Brendan had no idea what he was in for when he walked into the draper's. Already confused, he wondered if maybe he'd heard Jemima wrong about the location the suit-alterations would take place at. "I thought you said we was doin' it here!" he hissed at Jemima as he stood holding the suit, but didn't have time to get an answer as Mr. Pettigrew stuck his head out from behind the curtain.

Jemima looked at Brendan and just put a 'shush!' finger to her lips as Pettigrew came through. She had kept both Brendan and Miriam in the dark as to her exact plans 1) because she didn't trust the acting abilities of either of them and 2) because she would have had to disclose something about Mr Pettigrew that she had suspected for a long time and which, if true, well, was his own private business. She certainly didn't approve or it, but she was happy to use it to her advantage to help Mr Connolly and, in turn, help Bridget.  

Pretty soon the plump ginger-haired man had the slim handsome ex-cowboy more or less naked in his back room, apart from some tight-fitting underdrawers that left little to the imagination. His two young female assistants came through: Miriam because she would need to take down the measurements as Worcester called them out and Jemima because... well, frankly, she wanted to have a look: also she could make sure everything went to plan. One might have expected giggling from the two, but there was perhaps more of an awed silence at the sight of the Mississippian's perfect frame. He could have modelled fig leaves for a living.

Pettigrew himself had to gulp: he hadn't been this close to so much young, firm, bare muscle in years! His last partner had been his partner: John Lockhart Packham whose name still adorned the sign outside the drapers, but he had been as middle-aged and unglamorous as Wus when they set up business here back in '72. It was more of a domestic partnership than a sexual relationship between them, though they had made merry in their shared youth. Since his death last year, the portly Mr. P. hadn't touched another man and didn't intend to. Hadn't intended to. He pulled a fancy hanky from his pocket, dabbed his sweat beaded brow, and, with shaking, began to measure my Connolly's beautifully muscled torso and limbs with his tape, calling out the measurements to Miriam and making the odd apology to Brendan as he inevitably accidently touched, tickled, stroked against or, on one occasion bumped his head against various parts of the man's exposed anatomy. 

It had actually been very hard for the girls not to laugh out loud at the last incident. 

He got up off his knees (with Jemima's help) after taking Brendan's inside leg measurement, after which, he genuinely needed a sit down. 

"Please feel free to get re-dressed, Mr Connolly. I shall commence work on your alterations tonight! But first, won't you join me in a small glass of madeira in my rooms?" he asked genially. 

"Oh!" cut in Jemima "I don't think we can afford to have a master tailor do the work, Mister Pettigrew, that's why me and Miriam were going to do it." she nudged Miss Kaufman to nod along. 

Pettigrew looked from the girls to the still bare-chested Brendan and back to Jemima.

"Oh, I dare say any fee might well be waived. Er, you girls get along home now, it's near supper time. Mr Connolly and myself will discuss the matter upstairs." he waved them away, slightly impatiently, Jemima thought.

Bailey Wayfarer

[OOC: Don't worry, Brendan is quite safe!]

Miriam was then appraised by her employer of the expected task at hand. This young man was to be fitted for some proper clothing. Ever the dutiful one Miriam nodded, "Yes, Mr. Pettigrew."

As Miriam did her part in the measurements even she could not help but take note of the man's fine physique. As she worked the man's name suddenly came to her, it was the new hire by her father in his butcher shop. Her father had called him 'a strapping young fellow' and that certainly was true. Interesting. When the ladies part in this was finished (well not the making part but the part that needed his impressive presence) but before Mr. Pettigrew could whisk Brendan off she decided to risk 'small talk'.

"Oh, you work for my father at the butcher shop. I'm Miriam Kaufmann. I hope father is not too hard on you. He can be stern but fair," she smiled up him.

"Oh, you work for my father at the butcher shop. I'm Miriam Kaufmann. I hope father is not too hard on you. He can be stern but fair," Miriam smiled up him.

Brendan paused in buttoning his jeans to look down the diminutive, mousy girl with his best smile. "Yes, little lady, I do. And he's been mighty fair so fair. Haven't given him cause to be stern with me yet."

"That's good, my little brother, Abraham, you must know him. He says you are a fine fellow, he likes you," she added. She might be shy but she could hold her own in a conversation when the opportunity availed itself.

"You also know my best friend, Arabella?  She used to work at the saloon and she talked about you quite a bit. She said the saloon singer liked you too. So much so that she let you sleep on her floor in her room." 

OK, so maybe she needn't have thrown that little detail in. But she was at least diplomatic enough to leave out some other details Arabella shared about those two.

ooc: Sorry I couldn't even find this one.

Brendan declared without hesitation that he liked her brother, Abraham. Not surprising, everybody did. The boy had a nice sense of humor even if Mother did not always appreciate it. Brother and sister got along well.

"Oh yes, he's a good worker. Father would tolerate nothing less from us," Miriam nodded.

And it was plain by the look on his (handsome by the way) face, that he knew and liked Arabella, which pleased her too. Miriam realized some folks had a hard time with the admittedly rather strange girl but she always defended Ara regardless.

As he buttoned his shirt, Brendan stared at Miriam, a tiny frown on his face. "Uh-huh," he said finally. "On the floor. Yeah, she let me sleep on the floor."

"That was nice of her. I only met her once but she wasn't scary at all, like I had expected. But of course I do not visit such places," Miriam wanted it known, she was a good girl.

He tucked in his shirttails and pulled up his suspenders, then cleared his throat. "You tell Arabella hey from me when you see her next."

"Certainly, I see her most days. We are.....bosom friends," Miriam smiled.

"It was nice to meet you, sir," she remained ever so polite.

Mr Pettigrew came back in and summoned Mr Connolly upstairs for this 'friendly drink': up the creaking stairs and into his bachelor quarters above the shop. The main room, which had a bedroom off, as well as a small water closet off of that, was surprisingly spacious, although it bowed to the current zeitgeist in being somewhat over stuffed with antiques, prints on the wall, a piano and all manner of useless bric-à-brac. Pettigrew motioned to an overstuffed armchair and, going to a liquor cabinet with a fold down lip for preparing the drinks upon, poured himself a madeira, but then turned to the handsome cowboy turned butcher... and alleged butcherer of men. He had to admit, he did feel a small frisson as he looked at Brendan, and recalled the firm young muscles he had so recently been running his tape measure over with palsied, trembling hands.

"Would you prefer a whiskey, Mister Connolly? I'm afraid I don't have beer." He imagined that would be the real preferred beverage of a rough, tough, handsome young cowboy-turned-butcher and alleged... oh no, he had to stop thinking like that! He hadn't brought Brendan up here to try and seduce him. No. definitely not. Positively, absolutely not!! There was an odd jingling, tingling sound. Odd. Had those two girls forgotten something and come back in at the front door? That was imposs... oh! He realised it was the sound of his shaking hand clinking the whiskey bottle to the glass as he poured Brendan a big one. 

He chuckled genially as he waddled over and gave the handsome, rough, etc. man his drink and then sat himself down in a chair opposite, raising his dinky madeira glass and, after a cursory "Good Health!" downing it in one. 

"Now, you're probably wondering two things, Mister Connolly. Number one, why I am willing to make these suit alterations at absolutely no cost to yourself and, number two, why I have invited you up here for this little chat!" he heard himself say. He was sort of wondering that himself. Why was he?

No, he knew exactly why, and he was ashamed of himself. He had sworn never to be inveigled by a handsome face, a deep voice and a muscly arm again. To make a fool of himself and be rejected. To open himself up to blackmail and extortion. No. Brendan was beautiful, so beautiful it almost made him want to cry. But no. He must be firm. but he needed to say something.

"Well, let me ask you, Sir" he beamed "Take a good look at me: what to you notice that sticks out the most?!"

Bailey

He tucked in his shirttails and pulled up his suspenders, then cleared his throat. "You tell Arabella hey from me when you see her next."

"Certainly, I see her most days. We are.....bosom friends," Miriam smiled.

Mr Pettigrew and Miss Wigfall were coming back in now and the latter heard the last part of the conversation. 'bosom friends' indeed! The obscene, stomach-churning image of those two and what they probably did to each other's bosom's invaded Jemima's mind for one horrible second before she managed to shut it out and replace it with something nicer and more normal. Like nice Mr Connolly there, perhaps touching her own b... oh no! but he was Bridget's beau, so she wouldn't allow herself to imagine that, either. Bridget was her friend. Oh Lord, being good and normal was tough work in this town!

"It was nice to meet you, sir," she remained ever so polite.

"Bye" was all Jemima would allow herself to say to Brendan as he went upstairs with their employer. Well, her plan to help Bridget, by helping Brendan, seemed to have worked. But at what cost? She and Miriam locked up the store and exited out the back as they usually did after the day's work was done. Jemima always walked Miriam home a) to protect her from ne'er do wells, but mainly b) to put off going home herself and the inevitable shouting matches and rows. 

"You and Mister Connolly were awful friendly." she observed. It was bad enough that Miriam and Arabella did unpleasant and unnatural things together, but in a way, Miriam was worse because she could... and had!... have normal relations with a boy. If you could call having relations with her horrible brother Hector in any way 'normal'.

"I hope Mister Pettigrew doesn't try and jump him." she said, slightly anxious that if he did and Brendan reacted the way any normal red blooded American male would, she might be responsible for Connolly death tally number IV.

Wayfarer