Em sends a short recorded message to the professor: Meet me at the corner of Alaskan and Pine, outside the diner tomorrow at 10am. When they meet there, Em says to the Professor: “Listen..you’re obviously incredibly smart, and want to do the right thing, but… honestly… people aren’t going to take you seriously if you keep… looking the way you do. We won’t get the good jobs, you won’t have a chance to really make a difference. So I want to buy you a new jacket. You can wear all the same shit under it, but just… maybe we can do something with this tweed.” – and as she says this, she lightly picks at the Professor’s sleeve. “I know someone who would make the perfect outfit for you.”
…
Em takes them to a nondescript low rise two blocks south, with no markings or signage out front. They enter: the hallway was trendy once, many decades ago. Though worn down and obviously old, it is incredibly clean. They take the elevator up to the third floor where they stand outside a locked door. During the short ride, Em tells the Professor, “We’re meeting someone very dear and very important to me. His name is Alphonse. Don’t call him Al.”

They ring the doorbell and a video camera buzzes to life, facing them. Em smiles and waves, “Al, it’s me!” The door clicks and slowly swings open, revealing an open, bright room, four large working tables with various yards of fabric and other materials strewn across them, with an individual at each table, each in different stages of working on a piece of clothing. They all smile and wave at Em but nobody stops working. A burly well-muscled man with salt and pepper hair, clean shaven, dressed in a fitted black tshirt and black pants, with a big grin, arms outstretched, bellows, “MILES!” and walks purposefully towards them from a room in the back. Em returns the bellow, “AL!” and jogs towards him, letting herself be crushed in a bear hug by this huge man who she can barely get her arms around.

He breaks the hug to hold her by the shoulders and says, with pretend sternness, “Don’t call me Al” Em laughs and replies “Don’t call me Miles!” Alphonse lets go of her, the laugh fading into a fatherly smile. “You never call anymore Miles. I worry about you.” “Oh Al, there’s no need to worry. Things are going so great, that fashion show you got us tickets to, that was something else. I have some videos I took to show you. First, let me introduce you to the Professor though”, gesturing to The Professor who has been standing by the door, patiently – awkwardly – waiting. “Oh wow, a professor! What’s he a professor of?” “Uh… Classics.” “Oh well that explains the bow tie I guess”, and Alphonse walks over to the Professor and warmly shakes his hand.

So you’re here to pick up your suit and that coat you dropped off a little while ago?”, Alphonse asks.

“Yes, but I was also hoping you could help us out here…” Gesturing to the Professor.

“Nothing major, just something that doesn’t scream ‘Classics professor’. Something that’ll look good in a mega corp meeting. Also, for an academic, he gets into a fair few fights so maybe you could build in some protection as well?”

Alphonse looks the Professor up and down. “…. Ok.so we’re sticking with this Classics professor thing, eh?… Ok. I’ve got some ideas. I’ll get Helga to take his measurements and I can show you the coat. Which I have some questions about by the way.”

Saying this, he beckons over a young female elf who is working at the nearest table, dressed in a black tshirt and black skirt, whispers something in her ear, to which she nods, and smiling, ushers the Professor over to her table. She starts measuring his upper body and making notes in a little pink notebook.

Alphonse walks Em over to the back room he’d walked out of and pulls out Stafford’s coat that he wore to the fashion show, along with her suit, that she’d brought in a few weeks ago to get all the blood out and bullet holes sewed up.

Alphonse’s voice gets hard: “Do I want to know why these were covered in blood? I saw the stories about a shoot-out at the show.”

“Al, it’s fine. Really. We were just caught in the shoot out, it was crazy. It wasn’t even my blood.”

“Right. Listen, when your dad-“

Em cuts him off abruptly, angry but hushed – “Al, I love you, but don’t.” Seeing the look on his face, she softens her tone, “Seriously. There’s nothing you need to worry about.” 

He smiles sadly and changes his tone to one more jovial, but obviously forced: “Ok fine. I won’t ask about the blood but… This is a male ork’s coat.”

“Yes… and?”

“Why do you care what happens to a male ork’s coat?”

“Uh, I don’t.”

“Then why did I spend all that time cleaning it and patching it up and sewing those shock resistors in?”

“Because he’s someone I’m working with and its in my best interest that he doesn’t get fucked up. Like the Professor.”

“Listen, I get it with the Professor, you can’t go to any of the megas with him in that frakking tweed disaster… but this is very clearly not that. So why don’t you cut the bullshit.”

“Look, he’s helping me with my bike so I just want to thank him, okay? Is that okay?”

Al puts up his hands in a conciliatory gesture, with a big smile, “Of course it’s okay. It’s just nice…”

“What’s nice?”

“That you seem to have people in your life you want to be around, ok? Let’s just leave it at that.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about, you’re being extra ridiculous today. Do you want to see the footage from the show, or do you want to keep being weird?”

“Let’s see the footage,” Alphonse says as he comes around and puts an arm across Em’s shoulder and looks down at her tablet.