In the car, on the final leg of the trip to Johann's Tailoring, you pull out your smart phone and shoot Lisa a quick e-mail.
If she was serious about a date, it couldn't hurt to get into contact. If she wasn't it couldn't hurt to find out what she meant by her note.
Dear Lisa,
I was most pleased to meet you acquaintance. And I hope by contacting you so soon, that I am not being overly forward.
I am busy for the next few days, with family and the holiday, but would be amiable to meeting you over the break. Please let me know what would work best for you, as my schedule is rather free.
I admit, I'm not quite sure to make of the rest of your note.
Yours,
Theo Anders
You are almost to Johann's shop when your phone buzzes with her reply.
Theo,
I see great things coming from our meeting. 
Anytime next week works for me, besides aren't boys supposed to decide that kind of stuff? I know boys are supposed to give their numbers to girls too, but I just couldn't resist when I saw you.
And the note means what you THINK it means.
I feel the same way about my 'uncle' as you do your father, we might be able to help each other out.
Hoping to hear from you after your party,
Lisa
Definitely a thinker then, she all but confirmed it. You are going to have to figure out an appropriate time to meet her with some sort of backup in case its a trap. Someone you can trust to do as told.
Or arrange for the 'date' to happen at an Empire restaurant, where you'd have some sort of immediate backup if things go south.
She did give you a blank check to decide what to do with the date.
There were a few establishments on the Boardwalk that were very nice, and the view over the bay was nice/romantic at night (or so you've heard from the girls in your circle).
Not to mention there was
Braum's over on K street, within Empire territory, that was sure to dazzle any girl.
Your wealth could intimidate her, maybe something a little less upper class? Ease her into how stupidly rich you (the Anders family) are for this city.
She is a thinker. She could be laying a trap for you, you could lay one in return. It would be difficult to gather a competent and loyal crew in such a short amount of time.
Where Theo meets Lisa:
[] A more neutral location like somewhere on the Boardwalk, would require some sort of backup. But capable of being up to snuff.
[]
Braum's or a similar establishment. Dinner AND Dancing.
[] Something a little more upper middle class(On edge of Empire territory), as not to intimidate with wealth, but still enough to wow. Followed by a movie?
[] Set a trap for Lisa, its only right to be cautious.
[] Write in
You would have to send her an e-mail later as you have arrived at Johann's to get your suit and the beginnings of a nice wardrobe, though at most you'll only have two suits at the end of the day. One perfectly tailored (and much nicer) and one sized correctly.
You'll have to visit a more standard clothing store to replace the majority of your clothes.
When you enter, neither you or your father expected to hear, before you even greeted Old Johann, such strange and embarrassing words. Nor did either of you expect to see an attractive Middle Eastern girl.
"See young Theo here! You should marry someone like him, Sabah! A proper upstanding white gentleman! Not some sand nigger trash. A good Arab girl like you deserves better. Marry up, girl, up!"
The double surprise sent you and Max into indignant and surprised sputtering. You'll have to cherish the memory later of your father being caught with his metaphorical pants down by words. The girl, Sabah, sputtered in indignity and outrage.
Just like that, you are caught up in Johann's pace.
"Max, Theo," Johann greets you jovially, "here, give me your coats! Max, we shall go drink coffee while Sabah earns her paycheque. Sabah, Theo needs a whole wardrobe, get him started, while an old man indulges in his coffee!"
And your father is whisked away, leaving you and a woodenly smiling Sabah.
"Hello," she gets out around her gritted smiling teeth, "Welcome to Johann's Tailoring. My name is Sabah and I will be assisting you today."
"Hello, Theo," you approach her and offer a hand, "I'm sorry, you have my empathy. Johann has been like that for longer than I've known him."
You tap the exposed skin on your wrist with your free hand. You then indicate yourself and shake your head.
Her smile relaxes a little bit into something a little more genuine, as she takes you hand and eyes your baggy, ill-fitting clothing with a critical eye.
"You really do need a new wardrobe don't you? What happened?"
"My clothes that fit are no longer usable. And I do need a whole wardrobe. I must apologize in advance, I don't know my current sizes."
Not a lie, but certainly not the whole truth.
Sabah still gives you a slightly suspicious look. And then realization at what you said settles in and a blush erupts on her face.
"Not even underwear? You
are wearing something, correct?"
You nod.
"Ill-fitting as it is, I am
not going commando."
There's some more blushing on both your parts as you get your waist (you have to repress the arousal, her breath tickles your lower belly when she leans in a bit too close) and a few other things measured(you don't quite succeed when she measures your inseam, but it only gets to half mast before she's done and makes no comment), and are ushered into a changing room to put on a new pair, and a new undershirt.
"You know," you muse through the curtain, "Johann might be wrong. You might not be an Arab by his standards. If you aren't, I bet he'll stop giving you a hard time."
"My family fled Iraq in the late 70s," she calls from where she's presumable gathering jackets and pants close to your size, sounding like she's explaining something incredibly obvious.
"Why?" you ask genuinely curious.
"The government was deporting all the Moaved. We are Moaved. Instead of going back to Iran, my family came to America."
You muse on that for a second, and leave the changing room. Her blush is gone, and it doesn't make a quick return, despite how your undershirt clings to your new muscles. You take the offered shirt and put it on.
"So you're ethnically Iranian?"
"Yes," she answers in a confused tone and hands you some pants, "What does that have to do with being white?"
"Johann, if you didn't know, was born in Nazi Germany, and was in the Hitler Youth, but isn't very academic. He equates being white with being Aryan. But science and by the laws passed in Nazi Germany, Indo-Iranians or Persians, are Aryan. If you're ethnically Iranian, you're Aryan. Which will get him to stop calling you, or treating you like you're blessed to be mentored by him, or whatever."
Sabah stops everything she's doing and gives you the most incredulous look.
"You look like I killed your puppy," you say with amusement laced heavily in your voice.
"I'm white?!"
"You are Aryan," you correct, with a bit of a mocking tone, as you take the jacket from her, "Not the ideal Aryan, but better than any 'sub-human.' I only know because Father's something of a World War Two buff."
The silence that follows is a little uncomfortable for Sabah, you don't even need your powers to tell, as she measures and tacks the clothes. You probably did just upend her racial world view. Though you get a spectacular view down her shirt in return. She's even on her knees, while she's pinning your pants.
Maybe talk about something else? Until Johann gets back. You're a little surprised that your father hasn't come out of the backroom, covered in the old man's blood and still in shock.
"Why do you work here, if Johann upsets you so much?"
She looks up from pinning your sleeve.
"I'm a fashion design student," she explains around the pins in her mouth, "and the school isn't very informative on actually making suits, beyond following the pattern. Only Johann was hiring, and I was only hired because I was the only one to apply in the past few months. Apparently I've grown on him."
There's a little more silence as she switches sleeves, obviously contemplating her words.
"At first it was barely tolerable, cut an old man some slack right? Then I was deemed competent, and somehow it got worse. He goes on and on about me marrying a 'proper white gentleman' and 'purging the inferiority from my line.' And now, you've dropped the Aryan bomb on me."
She shakes her head, with a wry grin, and inspects her work.
"Looks alright, time to take it off and I'll get stitching."
And now you need something to pass the time since you've been abandoned by the other men in the building.
"Do you have a portfolio of your designs for me to look through while you work?"
The look you receive could be described as radiant. Soon, enough you are seated, leafing through a sketchbook, and listening to Sabah work on your suit.
It's quite good work. Lots of European, especially Classical Era, styles. You even spot a few of the more traditional Europeans styles. There's obviously some fusions or modern twists on those, and the new designs are very good as well.
The men's style section surprises you a bit, given that you thought all female fashion designers would design just female styles. But Sabah is here, working under Johann, learning how to make suits.
"A lot of European styles and inspirations in here," you comment offhandedly, eyeing Sabah out of the corner of your eye.
"European styles have evolved drastically over the centuries and decades. In comparison most other cultures has used the same basic styles for hundreds. Its interesting. Europe is interesting. Eventually I want to open my own shop, if I'm lucky, have my own line of Euro-inspired clothes for men and women."
A woman with ambition, and an admiration of (hopefully, it extends to the entirety of) European Culture.
What Theo should do now:
[] Ask Sabah if she wants to go to the party tonight, as a way to get her style out there. In return, you get a discount on a future commission. You get a beautiful girl on your arm, she gets exposure, and you also get a discount. You'll also have to explain yourself to your father.
[] Ask Sabah if she's taking commissions now. You could use a gift of a nice dress to butter up a girl, like Gwen or Kayden.
[] Sabah is a very nice (newly revealed) Aryan girl (and older), ask her out, as in a date. There will be
much explaining to be done.
[] Pass on asking her anything that doesn't just carry on the conversation. Fuck you're bored.
[] Write in
XP Gained: 4 xp
[] Bank
[] Purchase:
-[] Write in
======
Sabah thinks that telling Old Johann she's Indo-Iranian and therefore Aryan is going to get him to cut back on encouraging her to marry, she is very,
very,
very, wrong.
Edit: Tryna fix the Nazi dick-sucking.
