There was a tall woman standing in the middle of the tables covered in vibrant fabrics. She wore plain clothes, glasses, and seemed to be pouring herself over some books she had placed on a smaller, separate table. Moira was glaring at this woman, and Artie had no idea why until Moira spoke.
"I believe I requested a tailor well acquainted with men's wear." Moira's tone was crisp and the tailor's head spun quickly. She was flustered, and pushed up her glasses as they began to fall down her face. When she finally looked in Artie and Moira's direction, Artie got a good look at her face. Her eyes were a bright, emerald green, and paired with her brown hair and her thick, thick glasses, Artie had a feeling she easily blended into the background. Artie had a feeling that was what she wanted. Artie would have thought her charming, if her eyes hadn't glowed slightly when they made contact with her own.
