Monthly Bonus Content #2: 'Dress to Impress' (Reese Version) (Patreon)

[Alternate Text: An image of organized ties in multiple, square cubbies to create an almost tile-like background of rolled silk; there are an array of colors. 'Dress to Impress' acts as the title in a strong font, while 'Reese' is beneath it in elegant script.]

"…Is it to your liking, Mister Verner?"

Reese continues to scrutinize the suit jacket nestled within a garment bag. He runs the tips of his fingers along one of its pressed lapels, still feeling a faint warmth left from the steaming process that the dry cleaner promises to perform by hand. Each seam, panel of fabric, and accent line of detailing lays exactly as it should to convey a perfectly put together look; it's runway ready.

He only wants the very best for today.

A limited edition, Armani suit is superlative in most every regard, and yet, Reese is searching for a flaw while lingering in the shop. Mr. Roy's anxious fidgeting alludes to how this extended visit is going over; the Verners are one of his most valuable clients. "It is brilliant as always," he distractedly reassures the man. "My ties?"

"Oh, right! I still need to sort them, one second."

Organizing the medley of fabric will definitely take longer than a single second, but he can respect how Mr. Roy tries to create a color gradient or rainbow out of the silken strips. It's thoughtful, even if Reese eventually redoes the order for his closet. He further unzips the garment bag once done with his assessment, slipping on the tailored suit jacket with practiced ease to check just how wrinkle-resistant it truly is.

While time, distance, and circumstances are all beyond his control, this outfit certainly isn't, but would a former, childhood rival care about such things? It's about making an impression when arriving at galas; this isn't that. He is unsure how to categorize it aside from the fact that he cleared most of his morning schedule to free up time for a lengthy drive around town.

It's a little pathetic, really…

What if you don't care to remember him?

"Is there a full length mirror anywhere?" Reese poses the question a touch sharply, growing irritated at no one except himself. Mr. Roy isn't back yet, which leaves a far less pleasant alternative. He settles on fastening a tasteful amount of buttons before turning to fix the dry cleaner's son with a pointed look; he is too focused on a handheld game. "Kyle?" The teenager pops in an earbud with blatant disregard, fishing out the other end from his pocket while Reese simply stares him down. "I wouldn't."

His warning is heeded, though he could have done without the eye roll and muttered curse.

"You look the exact same; it's fifty shades of black as usual. Why's it matter?"

"A long overdue meeting," Reese crisply answers with the hint of a cool smile. "Now, the mirror?" He glances at where Kyle gestures, spotting a sliver of the reflective glass that is hidden behind a clothing rack. He moves it to once again perform a self-inspection that is more intensive than the typical one before leaving his room. No stray hairs, strings, or lint would be a much easier checklist than looking for anything flawed or unsatisfactory; it's too open-ended and can invite negative thoughts.

But it's safer to be your own worst critic.

Reese adopts a dazzling smile that most of Fernweh's citizens would eat up, but will it stay intact when faced with you? Your absence isn't something he ever smiled over. His eyes flick away from his routine expression, averting to the clock on the wall when his pager beeps out a noisy reminder that this free time is quite limited.

"Mister Verner? I promise I have them now."

"Thank you," Reese replies, stepping away from the mirror to collect his ties. He politely nods at Mr. Roy's farewell about seeing him again next week; they have a long-standing order. His sunglasses are slipped on before he bothers to retrieve his car keys, marginally relaxing when they are in place and he is once again in Angelique.

Always riding with the convertible's top down doesn't afford a great sense of privacy, but it's his space. Circling the town square for a third time would attract attention, which leaves him with cruising around elsewhere until time runs out. Reese wants to see you for himself without a pre-planned meeting or advanced notice that would only mask true reactions.

He needs to see that realization—that honest recognition—if there is any to be had. It has been years, but your return dredges up events from around the time of your departure that should stay in the past. Reese almost tried to leave you there as well, but here he is looking.

Searching for something best left forgotten…

…A rival because friends were too hard for him.

A vibrant blot of orange draws his attention away from the frozen stoplight he is currently suffering through, even though there are hardly any cars out. That's a bold choice. He observes the person in the hoodie, noting how the few citizens going about their day seem to be doing the same thing in a much more obvious way. It takes a second for him to realize what could merit attention from Fernweh's community.

A visitor…?

The half-formed thought dissipates when he sees that the sentient orange juice box isn't alone.

It's you.

It must be.

The light charitably changes to green just as the front end of the convertible edges over the line. He treats the empty parallel parking spaces as an extra lane, modulating his curiosity into a charm that would turn most heads, except yours isn't. "…Hey Stranger!"

When you look at Reese, he can't bring himself to perform an assessment or to gauge what that expression means; instead, he smiles. "You have kept me waiting." There is more truth to that than he would like to admit. "I was wondering when I would finally run into you, [Surname]."