Now, that was easy. Sasha slowly drifted into the shop after Alice, like a shadowy afterthought to her serious, if reluctant professionalism. The dim illumination from the streetlights outside was briefly eclipsed by his lengthy silhouette, snuffing out the golden starlight of dimly glittering knicknacks within. His oppressing shadow was lifted when Alice switched on the lights, bringing life once again to quaint little tailor shop, which had been closed up only moments ago.
 
Sasha shut the door behind him, but it failed to latch, and so swung slightly open. He stared at it for a moment, considering the damage he’d wrought, and wondered whether he felt guilty.
 
“Thank you, truly, for going out of your way.” He drifted toward this year’s display of autumn fashioned, and took a sleeve of a coat in his hand. The material was coarse, yet yielding, beneath the experimental stroke of his thumb. “You have no idea how important this is to me.”
 
In a fit of whimsy, Sasha looked down at himself, comparing his own attire to what hung on the rack. He looked about twenty years out of date, if he could gauge correctly. But who could keep up with these things? And sometimes being out of fashion [i]was[/i] in fashion, though he’d be the last person to ask.

Dropping the sleeve, and dusting his hand on his coat, he then drifted toward the counter and picked up one of the business cards. There was something poetically appropriate about the name, although thus far Alice seemed to be a far cry from the Alasdair whom Sasha once knew. His thumbnail ran over the shop’s hours. Closed at six-thirty, yet here she was.

What was so lacking in this girl’s life that she would be [i]here[/i], instead of out with friends like anyone else her age would be?

She offered to take his measurements. 
 
Sasha raised his eyebrows, then lifted his head toward Alice. A fitting? He’d come to get his coat mended, not taken in.
 
“Now that you mention it.” He set the card neatly back with its brethren. “I think that would be a fine idea. It seems more likely than not that I’ll be back here for other things. My wardrobe could use a bit of an update.”
 
So with that, he began to slip off his long coat, shedding some volume from his tall frame and revealing more of his thin, buttoned shirt. He wasn’t much less broad without the coat. ‘Trim’ would suit. 
 
“Irish, isn’t it?” The coat was set upon the counter, and he prepared to lift his arms so Alice could get to work. “Your accent. Not from around here, I take it?”