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Waking up late on a Saturday felt great. It was something Mort very rarely got to do, given the nature of his job, and yet here he was. He’d decided to spoil himself for once in his life; not only had he made plans for the day, but he'd also prerecorded both broadcasts for the day, meaning he didn’t have to do any work on his birthday.
Mort didn’t often take days off to himself outside of holidays, nor did he usually make plans this way for his birthday, besides enjoying dinner with his parents. Of course, he was going to do just that later, but before that Mort had a little errand to run. The Siamese cat had gone out to eat breakfast at a nearby café, and for the first time in quite a while, Mort felt happy and at peace.
His thoughts didn’t constantly return to dwelling on Sin, like they had for a few weeks. He knew not to rush him, and he was sure the old grave-keeper needed to be alone. Granted, he hadn't heard from him since the last time that Sin visited him, nor had Mort reached out, but he was sure Sin would do so when the time was right.
However, as he walked down the street towards his home, Mort was greeted by a sight that immediately made his spirit sink right through the pavement. Mort's eye gave a twitch as his boss, of all people, came walking around a corner.
Before the Siamese cat could even think of ducking out of the way and into a nearby alley or the like, Mr. Sweet caught sight of him out of the corner of his eye. The older cat was dressed in a big, thick-looking coat that made the already stout man appear even more imposing than normal. “Ah, Mr. Blakely, what a coincidence! How do you do?”
As Mort cautiously approached with a somewhat forced smile, he did start to wonder if this really was a coincidence or not. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that Mr. Sweet somehow always knew what he was doing and where he was. “Oh, Mr. Sweet… I’m doing quite well, thank you. How about you?”
“Oh, doing quite dandy, young Morr- I mean, Blakely,” the golden-furred cat said, winking when he pretended to accidentally mix up his names. Once Mort was close enough, Mr. Sweet grasped his hand and firmly shook it. “Say, you have any plans today?”
“Yes, yes, I do, sir,” Mort replied promptly, hoping to possibly get out of this whole situation in a hurry. The less time he spent in Mr. Sweet’s company, the better. “I was on my way out to run a few errands-”
“Ah, yes, your birthday correct? Happy birthday, kiddo.” Mort couldn’t help but feel a chill shoot down his spine when Mr. Sweet wished him a happy birthday. Even despite the older man’s warm, deep voice and his smile, it didn’t exactly make Mort feel at ease – most people wouldn't just know someone’s birthday without being told of it.
“Yeah, exactly – just got a few little things to do by myself before tonight.” Mort was trying his best to sound resolute and firm, hoping Mr. Sweet would have the good sense to let him go about his day.
“Oh and what would they include?” Mort felt himself growing annoyed with his boss, but he didn’t know how to politely excuse himself and get out of the conversation at hand.
“Well, for one I was just going to treat myself to some new clothes-”
“Ah, splendid!” Mr. Sweet said loudly, cutting in before Mort could finish his sentence. Mort opened his mouth to protest, but Mr. Sweet put a hand on the younger cat’s shoulder. “Come along, I’ll bring you to one of my favorite tailors. I’m sure we can find you something nice.”
“Mr. Sweet, that’s- you don’t really need to do that, I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own,” Mort tried to insist as the older cat guided him down the sidewalk. He gave some resistance, but Mr. Sweet’s grip didn’t falter as he guided him along. “Really, Mr. Sweet-”
“Nonsense, let’s get you something nice to wear – honestly, you could do with some new clothes, you’ve been showing up to parties in the same outfit for months. People are starting to talk…” Despite himself, Mort couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit self-conscious upon hearing that. He of course had planned on buying new clothes, partially for that reason to begin with. “And besides, since it’s your birthday, consider it all a gift from me, Mr. Blakely.”
Mr. Sweet guided Mort along without giving him much of a choice. The idea of being the recipient of Mr. Sweet’s generosity yet again was one that made Mort feel uneasy. Once more, he didn’t like the feeling of being put into a position where he’d feel like he was owing him. The last time he'd been there was New Year’s Eve and before then…
“Mr. Sweet, it’s really not necessary with a gift of that nature, really…” Mort insisted after a few moments of silence. He checked behind them just to make sure, but thankfully no one seemed to follow them. There were other people on the street, though no one Mort recognized, luckily – no familiar faces from Marigold.
“Oh, don’t be like that, kid. It’s only fair, since you’ve been such an asset for us,” Mr. Sweet told him with a chortle. Mort's dark gray ear gave a twitch. He hadn't ever really asked about how his job impacted Marigold or if there even was a noticeable impact to begin with, but the real question was, did he want to know? When Mr. Sweet saw the inquisitive look on Mort's face, he smirked. “It’s true, son. Been real helpful – but let’s not discuss that out here, eh?”
“Oh, right…” Mort replied, feeling momentarily stupid for expecting such a sensitive subject-matter to be readily discussed in public. “Of course, sir…”
Mr. Sweet had a mixture of cologne and cigar-smoke coming from him, a smell Mort still didn’t like, but had somewhat gotten used to. Walking this close to him, it was certainly impossible to ignore. It disgusted Mort, but he said nothing.
As it turned out, Mr. Sweet took Mort to a small tailor shop he hadn't ever been to before. It was a quaint little place, though not one that particularly stood out to Mort – odds were if he wasn’t looking for a tailor shop, he would never have noticed this one himself.
Mr. Sweet opened the door and stepped inside, Mort reluctantly following behind after he decided that running away might not leave the best impression on his boss. The interior of the shop was mercifully considerably warmer than the outside. The store was dimly lit and momentarily Mort was gripped by the fear that Mr. Sweet had brought him to an empty building to have him killed. That was until he got a proper look around.
The dark wooden floor and similarly dark walls certainly didn’t make for the most inviting atmosphere to Mort. Though mostly barren with lots of floor space, Mort noticed racks holding several pieces of clothing on one side of the room. Up in front of the door was the front desk where a man dressed sharply in a white dress shirt and a shiny and glossy black vest stood, watching them. He had his sleeves rolled up and when he spotted Mr. Sweet, his expression broke into a smile that appeared slightly forced, though Mort wasn't quite sure if he was simply imagining that. Perhaps he was just putting up a smile to be polite. Who knew, maybe Mr. Sweet wasn't exactly his favorite patron.
“Ah, Mr. Sweet, it’s been a while. What can I do for you today? Who’s your young friend? Relative of yours?” the tailor asked in an accent Mort didn’t recognize. As he spoke, he fixated Mort with his stormy gray eyes. The tailor was a tall Savannah cat with short, beige fur with black spots and stripes, and he kept his eyes on Mort in an almost suspicious way. If Mort had to guess he was probably in his late 30s, but he wasn't entirely sure. He had a strong-looking build, his face was handsome, but the warmth of his smile didn’t translate to his eyes, which only unnerved Mort more. Mort tried to meet those gray eyes the best he could, but he had such an intense stare. However, the idea of being related to Mr. Sweet made Mort's insides feel like someone clenched them.
“Oh, no, just a kid who works for me is all – it’s his birthday today, so I’m treating him to something nice,” Mr. Sweet answered promptly, though he seemed amused by the tailor’s assumption more than anything. “Got anything in his size, old friend?”
Casting a look over Mort once he got closer, the tall cat seemed doubtful. “Hmmm, I might need to modify them a bit. Usually my patrons are a bit more… Oh, not important, what are we thinking, gentlemen? Something casual? Formal?”
“Uh…” Mort could feel some insecurities start to stir in his brain as he tried to figure out what the tailor had almost said.
“Something formal, we’ll see about the rest,” Mr. Sweet answered for Mort, before he got a chance to answer for himself. Mr. Sweet turned to Mort and smirked. “Mr. Romano here is one of my favorite tailors in town. He’ll help you dress nice, kid.”
“First things first… I’ll have to measure you, Mr.…?”
“Blakely,” Mort replied quickly, afraid Mr. Sweet might introduce him as his alias if he didn’t. He cleared his throat, before removing his coat and hanging it by the door. Underneath, Mort wore a green cardigan over a white dress shirt, though it certainly did add to the feeling of being underdressed next to Mr. Romano. Mort followed the taller cat along to the other side of the room.
Mort wasn't too used to visiting tailor shops like this one, and he curiously looked around at all the supplies and tools used to make clothes; Mort could see rolls of fabric stacked on the walls, scissors, needles, and spools of thread lying on a desk along with paper and pens. A few mannequins of differently sized torsos stood by one of the walls and a sowing machine had its own little podium-like table.
Once Mr. Romano had retrieved measuring tape, he moved over to Mort who waited rather anxiously. Once told to, he spread his arms as wide as he could, feeling remarkably like he was one of the scarecrows back on the farm that he used to find so unsettling as a child. Mort didn’t like the way Mr. Sweet watched… or really just the fact that Mr. Sweet was present at all. It turned what should be a casual sort of thing into feeling like he was at work, and like he was being supervised.
“Alright, alright…” the tailor muttered once he was done and let Mort lower his arms. Mort knew silent judgment when he saw it, but he said nothing to the tailor as the older cat looked him up and down momentarily. “So, what are we looking for? Something formal, was it? Perhaps a nice suit… Perhaps something along these lines?”
Mr. Romano had moved back to the opposite side of the room where Mr. Sweet waited, Mort following along cautiously. When he saw Mr. Sweet’s smirk again, the Siamese cat offered a cautious sort of smile back. Mr. Romano immediately held out a dark, navy blue suit that instantly reminded Mort of the suit he’d seen Mr. Sweet wearing so often.
“Oh, a lovely piece,” Mr. Sweet commented, before Mort got a chance. He wasn’t too fond of the idea that he and Mr. Sweet dressed too similarly, but Mort hadn’t the faintest clue how to say so in a polite way.
“It’s certainly nice…” he said, but the tailor immediately put it back on the rack, apparently able to sense hesitation from him.
“Hmmm…” Mr. Romano looked down at Mort with a rather judgmental look on his face. He looked over at Mr. Sweet for a moment, then back at Mort. “I suppose I could always custom tailor you something, Mr. Blakely… What’s your budget? I ain't cheap.”
“Don’t you worry about that, Mr. Romano, it’s all on me today. Throw that blue suit in too, just make sure it fits the kid,” Mr. Sweet told him nonchalantly. While Mort himself wasn't exactly short on money, he wasn't sure he'd have gone as far as to ask for a new suit to be tailored just for him. The idea sounded nice, but Mort imagined such an ordeal wouldn't come cheap… and yet again, Mr. Sweet just threw these presents at him and made him feel like he owed him. When was Mr. Sweet’s birthday? Was Mort expected to gift him something now?
“Very well then… But what would you like?” Mr. Romano asked Mort directly, his tone rather impatient. It caught Mort by surprise, but he didn’t let the older tailor wait for long.
“Oh, uh… something black, I think. Something nice, classy,” Mort told him after thinking it over for a moment. Unfortunately, Mort didn’t really have much of a clue what he was talking about; he didn’t know much about clothes or how they were made. “Nothing too fancy, though…”
“Oh, nonsense, make sure he looks like one of us,” Mr. Sweet told Mr. Romano with a wink. Mort immediately shot a cautious look at Mr. Romano, who barely seemed to react. Was he…? He had to be… right? What else could Mr. Sweet be referring to besides being a Marigold?
“Hmmm… very well, Mr. Sweet…” Mr. Romano moved over to one of the nearby tables and picked up a notepad and a pen, before he began to scribble. “Black suit, elegant… Very well. I’ll need some time for that, Mr. Blakely. A few weeks should do, and we’ll need to do fittings as well.”
“Alright, Mr. Romano, that’s… that’s quite-” Mort stopped when he turned his head to spot a familiar, hunched silhouette passing by the window. Sin? Was that really him? Mort stood still and stared for a moment. The white-furred face, the hunched posture… surely that was him, right? Or was Mort just imagining things? Sin had such a distinguished appearance, it was hard to imagine that he’d somehow mistaken someone else for him…
“Everything alright?” Mort gave a slight jump when Mr. Romano addressed him. He sounded more annoyed than concerned.
“What? Oh… uh… It sounds just fine, Mr. Romano. Should I just stop by in a few weeks then?” Mort asked as he watched the older tailor moving over to the rack where he’d picked out the dark blue suit previously. He pulled it back out and gave Mort a look.
“We can do some fittings for this, and I’ll have it modified to fit you in a day or two,” the Savannah Cat told Mort calmly as he held up the suit. “You’re welcome to have a look around after, if anything catches your eye.”
Mort cast a look over the clothes momentarily. He did spot a different black suit he quite liked, but already at a glance, he could tell that it wouldn't fit him. The Siamese cat did pick out a dark red vest, he thought it might go well with a black suit. He never did wear red, outside his neck tie, however, but it would make for a nice change of pace, he thought.
The fittings for the blue suit and the vest were mercifully rather quick, much to Mort's surprise. He was being fitted for it in the middle of the shop, having slid it onto himself over his clothes. Mr. Romano was quick and seemingly not one for smalltalk, thankfully. Mort just wanted this to be over with in a hurry, so he could get out of Mr. Sweet’s clutches for the day.
Once everything was done, Mr. Sweet set about doing the transactions with Mr. Romano while Mort waited. It was a strange feeling and not one he was sure he liked. He'd much rather have paid for it himself, and he easily could have.
“There you go, son – soon you’ll be dressing like a proper Marigold,” Mr. Sweet chuckled at him as they prepared to leave. Mort would be able to pick up the modified clothes in a few days, and he just hoped he wouldn't run into Mr. Sweet again when he did. “We are having a little party sometime next weekend. You’ll look just dashing, kid. Might even catch the eye of some gal.”
At this Mr. Sweet roared with laughter, both Mr. Romano and Mort staring at him, though Mr. Romano looked far more confused than Mort. But even then, Mort wasn't so sure what was funny about that. Granted, no woman had approached him at the Marigold parties, perhaps that was why Mr. Sweet thought it funny…
Mort blinked as his boss continued laughing. Or did he perhaps know-
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Blakely, I know what you are…” Mr. Sweet said rather ominously once he’d stopped laughing. His tone was a rather playful one, and he still looked at Mort with a conniving look on his face.
“Will that be all, Mr. Sweet?” Mr. Romano asked, Mort feeling rather grateful for the prospect of this being over. The sooner he could go about his day without Mr. Sweet, the better. Indeed, Mr. Romano also seemed to be eager to get rid of Mr. Sweet and Mort couldn’t blame him.
Luckily that was indeed it and as the transaction was complete, Mort and Mr. Sweet left the shop after bidding the tailor goodbye. As soon as they were outside Mr. Sweet patted Mort's shoulder. “There, there, kid. Am I being too hard on ya’?”
“Uh… a little…” Mort answered cautiously, though this only seemed to make Mr. Sweet grin more. “What did you mean by- uh… that thing you said in there?”
“What thing? Please, kid, you need to be more specific,” Mr. Sweet told him as he pulled out a cigar to light, much to Mort's annoyance. He tried not to let the disgust show on his face, however. Mr. Sweet eyed Mort in a way that he didn’t like, like he had him right where he wanted him. As he blew a puff of smoke into the air, Mort was still just glad he wasn’t being hit by the smelly cloud.
“Uh…” Mort glanced around. He thought that perhaps asking that out here wasn't the best idea. “Right. Well, Mr. Sweet, I really appreciate the generous gifts and all, but I really ought to get going…”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure, kid – can’t allow my favorite employee to not be dressed properly at a party. And besides, we’re going to have a couple special guests – you’ll dress to impress,” Mr. Sweet insisted as he put his hand on Mort's shoulder again and guided him down the street. Mort inwardly wanted to weep. He just wanted to leave Mr. Sweet and go home. “I’ll walk you home, kid. Can’t be too careful these days…”
No kidding, Mort privately thought as he was being walked home by a man working in organized crime. That fact alone made Mort feel a lot less safe. “Oh, thank you, sir…”
He figured playing nice might get Mr. Sweet off his back sooner. It was a lucky thing Mort didn’t live too far from Mr. Romano’s tailor shop. It was a brief walk there and Mort would have been lying if he said that Mr. Sweet leaving him without a long goodbye wasn’t a highlight of his day.
He stepped into the hall and breathed a sigh of relief, before he made his way up the stairs to the third floor where he resided. As usual, the building seemed completely empty, given that it was a Saturday and all. Making his way up to the third floor landing, Mort was surprised to find a small package and an envelope on his doormat.
Picking up both, Mort checked for a sender or anything, but the envelope and package were both blank. For a moment, he worried it might be from Marigold. He let himself back into his apartment, where he moved to his desk to sit, before opening the envelope. He recognized the hand-writing immediately, his heart racing ever so slightly as he read it.
Dear Mort,
Before anything else, I would like to apologize for my silence. I realize where we left things off wasn't ideal and for that, I apologize. I still have a lot to think about, and I'm sure you do too.
It’s still not the right time to say much, but I hope you’re well, and I hope I haven't made you worry, or left you too distressed. Hopefully you can forgive an old fool like me.
But the real reason I’m sending you this is in the package. I remember you saying February 4th was your birthday, and I found something that reminded me of you.
I hope you like it.
Sincerely, Sin.
P.S. You will hear from me again soon, when the time is right, I promise.
Upon finishing the letter, Mort sat in silence for a little while. He couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps he really had seen Sin out and about today after all. He looked towards the package. It was very small, just barely bigger than Mort's own hand. Unwrapping it, he found a small parcel inside, which held-
Mort stared in amazement as he picked up the small bow ties within. One was plain blue – the exact shade of blue that perfectly matched Mort's eyes. The other also had the same blue color, albeit with diagonal Brooklyn stripes in black and gold.
Mort couldn’t help but feel his heart skip a beat when he realized what the coloration reminded him of. He couldn’t help but think back on the butterfly that had landed on him all those months ago when he was still getting to know Sin. That had to be what Sin had had in mind as well, right?
“Oh, Sin…” Mort almost sighed to himself as he held the bow ties as if they were made of glass. It was so hard not to feel things for Sin when he did things like this. Mort knew from what Sin had told him that birthdays had never been very celebrated within his family, but… He sure knew how to give good gifts – meaningful gifts that only made Mort's heart beat faster the longer he looked at them.