Ira was in a great mood. Ori had arrived for her spring break visit on Friday afternoon, and they’d had an amazing weekend together running around Nearside’s downtown sights, and especially up and down Solaris Road. He’d taken her to Past Life to introduce her to his coworkers, in and out of various eating establishments, and she’d spent many happy hours poking through the clothing racks at Madame Blueberry’s. Time that wasn’t devoted to exploring the city was spent simply at home in his apartment, talking and teasing one another, playing with the cat, and simply just enjoying each other’s presence.
Despite the regular, almost daily contact they maintained via telephone and the internet (yay, technology), Ira missed having his family in close proximity. His sister’s visit had him just about walking on sunshine; he was full of brotherly pride and enthusiasm to see her face-to-face. And Ira knew that Ori felt the same way: as grown-up and glamorous as Ira knew she liked to appear to most people, within minutes of hugging her brother hello Ori had regressed back into a delightful baby sister mode that even phone calls couldn’t to inspire so easily. One would think that all of the girlish teasing and gleeful juvenility would get old, particularly in person, but Ira was happy to tolerate it.
Even now, as they were preparing for dinner with the Moorens. It was to be a fun, fancy occasion, which was no problem with either Ira or Ori. Both of the siblings liked to dress smartly on a daily basis, so neither of them of them had any trouble with gussying a little more. Ori had taken to the idea immediately, dolling up in a pale, lacy fifties’ inspired frock of her own making. The delicacy and old-fashionedness of the dress was offset with a pair of knee-high Converse high-tops, which were bright teal -- as were the sash around her waist and the ribbon in her hair. It was all very pretty, but the top had her brother raising an eyebrow.
“Backless? No sleeves? You’re going to freeze to death on the way over,” Ira commented wryly, doing up his tie with experienced fingers. It was also teal; apparently Ori had matching outfits planned out from the start, because she’d brought the tie and a (fucking badass, she said, and he could not argue) teal trilby as presents for him upon her arrival. And insisted, of course, that Ira wear them, and inject some frickin’ color into his wardrobe for once.
She smiled sweetly at him. “No, I won’t. I’m going to wear your blazer on the walk there.” To prove her point, Ori grabbed his jacket from the chair upon which he had laid it and slung it on over her thin shoulders. The impish expression on her face dared him to demand it back, but Ira just shook his head and straightened the knot in his tie.
“You’ll give it back.”
“Once we’re there,” she rolled her eyes, taking a backwards seat on the chair as elegantly as only she could. She watched at Ira as he carefully adjusted his shirt, and threw up her hands in impatience. “Hurry up. You’re so slow!”
“We’ve got half an hour.” Ira didn’t so much as glance at her.
“Fuck it, hurry up anyways. I want to go!”
“The invite was for six. Give Staas a bit of time to get the kids ready, too.”