Chapter Text
"A meeting?" Vil asked, glancing over his shoulder. Rook lingered by his door, polite yet seemingly surprised himself. The huntsman nodded, placing a hand on his chest.
"Indeed. They were rather insistent on seeing you." He repeated. Vil's eyes flicked towards his clock, pursing his lips at the digits clearly reading nine pm. Curfew had already been called, and he doubts anyone from his dorm would call a meeting in such a manner. If anything, they'd have come knocking at his door if it were such a pressing issue. He'd long made it clear they are at liberty to do so; in fact, he practically made it a rule.
He doubts anyone else from the other dorms would be bold enough to come at such a late hour without proper warning, even if they wished for a dorm transfer, especially so late into the year. "Who is it?" Vil asked as he stood up. If they were meeting past the regular hours, this person either had guts or something had gone terribly wrong.
"Reine de Roses," Rook answered, the corner of his lips curling into a faint smile. Vil paused, eyes widening.
Riddle?
Riddle herself had come at such a late hour?
Now that was unusual.
Riddle always insisted on going by the books, following every rule to the exact letter, and while she certainly didn't behave as she had at the start of the year, the sentiment was still there. If Riddle was ignoring curfew, something grave had to be happening.
"You should've started with that." Vil sighed, rushing past Rook. The huntsman watched his rapid steps, shaking his head with a knowing smile.
He entered Pomefiore's common room in a long stride, catching sight of red hair easily among the purple and gold spread across the room. He cleared his throat, approaching the other with a curious glance.
Riddle glanced over her shoulder, offering him a polite nod. Vil returned the greeting, settling down across from her. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you at this hour." He hummed with a quirked eyebrow. The twitch of his lip gave away his amusement at the situation.
Riddle's cheeks flushed, pursing her lips together. She straightened her posture, absentmindedly fiddling with a strand of her hair. "Truth be told, I couldn't find myself with the patience to wait until the next morning." She admitted stiffly. "You… Well, I suppose I wish for some fashion advice."
Vil blinked, surprised. "Fashion advice?" Out of everything he thought she'd say, fashion advice wasn't one of them.
"I've been meaning to update my wardrobe since last month, and Cater has always praised your style." Riddle's cheeks burned even brighter than before, folding her arms. She cleared her throat, trying to keep a straight face. "… And I'm quite fond of your style as well." She admitted. Vil had a sneaking suspicion as to why she approached him specifically, but if she wasn't mentioning it, he saw no reason to force it out. Besides, he wasn't one to turn down an honest request for advice, especially not from Riddle. Not when she defied her own rules to visit him.
"Very well." Vil agreed, smiling as she perked up slightly. He crossed his leg over the other, "Now, what kind of advice were we thinking?"
"Actually… I was wondering if you'd be willing to accompany me tomorrow? Shopping, I mean."
"Shopping?"
"You don't have to if you're busy! I just wanted to extend the offer. I could always-"
"I'd be delighted to go." He answered before she could go on a word tangent. Riddle blinked, glancing up at Vil with wide eyes. The blonde smirked slightly at the surprised look. If anything, she looked rather cute when she allowed herself the freedom to simply… be. "Let's say… around two? I believe that's a reasonable time to get our duties dealt with and plenty of spare time for modeling new clothes." He hummed with a nod. Riddle nodded, winded. She paused, furrowing her eyebrows.
"I'm sorry, modeling?"
"Of course. I don't go by the eye. I'll ensure to find the perfect matches for you, comfortable and presentable."
"Presentable?"
"Well, with you, I don't exactly have to worry about that. Not compared with… a certain other." He teased lightly. Riddle snorted, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.
Riddle did look her best with such a serene expression…
"Good afternoon," Riddle greeted him with a polite nod. She glanced at his accessories, smirking slightly. "Hiding from your fans?" She folded her arms, earning a sigh from Vil.
"While getting recognized is nice, I don't want to take away from our original goal of getting you new clothes. My attention is yours for the day." He answered, already turning towards the exit. Riddle's face warmed before hastily following after Vil. The travel into town seemed to pass in a breeze, both conversing about anything that came to mind.
"Tell me, what style are you thinking?" Vil asked as they entered their first store of the day. He knew for certain they'd be here for a while, a charm with these kinds of trips. He turned towards Riddle, folding his arms. "Modest? Alternative? Elegant?" He listed various styles, Riddle's mind scrambling by the end of it. She shook her head, Vil waiting for her reply.
Riddle glanced around the store, studying the various models propped up with a few styles already. She turned back towards him, voice determined. "Well, I was hoping to experiment." She began, and Vil quirked an eyebrow. She took her phone out of her pocket, typing at impressive speeds. "Cater's already sent a few ideas, and I'm rather fond of this one particular look." She flipped the screen over, revealing a model with a slightly androgynous appearance, a mash of colors, yet pulled the entire outfit together.
"Vkei? Thinking of it, it would fit you rather well." Vil praised, glancing back at the store. This shop wouldn't particularly supply the needed materials… Well, he supposed they could search another store. And if they didn't, he wouldn't mind tailoring a special outfit for the other. They had all the time in the world after all. "As far as I know, this chain doesn't supply the material we need. I believe there's one we can check, if you wish?" He offered. The young woman shook her head, folding her arms.
"I was hoping for more styles either way. My mother would lose her head if I didn't at least attempt to get something more… reserved." She clarified. Vil scrunched his slightly at the memory. From the brief stories Riddle shared, she'd actually been quite accepting of Riddle's newfound identity— although the older woman hadn't let go of expectations and merely shifted them to fit a new criterion. There was simply no winning with her.
"Of course… But I assure you, I'll find you something you'll enjoy as well." He hummed. And so, the two traveled further into the store. By the first hour, Riddle already had a pile of clothes dumped into her hands and rushed off into a dressing room. Vil waited outside, sitting on the plush couch while he waited.
"I have to thank you for this again, Vil." Riddle called out from inside, shuffling clothes heard behind the locked door. "Are you sure this isn't clashing with your schedule?" She asked, having done this five times since their descent into town.
"As I've said before, my schedule was cleared, and I have no issues in helping someone when it comes to beauty." He reminded. The door clicked open, and Riddle walked out in the first ensemble. They'd decided to comply with Riddle's mother's demands first so that they could move on to the more enjoyable part later. As such, Riddle was wearing a simple long-sleeved blouse with a Chelsea collar. The shirt reached just below her hips, the extra flow allowing her to cover the brown belt that held her black pants together. Vil had found a pair of boots with fur coating their top, hoping it was enough not to get vetoed by Riddle's mother at a later date.
The point was for Riddle to feel free to express herself, after all.
"What do you think?" Vil asked as Riddle gazed into the mirror. She hummed before turning back towards him with a look. "No…" He sighed, massaging his temple. Riddle's mouth twitched, eyes gleaming in amusement.
"My mother would say the collar is too short."
"I can't imagine what she'd say to a tank top."
"Let's not take my mother into an early grave, please."
Vil shot her a weary look, but Riddle merely turned back into the changing room and the door locked with a soft click behind her. "I was wondering, Vil. How did you get your hair to that length?" Riddle asked as the rustling of clothes filled the air again.
"I grew it out naturally. Although that took a while."
"I suspected as much."
"Were you interested in changing your hair length?"
"Slightly." Riddle replied as she pushed the door open. She took a few steps forward, skirt swaying with her every move. "I was aiming for chin or shoulder length. Experiment to see if I want it longer or if that proved an acceptable length." She nodded at the mirror, brushing a strand of her hair aside. She stared at herself in the mirror, shifting to get a better glance at all sides.
"Liberating, no?" Vil commented as he stood up, hovering his hand to the side. She nodded, allowing him to readjust the shirt. She watched him closely, admiring the accessories he offered to the look. "Something feels so refreshing about exploring other styles, clothing, and even what kind." He readjusted her hair with approval, watching her reaction closely. Riddle kept a neutral expression, listening to his story intently with a sheen in her eyes.
"Was there… anything that spoke out to you?" She tilted her head, curious. Vil hummed, tilting his head.
"Well, I remember seeing this gorgeous dress on a model, and I knew right then, I needed to wear it."
"The one you used for the stage awards?" Riddle suddenly interjected. Vil paused, arching an eyebrow at her words. He hadn't known she was familiar with his work. The woman hadn't known much about actors, considering documentaries were the only thing that played in her home. He had a few words for her mother for that, but he bit his tongue for now.
"Yes, actually. Have you seen it?"
"Cater lent me a few magazines for inspiration," Riddle answered, glancing back at the mirror. The outfit was a simple cream knit sweater, a red skirt that pooled to her ankles, a pair of Mary Janes, and finished with what she assumed was a beret. Riddle glanced back at Vil, curious. "How many outfits are we getting?" She questioned, and Vil smirked.
"That's a trick question. We'll get enough until we drop."
Perhaps Riddle should've known dragging Vil along meant she'd get an entire remodeling.