Re: [The Capital Mall: Atticus & Janus]
Janus' attention was on the fabrics being presented; he shook out one by the shoulder and held it up to check the coloring and quality. "Credit cards don't work that way, sweetie," he said, thoughtlessly. "You need to be there." He looked up around the collar of the shirt and raised both eyebrows. "It's more fun that way, as you well know." He deliberately looked away from the corner and didn't look again. It made him uncomfortable that there was something always watching; though he could expend some demonic magic to see what it was (he hadn't been audited in months, and was hoping they'd forgotten about him downstairs), he didn't really want to know.
Janus pretended to be disgusted at further scratching, wrinkling his nose, but the false expression faded, the smile lines around his mouth relaxing into the rough creases of his cheeks. He watched the lower scratch and then lifted his eyes to meet Atticus' gaze next. He didn't say anything, nor did he have to, the wordless intensity of the look enough of an answer.
Ricardo interrupted, in the unintentionally blundering way salespeople do, with more armfuls of clothes. He politely looked away from the shirtless Atticus in a way that Janus most certainly did not. Janus shooed him gently away with two hands, fingers flicking, and Ricardo took the hint, sweeping out. "Here," Janus said, handing over an open-necked shirt with a tailored trim. "Then the slacks. Then do a little walk and turn here," he said, smiling and indicating the little hall between the two dressing rooms, ending in a circle of mirrors. Irritatingly posh blue velvet armchairs were clustered at the opposite end, and Janus took one of these, folding one knee over the other with Ricardo's sweater for himself still on one arm.