Aodhan took a sip of his whiskey and savored the warmth that spread through his chest. It was a welcome respite from the biting cold outside, and the perfect accompaniment to the lively chatter that filled the room. He had heard about this place, Mordha, from his clients who spoke of it in hushed tones, as if it were a secret society that only the privileged few knew about.

Despite not knowing where the bar was located, the picture Aodhan's mind fabricated by inventing the missing details was more than enticing enough to go in search, a bar made up of hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them competing with the band that dominates the atmosphere. The perfect thing to stop the endless carousel of his thoughts from spinning to a sinister tune.

Snow danced in the dwindling afternoon light, a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind and threatened to bury the tailor in a gift-wrap only the morning's sun could unwrap should he keep at his fruitless wandering.

Aodhan had yet to master the art of being alone, a craft any reasonable person might've thought twenty-seven years of practice as an only child and no meaningful circle of friends to speak of would have would've made him a maestro. But alas.

Thankfully he found his treasure before the threat of hypothermia sent him scurrying home. Small pellets of snow-melt bounced off his clothes with every move he made inside, leaving a trail of small puddles to mark his route from the front door to the bar, to his seat by the hearth.

The chattering of of Aodhan's jaw had barely stopped, soothed by the whiskey he nursed, when an unfamiliar figure loomed, hand extended. "Ah, Sir Elliot Moore, good to meet you," he said, perking a brow and pushing back a thick wet mop of hair from his forehead. Without much thought, he reached to take the man's extended hand, only realising when it was too late that it too was wet with snow melt. "Uh, apologies," he murmured, retracting his hand, a sheepish smile pulling on his lips as the heat of shame rose red in his cheeks. "Aodhan Feron, I work in The Duke's Dressing, a tailor's, glad to meet you," he said, trying to push through the faux-pas. "This is an impressive place you've built for yourself, and an equally impressive reputation it's earned." Aodhan said, craning his neck to take in a sweep of his surroundings, "I thought it better to see it in person than to continue hearing about it through the stories of my clients."

While it was true that most of the costumers at Mordha were nobles, Elliot had made sure that commoners were also welcome here. They might get a dirty look now and then, but generally it was a peaceful and welcoming place. It had been his goal to create a safe space for men where they could escape from the women for a while and enjoy their time without their wives nagging them for god knows which reason they can come up with. He liked women, but if he wanted their company, he would visit a brothel.

Elliot had approached an unfamiliar face and had introduced himself. After the man had shook his hand, Elliot sat down in another chair by the hearth. The young man was drenched thanks to the wet snow that was falling outside. A smart move to choose a seat by the fire, then.

"Aodhan Feron", he repeated with a smile. He slapped his knees and then left his hands on them. "A tailor! What a wonderful profession." He pointed at the man. "There is quite some competition in Loren, tailor wise." Elliot laughed and put the hand back in his knees. He had mostly visited Oriana's shop, and he was still very satisfied with the suits she had made him, although their date had left him quite unsatisfied. They hadn't spoken since.

Aodhan complimented the club, and Elliot looked around his club for a moment, letting out a satisfied sigh before returning his attention to the man. "Well thank you, mister Aodhan!" Elliot said. "It's great to hear it has gained a reputation already, and that it's an impressive one!" The older man winked and took a puff from his cigar. "You're certainly more than welcome to experience Mordha for yourself! Did you only recently start working at The Duke's Dressing? I'm not sure I've been by the place before."

Aodhan's grin widened at Elliot's question. "Unfortunately for me, I've been in the business all my life. My father owns the place," he announced, his voice heavy with an exaggerated sigh of resignation. The familiar pang of envy flared beneath his skin as he looked at Elliot - a man who had built something of his own, unlike Aodhan, who wallowed in the very short shadow of an unimpressive father. "And he's not the type to turn up free labor, regardless of whether it's his own son or not," he added with a wry chuckle.

"Well, we tend to trade exclusively in menswear, and so when a place like this opens up, my clients are keen to discuss it away from any woman's prying ears," he explained, savouring the smooth, amber liquid of his whiskey.

"And of course, all the usual things I'm sure you're also used to hearing," he added with a knowing smile. Aodhan had heard it all before, the complaints of husbands and boyfriends alike, seeking respite from their female counterparts- a world of romance and companionship he had only ever experienced vicariously.

The warmth in his smile cooled, and Aodhan's eyes flickered to the crackling flames in the hearth. He had always felt like an outsider in the world of romance, a spectator peering through the foggy window of other people's lives. Duty had been his lot in life, his every waking moment consumed by the endless demands of the family business. As he traced the soft wool of his coat, he felt the heat of the fire seep into his clothes, thawing him from the frigid grip of the outside world. He breathed in the smoky, woodsy scent and savoured the sensation of tension easing from his shoulders.

"It's not too different of a world than the one you cultivate here, I imagine," Aodhan said, his fingers lingering on the texture of the wool. "Or maybe it is when alcohol is involved, you tell me." He arched an eyebrow and took another sip of his drink, a curious quirk touching the corner of his eye.

If only Aodhan really knew how Elliot had managed to buy and own this place. But he was about to tell the kid. "Aha, I see", he said. "I'm no stranger to that sort of business relationship. My father, may he rest in peace, was a businessman and I helped him with his shop and guarded the stall whenever we set up a table at the marketplace. Luckily I got paid a little when I got older, and eventually I took over the entire business. My mother had gotten sick and it was best that my father quit the business to spend time with her." The man left out the fact that he kind of pressured his father into quitting and that he made the man sign over the rights of the business to him. Elliot had quickly turned the business into a shady one. Apart from legitimate items, he would also deal in stolen and fake jewelry. But he had gotten too old for those shenanigans. Or so he thought. "But eventually I got tired of running a business. With the money I had made, I bought this place, and the rest is history." He laughed and took another puff of the cigar.

"Men's wear you say? I ought to stop by one day then!" He smiled widely at the young man and took a sip of his whiskey to accompany the taste of his cigar. He chuckled some more when Aodhan mentioned the other things. He knew damn well how tired men could get of their women. Another reason he had never bothered to settle down with one.

He could sense that the tailor got lost in thought, noticing the corners of his mouth lowering slightly while he was looking at the fire. Elliot was not one to concern himself with other's thought and feelings much, but he did have an observant eye. Aodhan had started to fiddle with the fabric of his coat. Perhaps the kid was stressed?

The older man laughed warmly again. "I suppose you're right. Alcohol does mean the occasional bar fight." He stroked his chin. "A few nights ago a man confronted another man about sleeping with his wife. It wasn't pretty. But Homer threw them out. I want this to be a place where men can unwind. We don't need drama like that here." Homer, the bouncer, had taken care of it swiftly and quickly. "So tell me, does a tailor have a lot of free time, or is this a rare occasion for you?"

"It would be an honour to have you as a customer," he announced in a practiced tone. As the words left his lips, he couldn't help but feel like a well-oiled machine, trained to deliver a practiced response with a smile that never quite reached his eyes. But then something shifted within him, and he spoke again, this time with a hint of sincerity in his voice. "Truly, it would be a pleasure to have you visit us, Sir Elliot," he said, replacing his polished smile with something softer.

Aodhan allowed himself to sink into the plush armchair, a leg lazily slung over the other, outstretched to catch the warmth of the hearth. Elliot's story led Aodhan's thoughts to his own future, a topic usually strictly off-limits, even in the confines of his own mind, lest the weight of duty crush any inkling of hope..The Duke's Dressing was hardly the most profitable venture in all of Loren but tailoring was an expensive game, the stores of fabrics alone might launch him into a new life. Could he really have a life like Elliot's, one filled with freedom and possibility? A faint light of hope flickered in his eyes before the ever-present knot in his gut twisted, and he pushed the thoughts aside.

Elliot's tale of a recent bar fight caught Aodhan's attention, pulling him back to the present moment and erasing any thoughts of a far-off future. A joyful, uninhibited laugh burst forth from Aodhan, rising above the crackling fire and the hum of conversation. "It seems I missed quite the spectacle," he chuckled, mischief dancing in his eyes like flames. The amber liquid in his glass caught the firelight, casting a golden glow across his expression as he savoured a sip. "You're making me regret not being there," he joked, sinking deeper into the plush armchair. "But I'm sure there will be plenty more entertainment to come."

Conversation inevitably slid back to The Duke's Dressing and pulled Aodhan upright, straighter, suddenly more alert. "Tailoring is a demanding profession," he said, his voice tinged with weariness. "But it's also incredibly rewarding." He tried to inject conviction into his words and found himself falling short, his thoughts drifting back to the countless hours spent consumed by work. "I could spend an entire lifetime working without pause, I'm learning that I must draw the line somewhere," he said, his rueful smile belying the weariness in his voice. "But who knows, maybe I'll find some free time to stop by here and unwind."

Aodhan's interest was ignited, and he leaned in, his gaze alight with a fervent curiosity. "Though I must ask, what drew you to open a gentleman's club of all things?