DC: Courting Vipers ch 6

Chapter 6: Nothing Suits Me Like A Suit


How did I ever get myself into this situation?

The thought ran through Luiz’s mind more than once as they approached their destination.  To a degree, this was a nuisance: Leslie was a presumptuous little rich girl who was too naïve to take him seriously, hence she did things like dragging him out to go suit-shopping.  On the other hand, she genuinely appeared to be interested in him, and persisted in trying to build a friendship.  And that wasn’t something he’d had before.  Still, he really should have tried harder to scare her witless when they’d first met at the mall.  Maybe if he had, he would have succeeded in his plan and would be out somewhere living large, instead of stuck here in Gotham, constantly getting caught over and over.

“What’s on your mind?” Leslie asked abruptly.  He glanced sideways at her and grinned slyly, bearing his fangs.

“Scaring you.” He replied.

“Don’t make jokes like that, it isn’t funny!” she spluttered, going bright red.

“I wasn’t joking.” He answered with a low chuckle.

“Do you want me to get you a suit or not?”

“Not really, no.”

“That was supposed to be a rhetorical question.  You were supposed to not answer.”

“Lo siento.”

“No, you’re not; don’t even lie to me.  Ah!  We’re here!”

She parked the Hummer outside what appeared to be a rather swanky-looking boutique with a French word for a name.  Luiz didn’t even want to try pronouncing it.  Something about this gave him an ominous feeling.  Leslie had to half-pry his tail off of the seat and practically dragged him into the store.

The inside of the boutique looked at least ten times swankier than the outside, and the first thing to really steal Luiz’s attention was the smell.  The shop was fragrant in a way he wasn’t familiar with, the scents of high-end clothing blending with something more aromatic that excited his sense of smell.  After that, he started to notice the clothes.  Most of them looked more expensive than anything he had ever seen, except perhaps on television, and some of the women’s dresses alone looked like they were worth more than many things he’d stolen before.  But he barely had time to ponder that from a thief’s perspective before his attention was seized again.

“Sophie, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.” Leslie suddenly said, grabbing him by the arm.  “I want you to make a suit for him.”

And he found himself staring, face-to-face, with a short, bespectacled woman with messy, electric-blue hair on a partially-shaved head.  If Luiz had had to guess this woman’s name based solely upon her appearance, “Sophie” would never have crossed his mind.

“You want me to make a suit for this?” She said, affronted, as she gestured at him.

“Hey!” He said indignantly, instantly angry.

“Leslie darling, why do you bring me these hopeless cases?” Sophie tutted as she slowly started to stroll around Luiz, examining him.

“‘Hopeless cases?’” He repeated angrily, his tail thrashing.

“But you can make him a suit, can’t you?” Leslie asked, looking worried.

“Pooh bear,” Sophie began, flipping strands of her electric blue hair out of her eyes, “I am Sophie.  I can make any suit.  But this job won’t be easy.  Claude!  Bo!  Where are you, boys?  Sophie needs you both!”

No sooner had she started snapping her fingers than two men appeared to materialize at her sides, men who glittered and sparkled as their shimmering, matching vests caught the light.  Instantly they began shaking their heads and tutting their disapproval.  Luiz gave Leslie a look of utmost skepticism.

“You want these people to make me a suit?” He asked doubtfully.

“Relax,” she said with an infuriatingly upbeat smile, “I know Sophie and the guys are a little flashy, but I promise you won’t come out covered in sequins.”

“Oh sure I won’t,” he snorted as Claude and Bo started to drag him behind a fitting screen, “Pooh bear.”



“Tony, stop that.”

“Stop what?” He asked, startled out of his thinking.

“Looking like you’re brooding over something,” Steven said, rummaging about the kitchen for his stash of green tea, “You know better.  Only I’m allowed to look like that.”

Tony said nothing but leaned back in his chair and unfolded his arms with a bit of a sigh.

“Fine.” He muttered, only exaggerating his tone a little.

“What do you have to brood over, anyway?” Steven asked with a bit of a nasty edge.  “What, did you break a hockey stick or something?  Forget a girl’s phone number?”

“Ah-ha-ha, very funny,” Tony said sarcastically, “You should be a stand-up comic.”

His older brother glared at him a moment, then furrowed his brow in thought.

“You know, now that I think about it, you’ve been doing this on and off since that night Leslie said she had a guy in her room.” He remarked, and as Tony’s face started to burn in surprise and guilt, his brother’s eyes widened.  “You know something about that, don’t you?  You freakin’ know something!  Spill it, you big jock!”

Tony spun around from his seat at the counter and glowered at Steven.

“It’s none of your business, jerkwad.”

“Spill to me, or I’ll tell our parents, and then you’ll have to tell all of us.”

“Not gonna happen.  Don’t you have any respect for our sister’s privacy, man?”

“Uh, no.” Steven snorted, abandoning his tea at the counter before flying out of the galley kitchen.  It took Tony a second to register what his brother was up to, and he stumbled, breaking into a run after Steven.  Their sister was going to hate them by the end of the day.



Pins hurt.

They really hurt.

Pins especially hurt when they’re being jabbed at sensitive spots all along the base of a tail.  Luiz was learning this firsthand and the more pain he had to put up with, the shorter his temper was getting.  Ignoring the fact that of all the indignities he was being made to suffer, having his tail yanked and prodded was one of them, he didn’t appreciate pain at all.

“This had better be worth it,” he growled in a low voice, “Or I’m gonna tear off your fingers, shimmer twins.”

Claude and Bo exchanged a roll of the eyes, and deliberately tightened the waist of his slacks being fitted until he let out a high yelp.

“Guys, be nice in there!” Leslie called from the other side of the screens.

“We are!” Claude and Bo chorused defensively.

“No, they’re not, they’re lying!” he wheezed as he squirmed to give his tail some more room.  “I can barely breathe!  I think I may be getting a vague understanding of how women who wore corsets centuries ago always felt!”

“Guys!” came the exasperated cry, “I said to fit him for a suit, not kill him!”

Silently, Luiz tried to imagine how many sequins the two men would shed if he found a way to clothesline them for revenge.  His mind jumped away from that, almost immediately suspicious.  How could he be sure this Sophie and her pin-sticking minions wouldn’t go to the police about his presence?  Sensible people would—although whoever lived in Gotham from day to day was subject to scrutiny concerning how “sensible” they were.  Of course, there was always the possibility that these people had no clue who he was…

That’s ridiculous, he thought acidly, Even if they don’t, any person with two brain cells to rub together would be scared of a guy who’s part-snake.  Ah, well.  If they do call the cops, I’ll just use little Miss Princess as a hostage again.

Yeah right, Luiz, some slightly more sardonic part of his mind responded, because that worked so well with Batman.

“Copper?” Leslie’s voice broke into his musings, tentative and low.  “Are you okay?  You’re being kinda quiet.  You guys didn’t strangle him, did you?”

“Ha!” He laughed mirthlessly.  “No, not that they would have a lot of luck if they tried.”

He expected to get another pin jabbed into unmentionably painful places for that one, but the men in the vests turned away to begin comparing notes with Sophie.

“Well, don’t scare me like that!” Leslie scolded.

“Kind of pointless, telling me not to scare you,” he remarked back, peering around the corner of the screens and flashing a toothy smile at her, “Because I like doing that.”

She frowned but before either of them could say a thing, he was yanked back by Sophie, who tutted and fussed for a moment before forcing him to raise his arms to the sides.  He complied more out of being startled than anything, and founded a silky-soft shirt was being slipped on him.  The woman snapped at him to button the shirt up, and then afterward bent his arms at an angle to put an over-shirt and suit jacket on.  He barely had time to glance down at the sleeves before they pushed him along in front of the unfolding multi-angle mirrors.

This whole experience felt extremely bizarre.

“How does it look?” Leslie asked, and it was only then that he really started to take in his appearance.  Despite the fact the pants were being held up with pins, the suit overall looked incredibly crisp and sleek.  And if he disregarded his obviously inhuman traits, Luiz found he looked good in a suit.  Not gentlemanly, per se, but good.

“Oh, looking sharp, Copper!” A voice purred behind him, and he caught sight of Leslie in the mirror, smiling and waggling her eyebrows.  Heat started to creep into his face and he scowled back at her.

The second I say something about sexual harassment, the cynical part of him thought, she’s going to twist it against me.

Idiot! The rest of his brain argued back. She’s paying you a compliment, whatever her expression suggests.  Just take the win.

“Thanks.” His mouth mumbled quietly.

“Indeed,” Sophie spoke up briskly, “Don’t I always work miracles?”

“What’s going on with the slacks though?” Leslie asked, walking up to him and gesturing at the pins around his hips.

“We’ll have to do a little fast custom work,” the seamstress admitted, “Tails are tricky.”

“But you can do it, can’t you?” Leslie asked.

“Of course we can and in just a couple of hours.  I’ve had clients with tails before.  But we’ll need to distractions.  Have him change and the two of you can go do something out of the way.  Go walk around the rest of the shopping plaza or something.  Bo, lock up and shut everything down; we’ve got work to do.”



Two sets of eyes stared coldly at Tony, who swallowed hard.  To his side, he could feel Steven looking smugly triumphant, and had to resist the urge to give his brother a solid punch on the shoulder.

“Well, Anthony?” His mother demanded in a crisp, curt tone.  “Is this true?”

He bit his lower lip, chewing nervously.  If he told the truth, Leslie was probably never going to forgive him and feel he had betrayed her trust.  If he didn’t tell the truth… well, that wasn’t an option, because his parents would know he was lying.  After all, he’d never really been good at it, not the way Steven and Leslie learned how to lie through their teeth.

“Have you been helping your sister keep this secret from us?” His father chimed in.

Tony had no choice; lying just wasn’t an option in this case.  Shutting his eyes, he lowered his head and slowly nodded.



“You know, you haven’t told me your real reason for doing this.”

Leslie looked up from her phone and pursed her lips as her blue eyes slipped to the Metahuman, hidden once again in the oversized trench coat.  At least he’d had the sense to ditch the hat, and was walking next to her with his head uncovered.  Really, he looked rather handsome without his ridiculous costume.  And now he was eyeing her in a shrewd, calculating way.  He was also rather cleverer than one might have thought.

“Beg pardon?” she asked, pretending to simper a little, and his amber eyes narrowed in open irritation.

“You’ve got some other motivation for doing this, making these people tailor me a suit.  Why don’t you just tell me what it is?” he asked.

“What if I really don’t have a motivation besides trying to help you look sharp?”

“Then you really are as shallow as I first thought and everything you told me during that one car ride was all one really elaborate lie.”

That stung deep.  She stopped walking and stared at him, trying to blink back tears.  How could he say that to her so nonchalantly?  Did she really seem that shallow?  She thought he had understood…  It took him a second to realize she wasn’t walking right next to him, and he also quickly came to a halt, looking back at her in surprise.  After a moment he winced, looking somewhat taken aback.

“Okay, that was a low blow.” He admitted.

“You think?!” she scoffed, crossing her arms.  “What, just because I’m some rich little white girl, I’m not allowed to splurge and buy a friend a gift?”

“Wha—I—but—ehh…” he spluttered, trailing off into uncertainty.  Leslie raised her eyebrows in challenge, and he sighed.  “Would you stop that?  You know that’s not what I meant.  And why can’t you just tell me why you’re doing this?”

“Do I really need a reason?” she countered.

“I’d prefer one.” He replied smoothly, walking back up to her.

“Fine,” she said quickly in a bit of a huff, “I’m doing this because nothing suits you like a suit.  Nothing suits any guy like a suit.”

“Isn’t that the name of some Broadway song or something?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Are you really quoting a musical to respond to my question, princesa?”

“Why does it matter if I am or I’m not?  Sounds like you aren’t willing to believe or trust anything I say anyway.”

He went very still, closing his mouth and working his jaw as those gold eyes studied her face.  She stared back, patiently waiting to see if he would try to continue the argument.  After a moment or two, Luiz’s thin nostrils flared a bit as he inhaled and exhaled in frustration, his shoulders rolling forward in a bit of a slouch.

“Jesús Christo, you are annoying on so many levels; you know that?  Besides, all you did just now was essentially rephrase the reason you already gave me.”

“And you accused me of being a stereotypically shallow heiress.  That hurts, especially after I opened up to you the way I did.  Why should I grace that with my real reasoning?”

He frowned in a guilty sort of way at that, hunching his shoulders uncomfortably.  He glanced away, casting his gaze about restlessly as though trying to think of something to say to that.  Finally, he looked at his feet in a resigned way before tilting his gaze up to her again, eyes wide and apologetic.

“You know, you’re not really good at looking like a sad, kicked puppy,” Leslie muttered, crossing her arms and sticking her chin out to the side, “Your eyes kind of ruin it a little.”

His eyes went even wider as his lip started to quiver and he said in an overly-crushed voice, “What, I don’t look pathetic enough for you?”

Leslie’s own lips began to quiver as she fought to keep from smiling, but it was no use.  A snorting laugh burst out of her and she doubled over from giggling.

“Oh, no,” she wheezed between giggles, “You’re plenty pathetic, doll-face!”

“Only when I want to be,” he replied somewhat stiffly, but when she looked up, he was smiling in his roguish way as he smoothed out the trench coat he was wearing.  The sight of it made something unexpected pop into Leslie’s mind.

“Aren’t you overheating in that tacky old thing?”

He blinked, thrown by the unanticipated question for an instant, before his smile widened and he chuckled.  It was a low, rolling sound, the sort that gave Leslie pleasant shivers.

“Not too familiar with reptiles are you, huh?  No, I’m not overheating.  I’ve suspected for a long time I may actually be cold-blooded, literally.” He answered with a mild shrug.

“Huh.  Talk about irony!” Leslie mused, shaking her head with a dry chuckle and stroking her chin in mock thought.  “A cold-blooded snake-man, who’d have thought?”

He gave her a flat look.

“You need to work on your sarcasm, princesa.”

She replied with a smile, but if she had been planning on saying anything, she was cut off by a timely chime of her phone receiving a text message.  She retrieved it from her pocket, recognizing Sophie’s number immediately.

“I think they’ve finished your suit.”

“Already?” he asked in surprise.

“I told you Sophie’s good.” She said with a wry smile.

“…alright,” Luiz admitted begrudgingly when they were back in the shop and he was trying on the suit in front of the mirrors again, “She’s good.”

“But of course!” the woman in question said with a dramatic flourish.  “I am Sophie!  You won’t find better in Gotham City than my work, darling.”

“Are you sure about that?  Because I’m pretty sure I’ve stolen from better.” Luiz asked, letting out a yelp when Bo took the chance to jab him one last time with a pin.

“There is no better in Gotham.” Sophie answered with a sly smirk.  “Be grateful, snake-man.  Miss Smith has really taken a shine to you, ordering this suit and settling the tab for you and everything.  This is a gift, so learn to appreciate it.”

He tossed the diminutive fashionista a frown, though he kept quiet.  Something about her words nagged at him.  ‘Learn to appreciate it?’  What was that supposed to mean?  Was that referring to the suit, Leslie, Leslie’s offer of friendship, her energetic generosity, or all of those things combined?  Rolling his eyes, he moved past her, seeking out Leslie where she was seated on a chair.  Her eyes were practically glued to the screen of her phone, and her expression was bordering on devastated.  Probably some stupid post on Twitter or Instagram or whatever.  He unconsciously began to swagger a little as he walked toward her, hoping to get her attention.

“So what do you think, chica; am I looking good?”

She gave a small jump and looked up at him, staring wide-eyed as though he were a complete stranger.  She said nothing, but gave a firm nod as she slid off of Sophie's chair.

What the heck? Luiz’s mouth fell slightly ajar as he watched her.  What was going on with her now?  Inexplicably, this felt something like a cold slap to the face.

“I’ve gotta go.” She muttered quickly in a glum voice he had never heard her use before, and she spun on her heel, charging toward the door without so much as another word or a backwards glance.