The man surveyed her from his now towering height above her. His eyes darted from the capes, and the stand to her prone form sprawled unceremoniously on the ground. She thought he would say something about her clumsiness, but it turned out he was actually more interested in the capes.
 
"The capes? White just might become you. Yes, try it on instead." He bent to pull her up, looking only at the myriad capes now askew all over the floor.

Maille scrambled up and moved to the safe protection of another rack at her back, this one of brightly colored tavern style dresses. She watched his eyes flick toward them. But he shook his head causing the earrings to sway ponderously like twin ships on a large Pacific swell, and the lank hair to flutter as if in a breeze.

"No, the white would go with the dress, but I can't see you in neon anything." He gathered the dress to him, examining it for damage and then waited while she righted herself before handing it to her again. "Please try it on, Maille Mann. Please."

"Why?" She whispered, her large blue eyes alight with her unreasoning fear now. Who was this stranger? Was he crazy?

  The blue eyes widened in incredulity. "Surely you don't mean to attend a feast with me dressed in those... those...." He eyed her tailored brown skirt, and silk blouse in a skeptical way.

"Clothes." She supplied arrogantly, her hand outstretched for the peacock dress now.  "And I hadn't intended on attending anything with you. I don't even know you!" His prick about her choice of clothing having a strangely challenging effect on her, he tossed her the dress with a satisfied chuckle, and turned his back, cocking a booted foot. She realized then that from the back all he would need to complete the look of a swashbuckling buccaneer was a parrot on his shoulder and a hook in his left hand.

Surprised that the short sleeved dress was somewhat modest she straightened it's creamy folds and buttoned it's tight bodice, tying the laces in front deftly. A finger at the nape of her neck alerted her to his extremely close proximity. A sudden tuck, and her hair, that had been tightly bound in a sleek chignon, was now being wound artfully into cascading ringlets and shining plaits on top of her head, held in place by the same wrap that she'd used earlier that day to style her long dark hair. The urge to pull away was as strong as she'd ever felt, and the same urge to stay was just as powerful.

  "Now. Now you are fit for the feast. Come, come!  Come!" he commanded briskly, his voice now the gruff tone she was becoming familiar with.

She followed him to a standing mirror, and gazed with unabashed longing into the face of a stranger. Eyes unnaturally bright and confused, hair in a way at once messy, and yet wildly attractive, framing a face suddenly transformed from fresh and open to hidden and alluring.

He stood behind her in the mirror, not touching, just looking at her as if she were a prize. His dark hands with the nails painted pearl, pinched his chin in judicial thought. "Needs jewels.''

"You didn't tell me your name." Maille felt suddenly self-conscious, but she couldn't take her eyes away from her reflection. Was that her?

"I know."

"I tried on the dress for you. Won't you tell me your name?" she whirled to catch him face to face, but was unprepared for the intensity of those dark eyes.

"You will feast with me?" It was a courteous enough said question.

"Where? When?" she blurted, her mind running ahead to the questions currently plaguing it, but before she could even begin to fathom his intent, he answered her.

"My choice of eatery, now."

Maille, unprepared for any such invitation, having never received one in all her life, blushed hotly. "I can't."

The dark eyebrows raised. "Of course you can."
He extended his arm and wriggled it conspicuously.

"My sisters..."

"Are long since gone, having not found you, both have left and I have turned off your cell phone which you so unceremoniously dropped when you traipsed into the fur rack after answering both of their queries, and assuring them you were with me and would be taken care of tonight."

His explanation was so completely without precedent Maille forgot to be astonished. "You texted my sisters?"

"Their numbers conveniently appeared on your phonebook page." He gave her his arm, placing hers in the curve of it, he patted her hand.

Maille blinked out of her stupor. She tried to jerk her hand away, but he held it securely. "You are completely safe in my care." He said rather stoically, as a gentle man would have.

"I don't even know your name.'' She stammered arriving at the locked door in thunderstruck awe.

"Your sisters trust me with your care, do you trust them?" he insisted.

"I don't know that you called them. I only have your word that you said you did. Who are you? Give me my phone back!"

"My word is my bond, Maille Mann." He drew himself up to his full height, and looked down his nose at her, as if daring her to question his authority.

"Give me my phone." She said, digging in her bare feet. "Right now, or I'll scream for help."

He glanced around as if trying to figure out why she would waste her breath. Then pulled her phone from his pocket.

His eyes pleaded into hers with that strange light and intensity. "Come with me to eat, Maille Mann. I am completely safe. I'm gay. I won't molest you." The tone was so low, so unfeigned, unlike the more superior attitude he'd copped earlier, she stopped and stared at him.