Gillian/Ari | 4:00 PM - GOODWIN'S OUTFITTING
Ari had a love/hate relationship with armor. She didn’t like to wear it – it was heavy, cumbersome, and restrictive – but she had to appreciate the additional protection it provided in the unpleasant instances of various enemies spotting the bard at the back of a battle party and choosing to gift her with their attentions. Even so, she owned nothing but a simple leather breastplate, which she had bought a few years ago and took to be serviced whenever she remembered (which was to say, not very often). She recalled that she had garnered some surprise from the shopkeeper when she had bought it – apparently, the design she’d chosen was meant for teen boys, not women, but honestly, it had looked more practical and covered more skin, and wasn’t that the whole point of armor, if one had to wear it at all?
Regardless, her breastplate had taken a bit of a beating months ago, in the caves outside town, but she had left it in the back of her closet, unconcerned with its state, until this afternoon. In the process of digging through her clothing to find just the right thing for tonight’s evening out (and really, since when had she been tis concerned?), she had come across the breastplate in its sad state and pulled it out with a grimace. She preferred not to need it, but if she did end up needing it again, it was probably better if it wasn’t quite so… damaged. Besides, she had several hours to kill.
This was what led her to Goodwin’s this afternoon. She had originally bought the piece there, and though she suspected she could probably coax Aspel into taking care of the matter for free, she not only realized the other woman was too busy for the smithy most days, but also did not relish explaining why she had waited this long to take care of something Aspel would no doubt find somewhat crucial, considering how often she seemed to throw herself in front of Ari in dangerous situations. Goodwin’s it was, then; she entered the shop with the breastplate bundled in her arms, then smiled at the sight of an unexpected face. “Hello, Gillian,” she said with a friendly nod – she couldn’t add a wave with her arms full as they were – as she approached the counter, upon which her sad little breastplate was deposited. “It has been some time, hasn’t it?” In the last year and a half or so, as her career had taken off, she had taken on few mercenary jobs, but she had done some healing for Gillian’s crew in the past. “You’re looking well.”