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You never would have counted Festive Fabrician's as somewhere where you could come into a weapon - or at least, something approaching a weapon - but it seems that the Pattern has been full of surprises for you today. Hoping that the obvious wealth of the dress will dissuade anyone from pestering you over the parasol ... and concerned that taking up this man on his offer would mean more time spent here, you decide against it.
"No, I - um, I don't think that will be necessary."
The three dressmakers and the two other men - possibly tailors, perhaps just porters - look quite taken aback at that. So taken aback, that he actually asks again.
"Fraulein, truly, it would be no trouble, none, none at all to just -"
"I understand that - but it is a handsome piece of wood. No sense marring it on my account."
As soon as those words are out of your mouth, you are second guessing them. Perhaps being that self-debasing isn't something that someone who would carry a parasol like this would - or should - say. In fact, judging by the openly incredulous looks on the faces of the crowd in the dressing room, perhaps it is not something that <span class="mu-i">anyone</span> would say. Damn it all. You really are going to have to be more deliberate with what you say if you really are going to pass yourself off as beyond your station. Regardless, the men do ultimately accept this, and they quickly excuse themselves. After the door has closed behind them, one of the dressmakers, who still looks a little flustered about a customer who would willing accept a parasol from a picknick set, starts to say something, then thinks better of it ... until she sees your attention on her, at which point she becomes more than 'just a little flustered', and she basically blurts out -
"Miss, h-have you ever, uh, ever worn a corset before?"
"Well, no, I can't say I have. But as a child, I did pick bouquets."
That is the truth. At least three years before you came to Outremer, so ... when you were five. Of course, it is probably better left unsaid that you were picking them to sell on the market streets. And it is <span class="mu-i">definitively</span> better left unsaid that once you grew frustrated with your paltry earnings, you started sneaking into walled gardens to steal rarer flowers than the other girls selling flowers in ... wherever exactly you were in the Imperial Core. Wherever it was, you did better business than all of them though - except this one redhead, who could get fine cloth strips to make corsets. And with corsets selling for more than bouquets while only taking a fourth of the flowers, you were never able to do as well as -
Suddenly you notice that the dressmakers are all starting at you, confused and uncomprehendingly. Your head throbs. Clearly, you have said either something stupid or something impolite, but you are clearly too stupid or too boorish to figure out what. Marpessa, however, is in fact clever enough to figure out your misunderstanding.
"No, no, miss. Corset. Not corsage."
