her dear friend freely gave.

This meant, however, replacing the dress clothes that'd been lost after her "death".

Replacing dress clothes meant paying Javier a visit.

You see, in addition to being a unique individual, Jack's measurements meant that she was a regular at the tailor's. She was tall, covered in spines at most of her joints, broad-shouldered but narrow in the waist and hips, and let's not forget that her forearms were colossal. So unless her clothes were sleeveless or short-sleeve knits, nearly all of her clothes needed taking-in at some spots, and letting-out in others.

Had Jack been wiser, she would have gone to a different tailor-- in the off chance that Javier heard of her death, this would be a cosmic mess-up on her part. Part of Jack just craved something familiar. It was thus that Jack pushed through the familiar front door of the alterations shop, a tinkling bell announcing her arrival. Jack sighed, exhaling a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. A garment bag was draped over her arm.

The prawn shuffled to the unoccupied front desk, and gently rang the service bell.

"Ja'i," she greeted, "You in?"

The door opened and the ball rang. Javier was in the back of the shop, laying out patterns, but he paused when he noticed he had a costumer. Pinning an important piece quickly into place, the set the tools down and walked to the front of the shop.

>>"Ja'i. You in?"

"Jack!" the tailor's eyes lit up when he saw the shrimp mutant. She had been to his shop before, and honestly, her custom clothing had been one of his favorite projects so far. Both fashionable and useful, and tailored to a... um, very unusual body type. Besides, Jack was polite and friendly, and did not seem to get hung up much on his occasional awkwardness.

"I haven't seen you for ages! How have you been?"

The prawn smiled genially with her eyes when the familiar form of her Latino tailor filled the doorway. He was a nice guy—nervous and bumbling at times, sure, but a lot of people were nervous and bumbling around Jack—and the fact that he treated Jack with the same respect as anyone else greatly overshadowed that.

“Ja’i,” Jack reiterated placidly, nodding her head, “Good to see you.”

In the prawn’s humble opinion, the only downfall of her friend was that he had a “v” smack-dab in the middle of his name. But he never raised issue with her impediment. The prawn meandered towards the counter, leaning her elbows onto it casually.

>> "I haven't seen you for ages! How have you been?"

“Eeehhh,” the prawn sighed noncommittally. Her gaze cut sideways. It’d been the better part of two months since they’d seen each other, and so much had happened.

“Real crazy deez last see-ew nun-ce,” the prawn remarked, some tension creeping into her tone, “Lost ny a’art-nent… s’lit wiss ny girls’riend. ‘een really russ.”

Neither of these were a lie—Jack just left out the parts about “losing an apartment” because she had blown it up… and “splitting with her girlfriend” because she was supposed to be dead, had killed a man, and was potentially a wanted woman. You know, tiny details.

“Sings are looking utt, doh,” the prawn quickly added, flapping her hand, “How you? Shot doing well? Dating?”

Jack’s tone adopted something mischievous with the applications. Although (or perhaps because of) the good terms that they were on, Jack sometimes liked to tease the young tailor. Something was just so profoundly amusing about making the little guy squirm.

Javier glad to see Jack again. She was good company, and despite the occasional teasing, she was very patient with his quirks. They got along, in the time they spent together, which was a strange mix between mutual understanding and work. He realized that he had not seen her for months, though.

>>“Eeehhh... Real crazy deez last see-ew nun-ce. Lost ny a’art-nent… s’lit wiss ny girls’riend. ‘een really russ.”

Javier suddenly felt a flood of guilt over not checking on Jack sooner. Not that they hung out much or anything, but still, it was awkward for someone to break so many bad news that happened without the other's knowledge...

"Oh god, Jack. I'm sorry to hear that..."

What was he supposed to do after this? Offer her a seat? Tea? Alcohol? Shoulder to cry on?...

>>“Sings are looking utt, doh. How you? Shot doing well? Dating?”

Javier blushed a little, both glad at the change of topic, and embarrassed that he was glad for the change of topic.

"No, not dating" he sighed "But the shop is doing well. And people in the neighborhood are nice. I feel like I'm part of the community, you know?..."

It was nice to be settled, and less stressed than he had been in college.

"So... is there anything I can do for you?..."

The prawn shrugged, smiling with her eyes. When she explained her string of bad luck like that, and conveniently left the involuntary manslaughter out, it almost sounded like a string of bad luck that could've befallen anyone. It almost sounded normal.

"Glad it's working out," the prawn answered, still smiling. When asked what had truly brought here, Jack grunted an affirmative, and delicately draped the garment bag over the counter.

"New suits sore work," she explained, "Dey need duh usual nits and tucks."

It was hard to make small talk, even with friends. Javier was not sure what to say to all that Jack had been through recently. It was a strange thing, when one was close enough to someone to actually care about their struggles, but not close enough to be able to discuss them without feeling like he was overstepping. So, Javier resorted to the only way he knew how to help - by doing his job.

Jack put a garment bag on the counter.

>>"New suits sore work. Dey need duh usual nits and tucks."

"Sure thing." Javier smiled. That, he could do. Jack had a good taste in suits, and she looked great in them, once they were properly adjusted to her dimensions. "Come on, if you put them on I'll see what needs to be done. We should probably double check your dimensions anyway, in case... you put on muscle, or something." He was not sure how growth worked for Jack. Or weight loss. A lot of people lost weight while struggling with their life...

>> "Sure thing. Come on, if you put them on I'll see what needs to be done. We should probably double check your dimensions anyway, in case... you put on muscle, or something."

The prawn grunted an affirmative, trekking towards the familiar changing room at the corner of the shop. Her messenger bag was deposited, the garment bag hung on the hook and unzipped. Like that, Jack began shearing her clothes, first the pants, which were pooled on the floor-- then the shirt, which was lifted haphazardly over her head. She towered over the top of the door, but Jack didn't cower away from the gap between the top beam of the stall and the top of the door. She wasn't built like other ladies, so it didn't really matter. Once free, Jack began the delicate process of sliding into the new suit. The pants were the easiest part, for they hung loosely off her frame. She couldn't put on the shirt or the suit coat, however, because her forearms were too large. Javier knew this.

Jack shuffled back out of the changing room, the shirt draped around her shoulders and unbuttoned, the coat draped over her arms. One primary hand clutched at the band of the suit pants, keeping them from pooling around her ankles (which was a distinct possibility, if she let go).

The prawn made her way back to her friend, unabashed. This was how Jack imagined normal people felt when they went to the doctors. Any partial nudity was strictly for business purposes. And thus no nervous tics ventured into Jack's secondary arms-- this was strictly business, and Javier was a friend.

"You know how shirts are," she grumbled, shrugging her shoulders beneath the shirt-cape.

Jack knew her way around the small shop. She went to change out of her outfit, and into the clothes that she had brought and that clearly needed some adjustments. Javier kept a polite distance, pretending to be busy with straightening up the work space while she changed behind the door that did not quite cover everything. She was not bashful, and given her unique physique, at least it was less embarrassing to be in a small space with her than it would have been with a non-mutant woman.

>>"You know how shirts are,"

"Let's look at the pants first." Javier suggested. He did not need to ask her to stand on the little podium; she was tall enough. Javier grabbed pins and the measuring tape, and began to see what he could do to make the pants fit better. "So... is this a new job? Or going back to the old place?"

The prawn peered down her nose-ridge at Javier, who was much smaller than the woman and hastily going to work. Although any accidental pokes from a pin would be of little consequence, Jack still stayed very still. If for no other reason than for making Javier's job a little easier.

>> "Let's look at the pants first. So... is this a new job? Or going back to the old place?"

Jack couldn't honestly recall if she'd told Javier about her gig at Inferno. She wasn't socially minded and couldn't keep track of who she'd told which information to.

“Well, I nean, I got dat nanegerial gig now, quit Chrysalis,” the prawn explained. She chuckled, her tone drifting towards deprecation, “Getting too old to 'e s’rowing guys around.”

Now there was also the off chance of blowing people up, if she threw a punch. Even more of a reason to leave bouncing for good.

"Should drott in sun tine. I'll get ya a drink on duh house."

Javier worked on the pants. They were a little loose, but not hard to fit, and he had worked with Jack enough to know how things stood best on her. He pinned here and there, and listened to what she was saying about the job she was suiting up for.

>>“Well, I nean, I got dat nanegerial gig now, quit Chrysalis. Getting too old to 'e s’rowing guys around.”

Javier chuckled at that. He probably would have been good at throwing guys around. If he really put his mind to it. Which he was not going to do, because he did not like the idea. He could understand why Jack would move on to management.

"You're gonna be a serious businesswoman eventually" he smiled. Businessperson? Businessprawn? Was there a technical term?

>>"Should drott in sun tine. I'll get ya a drink on duh house."

"What is this new place like?" Javier asked, moving on to the shirt. He was curious what kind of a place Jack was going to be managing. If she vouched for it, it had to be worth her time...

Jack groaned at the businesswoman comment, closing her eyes as if the very thought of it gave her a headache. It kind of did, to be entirely honest. Jack continued to watch Javier work. Once the pants seemed to be pinned to his liking, he moved-on to the shirt, which enabled the young woman to look at his face rather than the crown of his head. Jack bent her knees slightly, to help the shirt be more reachable.

"Swanky 'lace," the prawn said sincerely, "Exclusi'e. Really chill. Li'e nyu-sic. Usually an in'ite only sorta 'lace..." The kind of place that didn't have much trouble, ever, and wasn't packed to the gills with people or thrumming with music.

"Wouldn't 'e any trou'le," Jack assured her diminutive friend, "Since I'n in'iting you."

Javier could tell that he would not be able to fit Jack's arms in the shirt sleeves unless he cut them up and re-did the whole thing. As usual. Shirts looked good on Jack when properly tailored, usually showing off her lower arms in their colors, but it was a pain to take them apart and put them back together to reach the right result, and make sure she could put them on and take them off without trouble.

>>"Swanky 'lace. Exclusi'e. Really chill. Li'e nyu-sic. Usually an in'ite only sorta 'lace..."

"Hah. Sounds fancy." Javier smirked. He was glad Jack found work at a place like that; at the same time, it sounded like just the place that would put him permanently on edge for fear of doing something embarrassing.

>>"Wouldn't 'e any trou'le. Since I'n in'iting you."

"Not sure if I could mingle well" Javi admitted with a smirk. They were on good enough terms with Jack that he could talk about his anxieties without feeling put on the spot. "Fancy places make me feel like everyone is secretly laughing at me..."

Jack nodded, confirming that her place of business was, indeed, fancy. When Javier voiced his concerns, though, Jack gave a disappointed trill.

"Iss any-un gaze you a hard tine, I'd kick 'n out," the prawn asserted, "E'en looked at ya weird, gone."

She was the manager. She had that kind of power. But Jack didn't push the issue. Javier was pinning the waistband of her pants, and it wouldn't be fair to try dragging him out of his comfort zone while he was working.

"You jus' let 'e know iss you change your nine-d," the prawn said, "Jus' call nee u', and drinks are on nee."

And that was where she left it. Alternatively, they could just hangout some time. But Jack's apartment was too spare to have company. She was still saving up to refurnish her place.

Javier did not mind telling Jack that fancy places made him uncomfortable. They knew each other enough, and besides, Jack had always been friendly and understanding. She had her own issues to deal with, and that made her empathic to other people as well. To Javier, anyway. He tried to return the favor by not overwhelming her with whining, and making sure that the clothes he made for her were all excellent. It was the least he could do.

>>"Iss any-un gaze you a hard tine, I'd kick 'n out. E'en looked at ya weird, gone."

Javier chuckled. He knew she meant it. She was the kind of person that would do it, even if it got her into trouble on the long run.

>>"You jus' let 'e know iss you change your nine-d. Jus' call nee u', and drinks are on nee."

"I'll consider it. Thank you." Javier nodded, going on with his work, and with his thought process and give and take "So... do you want to talk about what happened with your girlfriend? You don't have to..."

Status meant nothing to the prawn. Loyalty, however, meant everything. Jack gave her own, pleased chirr when Javier laughed at her declaration. He was a nice guy. If Jack was straight, she'd almost consider dating him. He was that nice of a guy.

>> "Do you want to talk about what happened with your girlfriend? You don't have to..."

Jack feigned exasperation, and gave a teasing, "Ugh, relationshi' talk? Dude, you're killin' nee."

She ran a primary hand over her antennas, breathing a sigh. There wasn't really a euphemism for "I killed a man and pulled a disappearing act, so that she didn't get involved".

"Just... didn't 'ork out," the prawn explained, giving a shrug, "Gettin' in sights, all dat. Nei'er uzz us 'ere ha'y, so 'e called it oss."

That was a good reason to call a relationship off. Well, so was "my punches make things go boom, and I accidentally made a man go boom", but the reason she actually gave didn't involve... breaking the law.

"'s a dan shane," the prawn breathed, "Was kinda nice has-ing sun-one around." You know... someone who loved you despite, or perhaps because of, who you were.