death incarnate & night triumphant

It hadn't come as that big of a surprise when Troy had asked him to help pick out an outfit for the wedding, the Fae was always dressed nicely. Though, Andras did have other clothes within that wardrobe, he merely wore them in the privacy of the lodge when no one was around, with maybe the exception of Ida. She was the closest thing she had to family that still lived, the ancient Fae woman, much older than Andras, had taken on the role of a housemaid. Despite his objections, she insisted it was good for her. The male could never argue with the woman and simply conceded to her wishes. He's brought out of his thoughts the moment Troy rounds the corner, his grin matching the one Troy offers as they extend hands and clasp each other firmly. Releasing his hand, Andras casually slides his hands back into his pocket as they mingle briefly outside of the high end store, Andras offering a slight shrug, "It's not a problem, anything to make Amelia happy, right?" He asks, a knowing glint in his eye just as Troy waves a hand in his general direction.

A sly smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, "Don't forget I look positively dashing in it too," he chuckles with those dark baritones as he runs his hazel eyes over Troy, as if he were inspecting him in an over exaggerated way. Clucking his tongue as if in disappointment, he always a sigh to leave his lips, "No promises but I can get you cleaned up at the very least," he teases before turning and clasping a large palm on Troy's shoulder in a, 'start preparing yourself for a long afternoon ahead', before dropping his hand and reaching for the door. Gesturing for Troy to enter the the shop. It's an open concept, manikins lining the walls that are impeccably dressed and no extra folded clothing on the shelves or hanging on hangers. It was how you knew it was a more high end establishment, all the clothing was made to order, these were simply different styles and colors. Andras hadn't been to this particular shop in a long time, the Fae having his new suits made and sent to him rather than having to pick them up.

An excited gasp causes Andras to turn his head towards the back of the store, a man with a scarf wrapped around his neck, his glasses hanging onto the tip of his nose, gray speckling his short hair as he all but sprints around the corner and slides to a stop in front of the two Fae. A warm smile stretches on Andras's lips as he dips his head in greeting, "Hello Jonathon, it's been awhile," he states as the, very human, man settles a hand on his hip and juts it out in a rather flamboyant gesture, "I have everything made on time but you never stop by anymore!" he complains, his lower lip forming into a pout. Laughing, "I've been a bit busy, I apologize. But today I'm not here for me, my friend, Troy, is getting married," he explains, gesturing with a large hand to Troy standing at his side. Jonathon's gaze snaps towards the other man, his eyes sharp as he inspects the faerie, going as far as to step forward and circling Troy as if the tailor were a shark and Troy was prey. And in a sense... the analogy was correct. Jonathon was brutal when it came to dressing and the creation of suits, he wouldn't hesitate to eat someone alive with his incredibly opinionated mind.

Andras takes a few steps back to allow the human to inspect his friend, laughing silently to himself, knowing full well what he had just subjected Troy to. Though, he rather liked Jonathon, he was probably the only human in centuries that had impressed him with his tailoring skills, if he were to be granted immortality in one way or another, he would simply hone that craft, surely to become the best tailor in the world and remain there until he faded. There's a bought of silence before Jonathon comes to a stop, a hand thoughtfully placed on his chin as he looks up at Troy, pulling the glasses off to hang them at his neck, "You have a splendid figure, I don't know why you dress in these rags," he sniffs disdainfully before continuing, "What colors has your darling fiancée picked out?" He asks distractedly before he turns on a heel and begins to gather several manikins, pulling them towards a corner with floor to ceiling mirrors, a changing room off to the side. "Well? Chop, chop!" he exclaims, clapping his hands together in a dramatic way, gesturing the two men towards the corner.

Andras is the first to move, his graceful stroll ending himself on the far side of the mirrors, the man turning back to Troy, "I never told you I dressed myself," he winks casually, amusement glinting in those dark hazel eyes.

Andras Steinhello darling