Chapter Text
Wednesday, October 20 (Pt. 2)
Black Lane is a district located south-east of downtown, in the Boundary Markets of Zaun. The Boundary Markets are the most cosmopolitan part of the city — as they are the part of Zaun that sits closest to Piltover — sharing many of the larger, more modern city’s unique infrastructures while still maintaining the vibrancy of Zaunite culture. It is also one of the more popular destinations in Zaun, so it‘s often filled with colorful tourists who are coming to visit the shops that are nestled around the bustling business centers.
The Black Lane district is old, so parking options are horrendously insufficient, but Jinx is a self-proclaimed pro at navigating the area so she confidently directs you to one of the many, miniscule parking lots that litter the area. After paying the attendant an exorbitant fee you hike a few blocks to Old Hungry, which happens to be a square brick building that’s only large enough to hold a kitchen.
After ordering, you and Jinx settle into one of the few open tables on the patio.
“Okay so first I wanna take you to this cool thrift place after we drop off Silco’s pres. It’s in this old warehouse that used to house a cult where everybody killed themselves as part of a death pact.”
“Oh. Wow.”
“I know, so crazy right? They turned the suicide room into the stock room, but apparently it’s haunted so they close early and never stay late at night."
"That sounds reasonable."
“Yeah. I've been thinking about breaking in tonight and seeing if my ghost want to have a pow wow with their ghosts. You know, for funsies.”
You attempt to hide your genuine alarm with dry humor. "Or you could have way more fun and stay at my house instead."
"Really?"
The invitation had been a whim, but based on the spark of hope in her eye it was obviously a good one. "Yeah, you and your ghosts could pow wow with me, my sister, and my cats. We have more movies, games, and snacks than any of us can handle. Ghosts included."
"Are you serious?"
"Absolutely."
"Omg, this is the best day ever!"
You laugh as her words are suddenly overrun with shivers.
“Come here,” You scoot over to pat the spot next to you. “We can share body heat while we wait.”
She happily obliges, and you catch the vibrant scent of spiced vanilla and peppermint as she huddles against your side. You link your arm through hers, and in a surprising move she puts her head on your shoulder.
“You smell nice," She says.
“Thanks. I put on lavender and eucalyptus essential oil this morning.”
“Solid. It really matches your whole vibe.”
“I didn’t realize I had a vibe,” You say.
“Sure. You’re super chill, laid back, and natural. Also super healing, which I love for us.”
“Healing. I can live with that.”
“I feel like if you wore more color, though, it would raise those good vibrations even higher.”
You grin down at her colorful head of hair, and notice that her roots have grown out, showing a faint skunk stripe of dirty blonde.
“I guess I wouldn’t mind wearing more color, I just naturally pick out neutrals when I shop because they go with everything.”
“Which is very practical, and very you,” She quips. “Please don’t take this the wrong way because I know you know that I love you, but like… your style is just a smidge boring and forgettable, if you know what I mean.”
For a moment you consider whether you want to feel butt hurt by this observation.
Nope, you don’t.
Besides, you want to be woman enough to admit she’s right.
You bob your head in acceptance. “You’re not wrong.”
“But I mean I’ve seen most of your wardrobe by now, and I think we can work with what you’ve got.”
“That’s good.”
“It definitely is! You’re 80% on your way to being like, an actual icon. I’m thinking all you need are some signature pieces that will wrap it all together and make people instantly recognize you when you walk into the room. Some real show stoppers, like shoes or hats, or coats for instance.”
“Never underestimate the power of a good coat.”
“I know, right? I mean let’s get real, dad’s standard drip is boring, forgettable business man, and the only thing that makes him look so gosh darn impressive is his choice of statement pieces. I mean the man really knows how to pick a coat, you know what I mean?”
You think of how the video of Silco in his gold trimmed overcoat had held you in such a chokehold, and hold back a wistful sigh.
“Yeah.”
“So that’s my angle! We need to find you something that will uplevel your whole look.”
“I can get behind that.”
“Well you better get behind it soon because it’s happening. Today. Also I was thinking we could maybe like, cut and color your hair too."
"Were you?" You answer in amusement.
"Yeah, because hair is such an under appreciated yet key factor in fashion. I mean think about it. It's the one thing about you that you can't change all the time... well, unless you have lots of wigs, but you get me, right? So it has to stand out and make a statement on it's own.”
"No, you’re right! I’ve actually been thinking about getting a haircut for a while. I just don’t know what I would even want.”
Her head lifts off your shoulder and her eyes shine as she clasps her hands. “We could totally figure that out tonight! My pinterest board is chock full of insane haircuts that I think would be amazing on you.”
"Okay, that sounds like fun."
"Yay!"
If her eyes were shining any more brilliantly, you’d need sunglasses.
You stifle a grin. “Allie would love to be your co-conspirator on this too. She's been itching to get me to change my hair for ages."
"I'm so excited. I can't believe I'm going to finally meet the woman who fell in love with a stick in the mud like Marcus.”
“Don’t hold that against her. I think you and her are going to get along swimmingly.”
You spend the next fifteen minutes discussing the evening and texting family members to inform them of your plans. To your sister, you give her a heads up about the company, and she’s just as on board as Jinx.
“I can already tell this is going to be a hella good night. I’ll buy some snacks on my way home from the shop!”
Silco responds to your text with a simple, “Thank you for informing me.”
Once your order is called, you take a sufficient amount of time to appreciate the heavenly order of loaded fries (which you both inhale at a dangerously fast rate, especially considering how hot they are), before hiking back to the car and heading to Commercia Fantastica.
The shop at least has a private lot, and you and Jinx decide to leave the gramophone in the car until you’re sure the owner will take it.
The place is a modest size, with the name emblazoned on the front window in swooping black and gold letters. The window display is stacked with antique and vintage items of all shapes and sizes. Porcelain dolls and marionettes stare blankly down from a high shelf lined with curios, toys, and tattered books. Obscure mechanical trinkets and musical instruments sit front and center in the place of honor.
An actual bell jingles on the door when you push inside, and a man wearing a strange ocular device is hunched behind the register. His features are small and pinched, rather like a mole, an impression further cemented when he removes the glasses and squints back and forth between you and Jinx, blinking rapidly.
Jinx wanders away almost immediately, but the man eventually appears to recognize her, and his smile blooms.
“Well now,” Is all he says, putting his hands on his ample hips.
“Hello,” You say after an awkward pause.
He looks at you expectantly, and you stumble around to explain your mission as delicately as possible. You indicate that the instrument belongs to Jinx's father, and thankfully the man appears to appreciate the urgency of the mission without you needing to spell it out for him. He claims to be honored to be chosen to look at the gramophone, and when you take him outback to look at the music box, an admiring glint enters his eye.
“Oh, she’s a real beauty, she is.”
He goes on to explain that it’s a very old, very classic model that is rarely seen on the market these days as it’s often purchased by collectors.
“When do you need it by?” He asks, running stubby fingers over the horn.
“Friday night at the latest,” You reply. “If that’s even possible.”
“Oh anything’s possible if you know the right people,” He says with a squinting grin, “I’m sure my contacts in the industry will have no problem sniffing out the right part. Though it could be pricey.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“Well now."
He seems thoroughly delighted at the prospect of tinkering around with the gramophone.
You help him carry it through the backdoor of the shop, which he locks immediately with an old fashioned looking key. You enter into the area that looks like the place he does repairs, which is littered with disemboweled instruments and strange looking tools. You have to push aside the junk in order to make room for the gramophone. He then takes a moment to scribble something on a piece of paper, and takes you back into the shop.
While he fills out a form you wander a little, taking note of a record collection in the back corner of the room, and a few interesting things in a cluttered glass cabinet. Eventually he calls you over to have you fill out your contact information, and says he’ll call you with a quote by the end of the day.
You leave with a sense of deep-seated accomplishment.
Phase two of your plan is complete, with phase three well underway.
“Okay so the thrift shop is just around the corner,” Jinx claims, “But don’t let the outside appearance fool you. This place is where I get all my coolest gear.”
You follow her to a decrepit warehouse several streets over, where a faded sign above the front entrance reads: First Assemblage of the Glorious Evolved , and it definitely gives you “ex-death pact cult meeting house” vibes. However, it’s clear they took great pains to make it appealing on the inside. The low, squat building is filled with rows upon rows of racked clothing, hedged with enormous bins of accessories. You rarely thrift, so the sheer size and disorganization of the place is overwhelming. Not to mention the clientele, who are predominantly hip, cool, or just plain intimidating.
“Where do we even start?”
You have to shuffle sideways to follow Jinx between a shirt rack and a rather buff armed girl in a beanie, who’s leaning over the jewelry counter.
“Coats,” She says with confidence. “I was thinking it over, and I realized that you definitely need to get on dad's level with your outerwear. That way you guys can form a united front once you’re officially a thing. You’ll be the cool cop to his scary cop routine.”
“Right. Great.”
She leads you to the requisite racks and declares a free for all, telling you to work your way from the left while she goes at it from the right. You obey with your mind only partially on the task.
Officially a thing.
So even Jinx doesn't think it's official, even though it's been declared as much by her father.
You heave a sigh.
You thought clearing up the unspoken thing with Silco would feel different. Complete, maybe. That you’d be totally secure once he said you were together, and that you’d quickly learn how to navigate having a private, mostly-a-secret romance.
Turns out your relationship feels more like a concept than a reality.
It’s not that you aren’t being realistic. Nothing is as cut and dried as you wish it was, and this being together but not together thing is way trickier to emotionally navigate than you'd imagined. You’re desperate to go deeper, get to know him as more than just your sexy boss turned ….
What, lover?
Hardly.
He may be an excellent kisser with expertly wandering hands, but so far that’s all. Granted you haven’t been official for long, but you can't help being greedy for more. More conversations, more embraces, more time, more sacred laughter barked between crooked, gap-toothed smiles.
In short, you want more of him.
But vulnerability isn’t a part of his family culture like it is yours. You'd known that going in, but one of the unintended consequences of growing up with a therapist as a mother is that you’re impatient with the process. The pace of your progress is pretty impressive, considering who you're dealing with. Realistically it’ll take time for him to open up, let alone be vulnerable to the degree you’re used to, and expect, from anyone in your circle.
But he's worth the wait .
Who cares if he keeps holding back? That means it’ll be all the more satisfying when he finally lets go. So what if he constantly checks his conduct when you’re alone, and carefully chooses all his words? That will make it all the more deliciously sweet when he drops those habits and throws his inhibitions to the wind.
Though to be fair to yourself, he’s not the only problem in the way of taking this thing to another level. You’re not naturally the physically affectionate type, and you’ve been perfectly content with what you have going on: stolen kisses and sudden sessions of flirtatious and witty banter. Despite the misery of the prolonged unspoken thing, you’ve secretly thrived on the sexual tension built between the two of you over the last few weeks.
But let’s be honest, here. Weren’t you the one spouting objections yesterday, when he suggested taking fifteen more minutes?
If you hadn’t, who knows where you might have ended up?
You know exactly where you would have ended up, and it isn’t exactly the highway to heaven.
“Okay toots, I see you!”
The girl bumps your shoulder, and you shake off your fantasy with a sense of horrified guilt.
Your cheeks burn as you stammer out, “What?”
“That coat. You’ve been staring at it for the last two minutes and it’s like, totally you but on an existential level.”
You blink in surprise at the piece of clothing in your hand, and realize with some surprise that you do like it. It stops at the natural waist, and is mostly neutral with a pop of color. It’s not anything like the coats Silco wears, but you can imagine how starkly impressive you’d look standing next to him in this, the light to his darkness.
You aren’t sure if you're holding onto it because your subconscious was hard at work, or if it just happened to be the jacket you were flipping past when you started daydreaming about Silco.
Either way, you pull it off the rack.
“Alright, now we're cookin'!"
You balk as she drags you away from the coats and towards the dresses.
“I thought we were just here for statement pieces?”
“Nope. Silco’s birthday is coming up and you need to find a fit that will enslave his soul to yours forever.”
“Sounds totally achievable."
“You're a lot closer than you think," She grins. "That dress you wore to The Fissures was a total knockout. I saw Sevika sneaking pictures of you all night.”
“Huh. I didn’t think I was her type.”
“No silly! That’s a classic Silco move when he’s trying to be sly about recon. Have his chief of security take pictures and send them to his email with a bunch of bull recounting how so-and-so is a security risk or whatever. But I know for a fact that he downloaded the attachments of you and has those pictures in his phone.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, I don’t actually know, but I feel it in my gut. Otherwise, why would he have had Sevika take so many pictures of you from behind?”
“I don’t know,” You continue, struggling to fight through the fluster. “Maybe Sevika’s a butt girl.”
“They’re both into butts, trust me on this. I’ve overheard way too many horrifying conversations before to be in any doubt.”
She shudders, and you try to imagine a scenario during which the two most intimidating people on the planet have casual conversations about women’s behinds. Sevika definitely fits the profile, but you consider whether you’ve noticed Silco paying particular attention to your asset. In hindsight, there are perhaps several occasions where you’ve noticed his eyes sliding up after you turn around to face him.
Another warm thrill, another fight to keep your thoughts on the moment at hand and not the past, where your ass was firmly planted in his lap.
Come on woman, keep it together!
“Okay, so we’re looking for a party dress.”
“Or maybe like a super fancy pantsuit. I’m pretty sure you’d slay in a good pantsuit.”
Having Jinx along makes the process of fancy dress shopping as entertaining as you imagine it would be. Plus she’s an excellent fashion advisor, so you let her lead you to and from the changing rooms to model all your collective finds.
Most of them are duds, but one of them is a gem. You feel the confidence brimming the second you slip on the piece and gaze at your reflection in the mirror. Jinx’s wild exclamations confirm that you’ve found the one.
“OMG, you look even better than I could have hoped! I’m totally buying a camera so I can document the look on dad’s face when he sees you. He’s going to go absolutely feral.”
She squeals, and you hide a flush of pleasure by turning to look at your reflection once again. You wipe your hands across the material, and smile broadly with at your reflection.
Maybe you and Silco are still figuring out the natural dance of your underground relationship, but if anything can help you break through the initial awkwardness, this little number certainly could.