Blackwood Grove, Fandom to Baltimore's Anchor Market, Monday Afternoon

[witchoftheflesh]

Okay, so...Adrian's Market jaunt had been pushed back a few days. Mostly because Pam, Rey, and Lydia had all told him that they were coming along with him. Adrian had tried - briefly, and not well - to point out why that was a terrible and dangerous idea, but all of his arguments against had been taken as arguments for and eventually Adrian had bowed to the inevitable and given in.

But they couldn't just go in. They needed a plan and, even more importantly, they needed disguises.

So first, a meeting here to figure out their story and get them all into the proper disguises, and then it was off to the Market.

If he were going anywhere that wasn't crawling with warlocks, Gilgamesh's enforcers, and had a slave pit to boot, Adrian would almost be excited. Sadly, that was exactly what each Market was like and so he was filled with dread instead.

"Do you think that they'll be more willing to listen to reason and stay here today?" he asked Boston.

The cat didn't even deign to reply, just opened one baleful eye long enough to look at him and then closed it again to nap.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Me neither."

[For the aforementioned ladies please!]

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[witchoftheflesh]

"You...look perfect, actually," Adrian admitted. "Are you okay? Those shoes don't look comfortable."

[mustbeawitch]

"Oh, no, they're horrid," Lydia assured him, "but I mean to make the best of it." At this rate she would be able to summon up a really solid notice-me-not if they had need of it.

[witchoftheflesh]

Adrian also had plenty of those! Lookaways and Neverminds, both!

"Let me just get Pam and Rey set up with their potions and we'll be ready to go," he said. Pouring out a mug of a cloudy, murky blue liquid for both women, Adrian then drained the rest of the bottle. The results were not instantaneous, but it did work quickly. In just a moment or two, there was man standing before her just oozing smarm and punchability. He still had Adrian's tall, lean body and olive skin, but his dark hair was slicked back like an old-style gangster's, and his slim-fit Italian suit was even more atrocious. It was still black, but the faux-velvet fabric had a gaudy fleur de lis pattern. Bran, who'd been lying in the grass at his feet, had been transformed into a raven-topped cane.

"See, manosphere," Boston muttered, jumping down from the porch to saunter to Adrian.

[mustbeawitch]

Lydia sighed wistfully. "I suppose it was too much to hope to get him into another color," she muttered to Boston.

[witchoftheflesh]

"Never had a chance," Boston said.

Once he reached his witch, Adrian tugged at his suit jacket and Boston jumped in the air--and then vanished. "He's in one of my coat pockets," Adrian explained.

[mustbeawitch]

"That's ever so convenient," Lydia said. "Wickham certainly wouldn't fit in any of my pockets." If her current outfit had pockets, which it decidedly did not.

Just you wait, Adrian. She'd gotten Miss Lambe to put off those horrid greys. She'd get you into a color yet.