Author's Note: Holy moly. I wrote this a long time ago to fill a request for the 2011 FrUK October Lovefest in the what_the_fruk community on LiveJournal. I can't believe I never gave this to the requester. I'm awful. I think it's because I knew it was cheesy and inadequate. OTL Posting for the sake of history and closure.

The request: I'd really like an awesome office romance would be nice. Francis as maybe a fashion designer/photographer and Arthur as a lowly writer/tech guy. Like... The Office meets Devil Wears Prada!

Welp, I never watched Devil Wears Prada and when I wrote this, I don't know if I watched too much of The Office either. I wanted to fill as many prompts as possible back then though. I have no further comments besides words of caution because of its age. I didn't spruce it up. I hope you enjoy either way.

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Day 1: Enter Francis

A slight nod of acknowledgement was given to those who passed by the fashion designer, who carried around his shoulder a bag full of patterns, and various other things related to his work. In his mouth was a croissant and in his other hand was a hot beverage, which he knew would be cold by the time he reached his destination. Passing through the swarm of people who littered the streets was always difficult, but it was an almost every day task—excluding Sundays and Mondays, the days which the fashion designer had off from work.

Someone from an organization working with the environment approached the fashion designer, a pen and roster in her hands. At the sight of the woman, the fashion designer cradled his beverage in his arms and held onto his croissant.

"Hi! I'm with Blue Piece and I was wondering if you'd like to sign up for our newsletter! It's not very expensive and we'd charge your credit card every two months in order to receive payments! What's your name, address, phone number and-"

"Francis Beilschmidt, call for address, 089 23 69 10, ask for Gilbert first then phone will be given to me. Sorry, in a hurry," Francis chimed as he practically swallowed his croissant whole and downed his beverage. He waved to the woman and went back to hurrying to his work. He chuckled when he thought of his good friend receiving a phone call from the organization because of his quick lie. Oh, he would despise him for a while, but that was always temporary.

He threw his cup into the closest trash can and sped up the stairs of the building which he worked in, where he knew many of his fellow fashion designer coworkers were scurrying around frantically. As he thought, when he opened the door, everyone was running around as if there was a murderer on the loose. Instead of joining the crowd, he swam his way through to his office, where he first placed his bag on the ground, then lazily leaned against his desk for a while. He stared down at the carpet in the room, which definitely wasn't his color. Chartreuse really wasn't anyone's color, but he could make it someone's color if he worked with it.

Francis sat down at his desk and began to draw out suit and dress designs for the dinner party that one of the company's partners were hosting out of town. It was something that excited the designer, since many people would be wearing things that he would design. And then one day, someone would wear his designs and say—

"Bonnefoy! For those designs, make sure you send them via email to our partner company's boss. Send them in a zip file why dontcha? It frustrates people when you send them one by one! We have to make a good impression, yeah?" It was Francis' boss, a man who had a lot of patience.

Francis smiled and waved him off, "Yes yes, I know. Computer talk, I know this things." His boss chuckled at Francis' English speaking skills then left almost as if he were yanked out of the room.

After a moment of silence, Francis rolled his eyes and muttered, "Not really." He turned on his computer hesitantly and waited for it to load. The words that filled the screen seemed foreign to him, not just because they were all in English. "Start Windows normally"? There was more than one way to start it? Just trying to think of the various ways that the computer in front of him could start frustrated him. He pressed the button on his computer and rolled away from it in his chair as far as he could. He wasn't done with the designs yet anyway, so he'd just figure out how to make a zip file later, whatever the hell that was.

xxxxxxx

Day 2: Francis vs. the Machine

Francis had a lot of time before he had to send in his designs, so he was casually hiccuping all of his effort onto his work. The designs were something that he thought deserved more than just a couple of hours out of his day, so there was no way he would rush through them. They were pretty much the core of his life after all.

Outside of his office was the usual noise, and inside was the repetitive tapping of his foot. It would be another one of those days; a day where he would search for inspiration that was there, but he was too out of it to grasp. He didn't like those days too much, but he decided that they were necessary days for the creation process, no matter how much stress they caused him in the long run.

He wondered about those zip files and how he would go about sending them though. He usually just sent them to his boss individually, whether he knew that he would get a complaint or not. Francis' hands found the power button on the computer and pressed lightly. The system turned on and the screen displayed some text and numbers.

"Start Windows Normally, Start Windows in Safe Mode"? Ah, well safe was always good. Francis moved the mouse and became frustrated when he didn't see the cursor on the screen. He used the keyboard's arrow pad instead, clicking enter on the safe mode option. Almost instantly, the computer started up, but there was a problem…

"What happens to my picture?! I had picture of…" Francis paused, because he couldn't remember. It was probably a picture of a tree, a default picture, "The computer is stupid! The quality of image on screen went very down also! I am…am… J'ai malchance avec ces ordinateurs…"

With that, Francis mashed the power button until his computer turned off and began to work on his designs at a nice pace. He was definitely back in his comfort zone.

xxxxxxx

Day 3: How to Update a Computer

"Excuse me? I'm the tech and I'm coming in," Francis turned his head to see a rather unstylish-looking man walking over to him, "I'm here to update your computer. It should only take a second."

Francis nodded then stood up, holding his designs in his hands. He had intended to just finish a part of the design he was working on while standing, but the man who was inserting some sort of device into his computer caught his attention.

His face was new to Francis, though Francis wasn't sure if that meant that the man was new around the building. Francis was quick to socialize, but he often did so blindly. He never really remembered who he talked to in the building; they all looked the same sometimes. And there were so many employees that it was easy to miss someone, especially a tech guy. But what was the tech guy wearing?! Olive colors?! That color looked terrible on him and the design of the outfit was plain and unattractive!

Besides the clothes, Francis was intrigued by whatever the man was doing on his computer—the company's computer. The man hadn't even sat down, so he wondered if he had even needed to stand up in the first place. Before he could even say anything, the man took the device out of the computer and turned toward him, "Did something happen?"

Francis wore a blank expression on his face, not knowing what the man was talking about exactly. He answered with a hesitant 'no' head shake. The man rose one of his bushy brows then sighed, "If there's nothing wrong then don't go into safe mode. That's an easy concept, isn't it?" With that, the man left, device and all. Francis stood beside his chair as if he expected him to come back in. When he figured that the man just wasn't the type to say goodbyes, he sat down again and stared at his computer screen. There were little lines going across a bar. It read, "Updating, clicking 'Cancel' or 'Stop' will cause this update to abort. Press 'Next' when the update is finished."

…What?

xxxxxxx

Day 4: A Work Day

There were still many more days before Francis had to submit his designs, and he was making very nice progress. He figured that he would submit the designs early so the seamstresses could get a head start on actually bringing the designs to life. With the thought of his designs being worn on most of the dinner party attendees, Francis nearly squealed then went back to work.

No one would visit him today, but he was fine with that. It gave him more time to concentrate on his designs. He would probably get most of them done as long as he wasn't distracted.

One would assume that someone would barge in as he thinks he won't be distracted. They would be wrong to assume such a thing. In fact, Francis had locked the door to his office. There would be no visitors; just him, his designs, and the machine, which was currently shut off.

Someone did knock on the door. It may have been his boss, or a coworker, that horribly dressed tech guy, or maybe even a relative. He didn't care though. No one would interrupt his designing today; no one or nothing.

A pencil broke? A pen ran out of ink? He had extras. He became thirsty? He had to take a break to the restroom? Phone call? Too bad. Maybe such a way was unhealthy, but he didn't care. He was absorbed in his work then, and he loved the feeling, and maybe it's why he was seen as such a trustworthy designer in the company. He was truly dedicated to his work, and no matter what happened, he would always have his designs completed by or before the deadline.

xxxxxxx

Day 6: A Day Off

Sundays were sometimes the best days or the worst days for Francis Bonnefoy, and on some occasions, they were just more days. A particularly normal Sunday came around, in which his good friend and roommate, Gilbert, received a phone call.

"Francis! Get the phone!" Gilbert yelled over the TV's blasting music as the phone rang. He was watching a German action film and was loving each second of it.

Francis was busy filing through his folder of older designs and placing them in the correct places in his file cabinet. Once he scanned them and sent them, he usually just kept everything in those cabinets for the rest of their days. Not wanting to stop his filing, he yelled that he couldn't answer the phone.

Again, Gilbert yelled for Francis to answer the phone, but the phone wasn't answered. Finally, as the phone rang a second time, Gilbert answered the phone with an irritated scowl, and turned the speaker on so he could leave the phone where it was then proceed to walk away, yet still hear the person speaking, "Beilschmidt speaking, the hell do you want?"

"Yes, I'm Susani from Blue Piece and we're very pleased that you're interested in our organization," the lady from the phone chimed.

Gilbert groaned and turned up the volume on the TV, having to yell to be heard, "I'm not interested in your face! What do want?!"

"Well sir—ah, I'm sorry, I should ask, is this the right Mr. Beilschmidt?"

"The one and only in this apartment!"

The phone went silent except for the rustling of some papers. Gilbert wondered if the lady had hung up since he couldn't quite hear the papers. "Really? Well, I suppose I'll hit you with all of our points then!"

The German sarcastically drawled, "Oh noooo! You'll wound me with your ecosystem stuff!"

"Excuse me, sir? Listen, this is Blue Piece, we work with the ocean life and we specialize in-"

"Shark Week! Yeah, I know! It's always the same—hey, have you seen this movie? It's about this guy and he's hunting down whales with this busty blonde and then the whale eats the blonde but she doesn't die or else everyone would have walked out of the theater, and then," Gilbert turned down the volume of his TV, "there's this guy who's a total sex addict right? Because, you know, this is one of those action pornos with guns and stuff. And so the whale is actually sexually active, so they have to kill the whale then kill all of its dolphin friends and its whale mama, who caused global warming."

Francis stepped into the room where the phone was, then quickly peeked into the television room where Gilbert was talking about some movie that may or may not have existed.

"And then there was this sea urchin that was all, 'Screw Blue Piece! They killed my mother!' And so everyone died, but they couldn't do that or else kids would have been scared to swim at the time the movie was released. So…"

The lady on the phone cut Gilbert off as soon as he started to slow down, "I'm sorry, sir, but may I ask if you're Francis Beilschmidt? Because that's who I'm looking for, and you obviously don't seem to be interested in Blue Piece or the fate of the poor animals in the sea that are dying due to the red tide and various other-"

Francis quickly ended the call and hung up the phone, giggling at the face that Gilbert made at him. "Francis Freaking Bonnefoy! I knew that was your fault! That was probably one of the worst experiences of my life!"

A full on laugh was received, and Francis huddled back to his file cabinets shouting, "You got me!"

"It was turning into such a fun conversation too…not!" Gilbert crossed his arms and turned up the volume of the TV again. The neighbors would come and complain about the noise, but that didn't concern him then, and it didn't concern his roommate much either.

xxxxxxx

Day 10: How to Create a Zip File

It was almost time to send the first batch of designs, and Francis was determined to send them early. He turned on his computer and waited for it to turn on like always. The starting question once again appeared on screen. He started the computer in safe mode, since he still liked the sound of it, and waited to turn on his scanner. Place the designs on the scanner then it'll pop up on the screen; that much he knew.

One at a time, each design appeared on the computer screen as he scanned them. A grand total of thirty eight designs! The number would have been forty, but Francis had decided that two of the designs were not dinner party material, but they looked nice! They would be for someone who wasn't very important he guessed, but his boss considered everyone in the company as important, even the interns. He was sure that it was fine to stuff the two designs into his scrap folder.

So with the designs scanned, Francis marveled at the image folder that they were placed in. They were arranged neatly by color and difficulty, and one would probably applaud him for their order, but there was one problem; he still didn't know what a zip file was and how to make one. He stared at his folder and clicked random things, only to find that he had done nothing at all with the folder.

Maybe he had to scan the pictures into a zip file? Francis began to tamper with the scanner's settings, loud beeping noises filling the room each time he pressed a button. He scanned a design again, but had no idea if it was a zip file yet. He figured that it wasn't, so he began pressing more buttons, the beeps becoming tortuous. Nothing that he pressed worked, and nothing that was scanned was a zip file. Soon he was senselessly button mashing on the scanner, making songs with the beeps even. Francis leaned back in his chair, one arm over his forehead, the other moving along with his hand as it pressed random buttons. The fashion designer hadn't a clue of what he could do.

"What are you doing to make all that noise?!" A bang on the door followed the yelling, "I'm coming in!"

"Door is locked," Francis mumbled, not bothering to let the person in.

There was a huff, and then all he could hear were his coworkers steadily quieting down outside of his door. How rare. It was a nice silence, one that couldn't be drowned out, but if you worked in one of the closed offices then you grew to ignore the sound—

"Well, are you going to unlock the door or not?!" Oh whoops, the yelling person was still at the door. Francis had thought that the person had gone away.

He stood up and opened the door, staring at the tech guy in front of him, "Oh, sorry," Francis spoke insincerely. The man rolled his eyes and stepped into Francis' office as Francis peeked at the now murmuring coworkers. "Such a loud man," Francis pointed inside his office jokingly at the tech guy, who was still wearing that disgusting colored outfit. The coworkers laughed unenthusiastically and went back to making noise a bit after Francis closed his door again.

"Oh please, your beeping was even louder. Now what exactly are you doing? Did you lose a nut somewhere in that brain to make you tap at your scanner, like a kid?" the tech guy asked.

Francis sighed and gestured for the tech guy to sit down, "I am stuck. I don't know what zip file is."

The tech guy sat down and looked up at Francis dubiously, "A zip file? It's just a compression—here, I'll show you-" he stopped himself and glared at Francis' computer screen, "Why are you still in safe mode?!"

Francis jumped at the man's tone and smiled, "It has nice sound."

"Pardon, 'it has a nice sound', you mean," the tech guy said, emphasizing the missing word, "Sit down, I'll teach you how to make a zip file."

The designer took the place of the tech guy as he stood up. "Teach me? Is it hard?"

"No—for starters, how about you take your computer off of safe mode? Turn off your computer."

Francis shrugged and pressed the power button on the computer, turning back to the tech guy to see an expression of horror. The tech guy was speechless for a while and croaked a small sound of disbelief. The fashion designer frowned at the man and was about to ask what the problem was…besides the fact that he was wearing a hideous outfit. Maybe he had realized how much of a fashion disaster he was, but no, that wasn't it.

"Why did you do that?! What's wrong with you?!" The tech guy screamed and turned on the computer, receiving a tiny squeak from Francis.

"I-I turn it off!"

"That's 'turned it off' and that's not how you turn off a computer!"

"What?!"

The tech guy selected 'Start Windows Normally' then rolled his eyes at the nearly cowering man in the chair, "Do you…know anything about computers?"

Francis nodded his head, "I send the emails to my boss. I scan picture."

"Yes? Then why don't you know how to make a zip file? Don't you all send zip files for deadlines?"

"I send designs one by one," Francis stated.

This shocked the tech guy, who took control of the mouse, "That sounds like it would be too many files to send one by one! I know most of you send over ten files in one folder, so it would be a hassle for the person who receives them! Alright, look; where's your folder with all the scans?"

Francis pointed to the folder on the desktop which seemed to have blended in with the other various folders. It was simply titled 'New Folder 42' and the color was the classic folder color. It was something that the tech guy was used to seeing in the building, no one knew how to go to customization sites and pick some pretty folders to make their computer items look different, but that really wasn't a problem.

"You should probably organize this a bit more when you have free time," the tech guy advised. This came as a surprise to the Frenchman, who took pride in organizing his folders from the inside. Inside each folder, there was order, on the outside, it wasn't as orderly, but that was mostly because he wasn't too sure of how to put them in order. The tech guy piped up again, "Actually, all you have to do is right click and click 'Arrange by'. It's not very difficult."

"The zip file, sir," muttered the somewhat offended fashion designer, "make a zip file?"

He watched as the tech man arranged his folders with a click of a button, and then made the cursor circle around 'New Folder 42', "See this? Right click it then see this?" A list appeared which had a lot of actions, "You go down to 'Send To' and keep your cursor there until this shows up. Then-see this? Click 'Compressed (zipped) folder'. Now see this loading screen?"

"Yes, I do not blind, do not say 'see this' at all, no…at every time," Francis frowned at the tech man and folded his arms.

Instead of receiving any expected reaction, Francis received a quick laugh from the tech guy, "Sorry, I just can't take you seriously if you can't speak English at least half properly!"

Francis scoffed and rolled his eyes at the English speaker, "I speak the English how I want! No one correct me on English, you correct me, it mean you are not correct."

"Good God, just stop. You're just butchering the English language. It was funny for a second, but when you're at the point where it's hard to understand you then it's just terrible. Another thing, no one corrected you because they didn't want to be rude, it's something people do in this country as opposed to…wherever you're from."

"France."

The tech guy looked down at the seated man in silence for a second, "Oh, of course. You know what? Why don't you change the language on this computer to French then? Maybe it'll be easier for you to comprehend-"

"I understand English fine, sir, is just speaking that is not all good. But computer do not speak, I am fine," Francis glared up at the tech man.

He dreaded the smirk that the tech man sported as he clicked onto some odd long list, "Are you sure about that?" Francis was about to say that he was indeed sure, when suddenly the computer whirred loudly.

"Narrator will read aloud what is on-screen as you-"

Francis screamed, not expecting to hear his computer talk, "Turn it off!" The tech guy quickly obeyed, noting that the man would probably be a bit afraid of robot horror stories, which was sort of interesting.

"At least we know your computer is a girl! Ah hah, sorry, but I'm going to get out of your hair and lead you through the rest of this now, unless you know what to do? It's the same as sending all of your other files; you're just sending a zip file instead. You can do that, right?"

"I can find way to send if I can't," Francis muttered.

The tech guy stared down at the Frenchman again, "Uh huh… well then, if you have any more trouble, don't just tap buttons like a mindless idiot, call for me. That's what they pay me for anyway. As long as it's tech stuff, I can help you," there was a pause, then a rushed, "Oh wait, sorry! My name is Arthur! Just call for Kirkland, and by call I mean scream out for me like everyone else does. That or just yell 'Tech!' You might want to open your door and yell it so I can hear you-"

"Yes yes, I know to get you. Thank you, um, Arthur," Francis pretended to be absorbed in trying to send the zip file to make the man leave quicker. To his dismay, Arthur remained in the office, while clinging onto the door, watching the designer send the file over his shoulder.

A cursory glance was given to Arthur, the tech guy who was convinced that Francis couldn't send an e-mail properly. A nod was given in exchange. Francis was about to send the e-mail when Arthur shouted, "Wait!"

Francis jumped and turned to the techie, wondering if he was doing something wrong, "What?! What did I do?"

Hesitantly, Arthur spoke, "Aren't you going to enter a subject for the e-mail?" He closed the door and leaned over the desk to get a closer look at the e-mail's subject line.

"No, should I?" Francis asked, deleting 'No Subject' from the subject line. He quickly typed, 'Designs: Dinner Party'.

This was relevant to Arthur's interests, "A dinner party? What for?"

"Oh! It is party of dinner for partner of ours! I design many clothes for party! It is party this whole company is invited and help do!" Francis spun in his chair a bit, his excitement almost infectious to the tech man. He stopped spinning and changed his expression quickly, "You do not know? You work here, yes?"

Arthur blinked as if he had expected the delighted man to continue explaining. His words came carefully with many pauses in between, "Oh, I work here but I don't think techies can go to things like company dinner parties."

"Hm? No? You receive no invitation?" Francis sat at the edge of his chair and stared up at the man.

"No, I haven't received one, were they sent out recently?" He knew the answer; he just didn't receive an invitation and would probably never receive one. With this thought, he changed the subject, "You haven't sent the e-mail yet?! Don't you have a deadline to make?"

Francis grinned halfheartedly, "I send designs early, avoids trouble." The two nodded at each other, leaving the room filled with an uncomfortable silence, which Francis decided to break, "Right um, Francis Bonnefoy."

A hand was held out for Arthur to shake, and after observing it as if it were a trap, it was shaken, "Francis? I'll um…remember that." He focused on the computer screen again, "Are you finished with your computer?"

"Ha ha, always finished, this thing is hard using. No…hard do use," Francis laughed cheerfully.

Arthur took control of the mouse once again. "That's 'hard to use', Mr. Bonnefoy, or you can say 'difficult to use', 'difficult to maneuver', 'hard to maneuver' or some other phrase," he clicked near the bottom of the screen, "and by the way, this is how you turn off a computer."

xxxxxxx

Day 15: How to Spot Something Harmless

"Tech! Kirkland! Arthur!" was what was shouted above the heads of Francis' now shocked coworkers. He waved at Arthur who was walking briskly near the back of the employee lobby. A finger was held up to signify that he'd be with him in a second. Francis raised a brow and went back into his office, he figured that not everyone in the office was tech savvy, so he expected that he would not be able to help him right away, but he wondered if there was another tech person to help him at least.

About ten minutes later, Arthur knocked on Francis' door, still wearing the ugly olive green outfit. Goodness, it should have been banned from the workplace! The building was high on fashion, everything looked great, and then there was the tech guy.

"Sorry, someone was working with a trial program and they weren't aware that the trial had ended," Arthur leaned on Francis' desk, "so what can I do for you, Bonnefoy?"

Francis smiled, "Say Francis, but computer has bad thing?" He pointed to the screen and looked back to Arthur.

"What? A virus? Let me see," Arthur looked at the screen intensely then stared at Francis, "Bonnefoy, that's just a window asking you to update Java. Didn't you read it?"

They both looked at the window again, Francis poked the screen, "It say 'No product information', when I click 'More information', pop up come up!"

"I know it might seem suspicious from your view, but Java's something trusted," Arthur clicked the install button and let Java update, "See? It's fine. Anything else, ComputerIlliteratefoy?"

"What?" Francis asked, mostly wanting the tech man to repeat himself.

Arthur chuckled, "Nothing," another chuckle, "I'm only kidding. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be a computer expert."

"You sound like trainer or maybe you train me for computer fight?" Francis laughed at the thought.

It was a silly thought to the designer since he knew that both of them had work to do, but Arthur didn't completely reject the idea, "Well, sort of. I'm going to try to help you understand computers little by little. Every time you call me in here, I'm going to teach you something different based on what you don't know, just so you won't be a danger to computers everywhere."

"Other way around! Computers are danger to me everywhere!" Francis made a large gesture with his arms and almost fell out of his chair doing so.

A laugh came from the techie, but it was stopped short, "You will become an average and maybe above average English speaker as well."

The glint in Arthur's eyes told Francis that the tech man was determined in his goals. He didn't mind though, as long as he could still do his work, "Stop by here some time maybe? Just don't wreck work time. Then "fix" me this way all you want!" They both laughed this time.

"Yes, I am fixing you on our spare time then," a wide smile appeared on Arthur's face, "so why don't I teach you some simple computer things? Tell me if you already know what I'm talking about."

xxxxxxx

Day 19: How to Rename a Folder

Francis tapped his pen on his desk as he examined the design he was working on. It was elegant, and fit for a king even, but this was a design simply for an employee, not a boss or company head. It was far too complicated maybe. Where were the designs he sent the other day? Misplaced? They would be handy for comparisons, but he sent them, so he figured that they were gone forever. He eyed the man who was organizing his computer files for him to his left. He tapped him with his pen somewhat harshly, "Arthur."

The tech man directed his attention away from the screen to Francis, "Yes? What do you need?"

"What do you like this design? It's for employee, is too fancy?" Francis asked, looking over the design again.

Arthur smiled, "Do you mean 'What do you like about this design? It's for an employee, is it too fancy?'"

"Actually, no on first. What…do you…think? Of this design, I mean? The word was on the tip of tongue, sorry," Francis muttered, pushing the design closer to Arthur.

The design really was beautiful, but Arthur didn't know much about designing clothes, the dinner party, or how formal the event was, "An employee would wear it? Um, I don't know how fancy it's supposed to be-"

"I would show others, but I left other designs at home and sent pictures on computer already, sorry," Francis gestured toward the computer and sighed, raking his fingers through his hair, "I should have bring designs."

A moment of realization hit Arthur, "Oh, wait those files don't leave after you send them," he searched for the folder his designs had been in.

"Hm? But I am send them, if send, then thing no longer is in possession, correct?" Francis watched what Arthur was doing on the computer. He had thrown all of the folders from the desktop into different folders that didn't crowd the screen. He hadn't finished, but so far, everything was organized nicely.

Hardly anything was on the desktop, so the screen looked creepily empty to Francis. He knew that the files were somewhere, but he'd have to search for them when Arthur relinquished the computer to him again. At the site of the pictures folder that Arthur clicked open, Francis saw that there were many folders categorized by year, then month. In the earliest folder was another folder labeled, 'Recent Designs', which contained all of the designs he had scanned the other day.

"Ah! Still there! The des—How?!" Francis took the mouse from Arthur and scrolled through the folder, "Ahh! That is so good! How is all of designs there?!"

Such excitement tickled the knowledgeable tech man, "Ah hah hah! It's pretty simple! Once you have something, it usually doesn't go away until you delete it, and even then, you have to delete it again in the recycle bin. Now about the organization, all you have to do is place folders in other folders. For naming, you right-click and click 'Rename' here." Arthur renamed the 'Recent Designs' folder to 'EasyRight?'

At this Francis shook his head, "No no, it must have space. Change to 'Recent Designs' again."

"I was just showing you," Arthur changed the folder's name back to 'Recent Designs', "that's fine?"

Francis nodded, still impressed with the order, "Now the designs, I can see them to compare? We can compare it two of us!"

"What? Did you mean, 'We can compare it to us?' What? What?" Arthur was genuinely confused.

The Frenchman shook his head while furrowing his eyebrows, "No, we can— the two of us…can compare design."

It took Arthur a while to understand what Francis was trying to say, but he figured out what he was trying to say eventually, "Oh! You mean 'we can both compare the designs'?! Alright, let's see them!"

Francis held the design near the screen and marveled at how the size wasn't all that different when Arthur opened it in the photo viewer. "Okay okay, so this look quite well, yes?"

"That's not grammatically correct but—oh I think it's alright! It's not too fancy I believe?" Arthur chirped.

"Yes yes! As I look it is good!" Francis nodded, then went back to work, "Okay, thank you."

What a short-lived moment that was, but Arthur thought that it was a nice way to figure out a little more about designing. Most of the people he helped out with tech-related things weren't working on designing things when he came around, so he was often out of the loop when it came to who was doing which project. He wasn't really interested in designing of course, but it was always nice to see what other professions were all about. So far, he liked his own occupation the most.

All was silent in the office room, Francis was busy drawing out a design, and Arthur was arranging the last couple of folders. The only reason why Arthur was there while Francis was working was because he told him that he'd organize his folders while he worked, and that's exactly what was happening. There were no words exchanged unless Francis started the conversation, so Arthur had somewhat appreciated the interruption.

Another interruption came a little later, when Francis accidentally dropped his pen on Arthur. "Oh, sorry. I should no tap my pen like this a lot." Arthur handed his pen back and accepted his apology, but Francis seemed to be intrigued by something.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, as the designer looked him up and down.

Francis squinted at the clothes Arthur wore and grimaced a bit, "Your clothes are um, very ugly, I have no good word to say for ugly besides ugly. Olive is not your color."

The tech man's mouth was wide in shock, but then he quickly explained himself, "This is the uniform that they make me wear while working here."

"What?!" Francis almost jumped out of his seat, "No! That's no true!"

"It is! I'm not supposed to wear anything else. It's not the most comfortable uniform either. I'm not very into fashion, but even I know that it's an eye sore." Arthur muttered.

Francis frowned and looked over the uniform, "All tech wear this?! It is ugly color! It is a mess! It is a disaster! It is no good! I can not believe our company have uniform so bad for tech people!"

The tech guy scratched his head and shrugged, "Actually, I'm the only technician here."

"Then they will not care you wear something else…design by me!" Francis pulled up a blank sheet of paper, "come now, tell me what is most comfortable to you."

xxxxxxx

Day 22: How to Send a File…in Person

Stepping down the noisy halls was usually nerve-wracking for newcomers to the company. Walking down the quiet halls where many worked without interruptions was far worse, even for the veterans of the company. Knocking on the door to the boss' office was where most lost their minds, but not for Francis, who had little to no reason to fear his boss. He was a great designer, so there was really nothing to be afraid of.

As he knocked on the door, a folder in hand, the already quieter area around him became even more silent. Those who were around nosily watched to see what the foreign designer was up to. The door to the office slowly opened, and the boss peeked out with a smiling face, "Francis Bonnefoy! A pleasure to see ya," he stepped out of the way to let Francis in, "Come in!"

Francis walked in with his folder and smiled at his boss as he shut the door behind them. His boss hustled over to his desk and took a seat, gesturing for Francis to come closer, which was quickly obeyed.

"So Bonnefoy! Whaddya want, heh? A raise? I'm only joking, 'course. I mean, ya could be asking for a raise but…ya know, that's never happened before when it comes to Bonnefoy," the boss waved his hands around wildly, "not that ya don't deserve a raise, 'cause you're great, it's just I don't expect ya to ask for one."

The boss babbled on and on about raises and promotions, causing the Frenchman to chuckle almost femininely, "No no, it is not that I am here with raise or promotion talk! I come to say something about our tech guy, Kirkland."

Suddenly the boss' face became serious, "Is there a problem with him? Really ya gotta tell me," he folded his hands and fiddled around with his thumbs, "I could get rid of him in a heartbeat."

Francis' heart nearly stopped at the thought of the tech guy being fired just because of him, "Really you would not fire for me," the silence met with his statement caused him to hesitate, "I come since Kirkland's uniform is um, very ugly."

The folder was placed on the boss' desk, and after it seemed that it wasn't going to be opened, Francis flipped the folder open himself. The boss instantly looked down at the contents with a quick and cold, "What's this?"

"Ah, well I figure the uniform Kirkland has is bad, I make design for new uniform," Francis began pointing at certain things on the design, "is a cheap material, and is nice for working in, very free and still fashionable. Pocket for small things so they do not drop while in hand. Color matches building, and—oh! See this? Ah, that phrase, it is sticking to me on my tongue, but this is for other thing. Is only one pocket more than the uniform he is in now, but this is what go well for someone-"

"Francis…"

The fashion designer nearly jumped at his boss' sudden interruption; he had never interrupted him before. "Yes, Jerry?"

With a swift movement, the folder was closed and handed back to Francis, "Really, do ya think we have time to worry about a technician? You should be concerned about your deadlines, Francis."

Shock came over Francis, as if a lightning bolt struck his skull and burned into his brain and down to his heart. Never had he ever been rejected in such a way, especially not for his designs. Maybe he believed that Francis had wanted this done soon? No, Francis didn't expect this to be done so soon! Yes, that was the misunderstanding! Right?

He leaned over the desk a bit more, wearing an almost angry but more surprised countenance, "Oh Jerry, I do not ask for this be done now! I say this is for future when we can do it! Sorry to confuse!"

"I don't care about when it's supposed to be done, it's just pointless, ya know? Technicians are technicians, Francis. There's not much else to them. They don't need new uniforms, and they don't need nice looking uniforms either," Jerry, the boss, almost began to work on something else, before Francis uttered a loud sound of irritation.

His voice seemed to rise as he spoke, yet it remained somewhat calm, "I don't see problem why they can not have a new uniform—well, he. The uniform now is a eye soar! I think it bring big embarrassment to company if he walk around like that! He is part of company and we have him look like a bad rat?!"

"Technicians aren't a part of the company, they're just technicians—Francis, we're not arguing over this! The technician doesn't need a new uniform and that's it! Just 'cause you think his uniform's ugly doesn't mean we should spend our precious time to get him ano-"

"What you say he is not part of the company?! He does computer here, that is part of company! Look, I will even make uniform myself as long as you say is oka-"

Jerry slammed his fist on the table, frightening Francis into silence, "No! No one is making the techie a new uniform! Not you, not me, not your dead granna, not my dog, not Lisa, not Getrude—no one! Would you look at what you're requesting, Francis?! It's like you're asking me to give the janitor a new coat! And before ya ask—no! The janitor can't have a new coat!"

Francis stared at his boss, no words could flow out of his mouth. He was speechless, and almost terrified. Jerry ran his fingers through his hair and whistled lowly, looking away from the fashion designer standing in front of him. Not much else could be said, from either of the men; Jerry was at a loss of words with his own outrage while Francis was just plain at a loss of words.

There was a silence, while Francis stood there with his folder while his boss pretended to busy himself with paperwork that he had been avoiding all week.

Eventually, Francis felt the flat tones in his voice attempt to surface, and he quietly adjusted his throat; a sound almost unheard. A shaky whisper fell out first, his boss pretending not to have heard it, but then a small noise died in Francis' throat. Quite a bit more silence followed, until Francis gained enough of his voice to ask, "I am just asking why not, now?"

A frosty, upsetting sigh seemed to wrap around Jerry and his desk, something that Francis wanted to back away and run from. "Listen, it's just a couple of things. Everyone's just kinda not doin' what they're supposed to and now— now there's this?"

Francis nodded.

"And also, technicians…I mean come on, Francis," Jerry flashed a sorry smile as an attempt to lighten the mood, "I don't mean to make this sound bad, but they're the least of our worries— or just he. Ya know, most people have techies a plenty, so no one would hire 'em, 'cept us. He's lucky to be working here!"

Francis didn't nod at this, but he made a sound to show that he was listening.

"And while he's lucky, we can't be usin' 'em as our guinea pig for our latest fashion ideas. Once you make one out-of-work design, then everyone will want to. Just stick to your work, Francis. If ya stick to your work then the whole company sticks to their work except Cyrille, he just doesn't know what the word 'deadline' means, heh?" Jerry's second attempt to lighten the mood failed.

Francis twisted his lips and looked down at his folder, "I did not know that we were not allow to use our design for thing other than work, although Kirkland is in the same building where we all work," he opened his folder and smashed the designs on his boss' desk, "If that is case then I wonder if it is all worth it. All these… these stupid people make the noise like sirens outside my office, like they have no better thing to do? I could do what I want at home then. I could make design…in France, where I do not need to make home at a friend's home. My own home, where maybe I have more to fight against, but at least our tech guys was not at discomfort with the uniform they have."

Jerry watched as Francis began to storm away, "H-Hey! Francis?!"

"I am just going home for day. Maybe Kirkland can take my place today since you want deadlines done so bad," and with that, Francis slammed the door on his way out, not making eye contact with any of his fellow designers. Most of them had been listening to the conversation, if one would call it that. Maybe some of them agreed, and maybe most of them were just nosy, they had heard either way, and they also made sure not to make eye contact with the man. The quiet section always made sure not to look at anyone passing by. It was the louder section that always made it their business to yell and stare at a passerby.

One passed by Francis with a, "Oh hello, Francis, having a good day?"

Another, "We don't get to talk much, because I'm always so busy with these deadlines, but hey! What's up?"

And another, "Make your deadlines early as usual? You probably have time to burn, huh?"

The man rushed into his office, gathered the things he'd need, and ran right out of the building. To hell with the company tonight.

xxxxxxx

Night 22: How to Rant

A glass of wine met with Francis' lips, the contents slowly being swallowed even as the glass disconnected. Francis' roommate continued to watch TV as Francis mumbled something that sounded as bitter as his wine. There was no reply to the Frenchman, but his words were not falling on deaf ears, or that's what Gilbert would often say. It was never made certain if Gilbert actually listened to his roommate's concerns. A small hiss came from Francis, which caused Gilbert to find his roommate at the corner of his eye, but his attention was quickly focused on the TV again.

The room was filled with noise from the TV and Francis' odd sounds, which were just ways of getting Gilbert's attention. It wasn't often that the fashion designer came home from work early, so Gilbert was sure that something had happened, but around that time, he was too sucked into his shows to care much about whatever was happening to Francis.

There came a point where Francis tried to break his wine glass with his bare hands, cursing at it in French; that's about when Gilbert's show was interrupted with a commercial, leaving the German with nothing to tune into except Francis. He slowly turned to Francis, who stared at him expectantly.

"So um," Gilbert began, taking the wine out of Francis' hand in order to steal a sip, "how was your day?" There wasn't any enthusiasm in the question, mostly because the roommate could sense a storm nearing the area, an emotional storm that is.

The fashion designer took his wine back and downed a small amount before he hummed slightly to let Gilbert know that he was about to speak, "Well it was day of, let us say, stress?"

Another sip of the wine. "And I talk to boss today," Francis inhaled impatiently, "and he was not nice."

Gilbert blinked then grinned; that wasn't so bad! He was expecting a huge rant about everything that happened to Francis, but this was pretty short and to the point of the—

"What was his problem?! I make design for tech man, and I take the design to boss, and you know what he do?! He yells at me! He say, 'tech can't look nice or presentable'! 'Francis you are crazy for want to have tech man in a outfit that do not reflect poorly on us!' What. Is. His. Problem?! Why can't I make the clothes?! I can sew! Suddenly Jerry is dictator?! Huh?! Uniform dictator?! So dumb! So dumb! So dumb! So dumb! Agh!"

Dang it.

"And he say, 'Oh Francis what about deadline?' Damn deadline! He knows I always do deadline!"

Aw man. Gilbert couldn't escape. Needless to say, Gilbert wasn't able to finish his show without the Frenchman ranting loudly next to him. He attempted to turn up the volume once the commercials ended, but Francis took the remote away, "I'm not done! Listen!"

Gilbert sunk into his couch and lazily turned his head towards Francis, who was still ranting, and then he turned his head away. A barely audible mumble seeped from his mouth, "Duck nuts." It would be a long night.

xxxxxxx

Day 23: How to Play a Media File

Eyes were on Francis as he casually walked into the company building with his bag, yet the noise was as loud as ever. He found himself in his office in no time, but for some reason, it seemed cramped and prison-like to him now. Eventually, he decided that it was because of the visit he paid to his boss, which he was still upset about. Gilbert had listened, but all he responded with at the end was, "You should jump on a table and yell something. That always works."

He didn't mind coming back to work though, the office just seemed dull to him then. Slipped under his door was the folder that he had given his boss, so with a quick eye roll, he picked it up and stashed it into his bag. Francis ended up doodling designs out, but most of them were scrapped. A sigh escaped him as he stared at his black computer screen. He guided a finger over to the computer's power button and lazily pressed it. As soon as he could, he clicked around on the desktop, opening things he didn't want to open and moving things he didn't plan to move. These actions didn't lighten the office's room, but for some reason the rhythmic clicking sounds of the mouse reminded him of all his coworkers outside.

Francis stood and opened his office door, his eyes gliding over the crowd. "Kirkland!" Not many looked up at the yelling man, but the tech man was quick to respond to the call and was seen power walking toward the designer's office.

"Here," Arthur was directed into the office, "what is it?"

A hopeful smile appeared on Francis' face, "Well! You know how I play music on computer?"

"No, I don't know how you play music on your computer," Arthur folded his arms, "I take it that you have a special way that you would like me to know about?"

Francis rolled his eyes, "I mean how do…sorry, can I play music— on the computer?"

Arthur nodded in satisfaction, "Alright, well all you have to do is open your music player program then…" the technician waited for the Frenchman to do so, but there was no movement, "I'm guessing that you don't know what your program is".

A shrug and a headshake told the technician that his assumption was correct. He kneeled on the ground and moved the computer's mouse to the music folder, "There are a couple of ways that you can do this, but for now I'll just open a media file in order to open the program." Arthur clicked on a file that read, "Muita Bobeira" and the music started playing almost instantly. Calm guitars started playing, then the voice of a female singer.

The men listened to the song without speaking for a while, Francis shaking his leg to the beat, but the silence couldn't stay for long. "I can not understand the song," Francis said with a laugh.

Arthur laughed back and looked up at the man who was at least enjoying the song, "Well do you happen to have an mp3 player of some sort?"

Francis shook his head, "I have one or two CD at home."

"Mn, that would be 'CDs', but if you'd like, I have an mp3 player that you can listen to if you would like something other than this song," Arthur pulled a rather cheap music player out of his pocket, and looked around the office for some sort of USB cord, without being too invasive. There was none, save for the scanner USB, but he wasn't about to disconnect something that the designer would probably need. "I'm going to get a cord, be right back."

With that, Arthur left Francis alone in the office. A somber classical song filled the office as the last song ended. Francis slid deeper into his chair and kicked his shoes off. These types of songs, though beautiful, often made him feel like not moving. An uplifting classical song wouldn't have the same effect of course. He enjoyed music without vocals though; there was no barrier there, just sounds that translated the same in every language. But this particular song was one that France wouldn't be able to work to, and it did nothing to bring positive energy to the office.

Finally, Arthur came back into the office, the sounds of the noisy coworkers overpowering the neutral music. Francis perked up at the sight of the man and smiled, but he didn't speak.

"Here we go. You may use this and my mp3 player," Arthur hooked up his music player to Francis' computer then opened 'My Computer', "and I might as well show you how to play this." A device named "Arthur's Mp3 2" was clicked, and there was a huge list of songs when it was opened.

Francis skimmed through the list of songs with his eyes, "Ah, all English?"

Arthur snorted and clicked the 'Play All' button at the top of the window. The classical music stopped playing and was replaced with a rock ballad. "That's how you play all of them, but you can also just click a song to play it." Arthur stood and listened to the ballad for a while before humming with pride, "Well, call me if you need me again. I was supposed to help someone out but, I figured that they could wait for a little while."

"You are not staying here?" Francis had expected him to stay and help lighten the mood of the office, but he hadn't thought that the technician actually needed to work again, "What about the thing?"

When Francis pointed to the mp3 and the USB cord Arthur shrugged his shoulders and scratched his cheek, "Just erm, if I don't come back for it, or if you don't catch me to give them back before the end of the day, then just keep it in here until the next time I can get it back," he opened the door, noise spilling into the office, "I have more than one so I suppose it's not a problem. Bye."

The door closed and the noises became muffled again. The music made the office livelier, but it was a little lonely. Francis gasped and folded his arms in disappointment; he had forgotten to tell Arthur about how rotten the day before had been.

xxxxxxx

Day 24: How to Divide a Folder

Francis was finishing his last design and adding a little color to it. The outfit was for the assistants of the lower area, and since it was the final design, he had thrown all his effort into not drawing something sloppy just to get his work done. No, this last design had to be great, just like the rest of his designs.

At the sight of his finished design, he smiled and silently celebrated with himself. The design was in the scanner in no time, and he cheered when the image showed up with the other designs. With what he remembered from Arthur, he turned the folder into a zip file and was about to attach the zip file to an email. Even Francis knew how to send an email. It was one of the only things he felt that he could do right when it came to computers, but at this time, an odd thought came over the designer.

He removed himself from his chair, slowly making his way to the door. When he opened it, he found his coworkers to be as noisy as usual. He peeked around, and shrugged his shoulders, "Arthur!"

No one looked at him, so he figured that everyone was used to him calling for the technician. Almost in record time, Arthur rushed down an aisle to assist the Frenchman. His relaxed, "Is there something I can help you with," assured the Frenchman that the tech man wasn't too busy.

"Arthur, I do not know how I send email!" Francis whined innocently.

The technician pondered this for a while, then he placed his hands on his hips, "Yes, you do! You send emails all the time!"

"I don't know how I send in a zip file," Francis lied, pushing back an oncoming laugh of defeat.

Ever so suspiciously, Arthur sat down in the empty chair while trying to read Francis' face. He wasn't able to, so there was nothing he could do but assist the man with his problems. "First off, a better way to say that would have been, 'I don't know how to send a zip file in an email,' and secondly," Arthur attached the zip file to the email, but was prevented from doing so, "I see, ah so it's that your file is too large."

This came as a surprise to Francis, especially since he didn't actually think that he had a problem. "What? How is that?" He leaned over his desk to see the error.

"It's an easy fix, just make two folders," Arthur copied half of the contents of the folder and pasted them into another folder, "then you make both of them zip files and send then in separate emails." He attached the zip files to two separate emails then looked up at Francis.

"Ah, thank you," Francis muttered, he replaced Arthur in the chair as the other fellow headed for the door.

Arthur furrowed his brows and frowned, "And sorry about that, I shouldn't assume that people call for me just for the sake of calling me."

Just like that, the office was Arthur-less once again, and Francis couldn't help but think he—oh, the mp3 player! He was supposed to give it back to him! He was about to go after the technician and give it back to him, but he remained in place, and wasn't sure why. Maybe he would come back for it himself? For some reason, he continuously turned his head to the door every time he heard a noise close to him.

At least he was done with his designs. Francis wondered what he would do while waiting for the deadline, which he had met, to come around.

xxxxxxx

Day 25: How to Finish Early

If one would believe it, the building was quieter than usual, and it was because most of the workers decided that they should probably get started on their own projects. The procrastinators were the only people making noise. It was a nice semi-silence. Not many were waltzing around and socializing, and the drone of an occasional scanner sort of kept the workers in their zones. If someone else was scanning, that meant that they were that much behind.

Francis sat in the lobby, watching his coworkers as he nibbled on a croissant. It was safe to say that he enjoyed these types of days in the building. Most of the others disliked it, mostly because Francis would stare, and stare, and stare, and watch over their shoulders, give compliments on their designs, and eat his croissant. Though he never said anything about it, just the fact that he was out of his office eating that croissant showed that he was done and had no other responsibilities while everyone else was still thinking of what to do. He was flaunting his freedom and he didn't even know it.

For now, Francis was simply sitting, and many already feared for when he would start coming around. It wasn't that what he did was bad; it just showed them that they were behind. Of course, some were on Francis' page and had finished early, probably those who learned the evil ways of procrastination beforehand.

Right when no one wanted him to come around, Francis stood up and crept around as silently as possible. A couple of frustrated sighs were heard, and some laughs from the folks who knew what the sighs were for. He peered down at all the work as he walked by the small areas ever so slowly.

"Ah, it is a pretty dress! I would love to see in person," Francis chimed at someone's design. A thank you was given, and a nod was returned.

Another compliment, another nod, another compliment, thank you, nod, nod, thank you, compliment, "What are you doing?"

"Hm?" Francis turned around to see Arthur raising a brow at him.

A nibble was taken out of the croissant, and then a piece was offered to the technician, who declined it. "I am seeing the work of all my coworkers," Francis smiled, while leaning over a wall that separated a worker from the aisle, "I think the color on it is good."

The man on the other side of the wall looked up at Francis, only realizing that Francis had been talking to him after Arthur looked down at him. The man smiled and only nodded, bashfully going back to his work.

"Don't you think that you're distracting them a bit?" Arthur whispered.

Francis shook his head, "People walk around all the time! I just walk around when it empty like this. They are fine."

A couple of people looked up as if to say that he was wrong, but quickly went back to work when Arthur looked at them, "If you say so."

"Ah, that woman looks like she has trouble, Arthur," Francis pointed at a woman who was fiddling around with a scanner.

Arthur rubbed his eyes then crossed his arms, "That would be 'she is having trouble'." He watched the woman, who looked up at him expectantly, then went over to help her out.

xxxxxxx

Day 26: How to Share Media Files

Francis figured that he should have given the mp3 player back to Arthur a while ago. Though most of the songs on it weren't really the type of songs that he'd listen to, they lightened up his office just because he was laughing at them. A lot of the songs were lost in translation, so maybe he didn't like them because of their idioms also.

He poked his head out the door, a smile on his face. It was noisy again, but not for the usual reasons. People were panicking, because most of them were about to miss their deadlines, most of their deadlines being the same as Francis', which was in four days or so. It was better for them to get most of what they needed to get done before their days off, and since it was the day before a day off, it was going to be hectic for the slackers.

"Arthur!" Francis called out, and again, no one looked over. He waited for a while, but was a bit irritated when the Englishman didn't appear. Everyone was running around, scanning, yelling, and overall just looking like a mess. He called for Arthur again.

In the heart of the crowd he spotted Arthur hustling toward him. He didn't bother to come inside, and stood at Francis' door, "Yes?"

"I have your mp3 thing," Francis began, "did you want it back?"

A chorus of "Tech!" rang out, and Arthur jumped in surprise, "Keep it for now! I'll get it later!" He went off quickly to the yells.

Francis frowned and slipped back into his office, staring at his door for a long time. He eventually turned to his computer and sighed. The screensaver was on, and it was some logo waving around all over the place like it had no sense. He dug his cheek into his palm as he set his elbow on his desk.

Staring at the logo wasn't very productive, but he didn't have much to do besides stare at it. Before he knew it, he was thinking of the dinner party and how he would have to drag Gilbert along with him. It was fun to dress Gilbert in formal clothes! Since each worker was allowed to bring one person to the party, Francis planned to bring him. Although he forgot to tell Gilbert that he was forcing him to go, he figured that there wouldn't be any problems there. By the end of the work day, Francis was excited for the party.

xxxxxxx

Night 26: How to Beg Properly

"Oh, I'm not going."

Francis was on the floor begging Gilbert to go with him to the party, and every time he so much as spoke he was given some sort of rejection. "Gilbert! Please! I can not ask the people now! All have someone to go with!"

Gilbert hardly made eye contact with the designer as he shook him wildly. "I'm not going to that party. I have shows to watch, and I'm going to be tired after work or something."

"Gilbert! We are not friend?! Please?!"

"Friends don't force friends to go to awkward parties when they want to sit on their rear and watch some television," Gilbert pointed out.

"Gilbert," Francis frowned, "I will do things for you and you will go?"

"Nah," Gilbert changed the channel on the TV, "I love this show!"

Francis huffed, stood in front of the TV and crossed his arms, "Gilbert! You are going to the dinner party! It is free food, fun, and dancing, and many cute women!"

"Eh," Gilbert tilted his head to try to see what was going on.

The Frenchman broke out into fake tears, "B-But Gilbert! Fine! I do not care if you become big and die of fat!"

"Okay, so stop caring and move away from the TV," Gilbert and Francis locked eyes, "Gilda is about to get chopped in half I think. I have to see!"

"You are going to the party."

"I don't want to."

"Well you are."

Gilbert became a bit irritated, turned off the TV, and motioned Francis to sit down next to him. He complied, a bit curious. "First off, the fact that you're trying to force me to go to some crap while I'm allowing you to live with me is kind of bad," Gilbert waited for Francis' understanding face to appear, and when it came he continued, "also, you can't just take your best friend to something like that. Just go alone."

The TV was turned back on, and Francis didn't say a word for the rest of the night.

xxxxxxx

Day 29: How to Try to Make Someone Accompany You

This was certainly a dilemma. Francis had called many people over his two days off from work. Everyone was either going with someone already or doing something else with their time, the latter mostly being a bit far in the first place. Francis watched his frantic coworkers run around as they tried to get their work done. He hid in his office and blinked up at his ceiling, thinking that no one would be thinking of trying to get someone to go with them to the party. His fist hit the palm of his hand as he didn't care about how busy anyone was.

He turned on his computer, and as soon as he could, Francis opened notepad and began to type.

"Clarisse, would you mind coming to the dinner party with me? Surely you don't really want to go with Harold," he wrote, but quickly backspaced until the notepad program was empty again.

Asking someone that was already going with someone was probably not the best idea. Ah, but who didn't have someone to go with?

He knew that Sasha and maybe Lindsey didn't have someone to go with but, there was this cute list that was stapled on a wall somewhere. All of the attendees were there and if they were already going with someone, then their names were crossed out. Oh, how junior high this all sounded; finding someone to go with, becoming upset over the thought of going alone, and even the list. That was all a part of the fun though, or was it?

Francis stood and opened the door of his office, the crowd seemed larger than before. He frowned and looked down at his clothes, too expensive to go through that crowd with. Well then, "Arthur!"

The technician had to be called about three times. It was noisy and hectic, and it was getting a little stuffy. Even so, the technician made his way to Francis, his voice hurried, "Yes, what is it?"

"Sorry to bother, but you can find list of people for dinner party? One with the names crossed?" Francis smiled at him with pleading eyes and a folded lip.

The request was hardly even processed; Arthur went off almost mechanically for this list. Maybe he knew where it was, or maybe he didn't, but about thirty minutes later, he came with the paper and handed it to Francis, "I wonder what you'll do with this, poke fun at the people who aren't crossed out?"

"Good guess! That is not it," Francis thanked the man, waved him off, and closed the door to his office.

So the list said that Sasha was taken, but as he thought, Lindsey didn't have anyone to go with. She wasn't the most attractive, and she didn't have the best personality, but he was sure that they would be fine. He figured it would be his punishment for assuming that Gilbert would go with him.

The list was a mess though. Some names were crossed out, some names had notes by them such as, "Will be late, but fashionably late," or, "Taking more than one girl is A-Okay!" One name even had a written speech, "While you're all having fun at your fancy dinner party, I'll be at home; having to take care of my kids, changing their diapers, feeding them, entertaining them, etc. So while you sip your cool glass of champagne, think of me, all alone. All alone. I hate you all." Many arrows connected to commentary were pointed at the speech. Most of the commentary said things similar to, 'Wow suck it up. Be a dad for once and start using condoms.' Work humor.

Francis had crossed out his name the first time that he had seen the list, which was when it was cleaner. He left it crossed out and scoured over the names on the list, only a couple were not crossed out; Alyssa, Michael, James, Lindsey, Feliciano, Toli, Kukii, Fredrick, and a couple of others who Francis instantly began to type out letters to.

The letters were all personal and different for each person, yet still asking the receiver if they would be interested in going with him to the dinner party. After they were all printed, Francis wondered how he would send out the letters. There was no way he was going through that crowd. Well then! He stood up with the papers in hand, stuck his head out of the door, and called for Arthur, who came running.

"What is it?" he asked, looking down at the papers in Francis' hands.

The papers were held up to eye level with Arthur as Francis waved them, "This is not a job you have, but it is having to do with computer, kind of! I do not know how to send to people since I do not have the email they have, so I am not too sure what I can do, would you know?"

Arthur's eyes darted toward some other place that he was being called to, "Then that must be a problem. I can't help you if you don't have their email addresses. A house address would be fine, but I'm sure you know how to send regular mail. Listen I have to-"

"But they are here in building! They are all who are not going to dinner party with some person! How do I get them to have these?"

One of the technician's eyebrows arched, "If I'm not mistaken, your name was crossed out on the list, wasn't it?"

"Yes but my friend did not want to go and it is for he is lazy and watch the shows all day—wait, why did you look and see if my name is crossed?"

Surprise overcame Arthur and he didn't respond until someone called for him, followed by a long slur of curses. "Sorry, someone over there sounds like they really need assistance—here, I'll just, take these so you don't have to call me over again. You said that they're all in here right?"

Before Francis could assure that all of the receivers would be in the building, Arthur took off with the papers. The designer was frozen, wondering what was up with that. It was a bit too loud to concentrate though. He hopped back into his office and into his chair. There were still three others on the list that Francis was debating on sending letters to. The only problem was that he really didn't like the three at all, but he figured that maybe he could get over his dislike for them and go with them.

Eventually, he found himself carefully choosing his words as he typed to the three, and then printed out their letters. It was about an hour and a half later or more, so hopefully things had calmed down out with the procrastinators.

Nope. It was just as crazy outside of Francis' office, yet he still called for Arthur, who came around awfully slow, "What is it?" He looked down at the papers in Francis' hands and frowned.

"So you gave them letters? Can you give these too? There is only three now!" Francis smiled innocently, practically stuffing the papers in the technician's hands.

Arthur stared at the papers and sighed, reading the names of the people that the letters were addressed to. "Well if it's only three it can't be so bad," he began to hustle away, but then turned back, "by the way, most of the people you asked said that they have already decided to reject you. And also, I only looked for your name to see if the list was in any type of order is all."

"What is the order of the list?" Francis asked.

"Oh well you see, Francis, it's just you know, t-that type of order where there is uh—the type where it's" Arthur stopped speaking after mumbling some irrelevant words, "But I should give these to whoever they are meant for, sorry for delaying."

Francis really wanted to know the order of the list. What a pity that Arthur had mumbled it. He snuck back into his office and analyzed the list again. He thought that maybe there was an order at first, but on a second glance, there was no order. An order probably would have been convenient, but the names were actually randomized, probably so Aisha Aaharn wouldn't be harassed if she was at the top of an alphabetical list.

Francis saw this as no big deal; Arthur had probably just thought that there was a weird pattern. Also what was that about most of the people rejecting him?! They were just missing out, and not cool at all! It was fine though, all he wanted was one.

About another hour and thirty minutes passed as Francis read through the list again, wondering who exactly rejected him. Soulless beings, that's who. It was probably James, since he was kind of not really willing to go to the party with a man, but really the party wasn't a couple type of thing, unless you were going with someone as a couple, which is why Francis figured that Gilbert would have been perfect. But no, he would rather watch television. Kukii probably rejected him too, since she didn't even talk to that many people. Oh, and Toli because she was kind of a witch. Not that many losses, but who knew how everything would turn out?

He realized that others might have been looking for the list, though he doubted it since everyone was so busy with their deadlines. He stepped out of his office with the list, and then walked right back in. Too many people to walk through! They'd eat the buttons off of his delicate shirt or something! They seemed so violent! He poked his head out again, "Arthur! Arthur," he called as he saw the technician closer to his door than he thought he'd be. But the tech guy was carrying many ink cartridges elsewhere, "sorry, come here when you are finish please!"

The technician nodded and went off to wherever he was going again. When he came back, Francis noticed a little ink had gotten on his hands, but didn't say anything about it. "What is it, Francis?" Arthur asked.

"This list has no order," Francis read over the list again, double checking his statement, "there is no order."

Arthur's face turned slightly red, "I swear if you called me over just to tell me that-"

"Sorry! It is fine, I thought there was a pattern! But there is none. I want that you put this back, if it is not too bad to do?"

Francis read over the list again then looked up at the technician, who crossed his arms, thinking of a response. "Listen you; I can't go around running these random errands, especially since they have nothing to do with what I'm paid for!"

What was this? Maybe he really was asking for too much, but… "But I ask you as a friend, not as a technician," Francis frowned, rubbing his chin, "sorry, I know I have ask a lot for you to do, I will place the list on wall once more."

A quiet, 'oh,' dropped from Arthur's mouth as Francis began to step around everyone outside of his office. He came to a part where he couldn't move at all, and everyone was just moving upwards as he was trying to move south. It was the infamous printer and scanner rush. Francis tried very hard to make his way out of the crowd, but he was still unable to move. He figured it was time to stop being passive with the crowd and try to surge through. With this attempt, he ended up squeezing between legs and bottoms, skirts, papers, papers, oh so many papers.

He resurfaced between an angry group, and even deeper inside the crowd. He tried again, thinking maybe if he went to the right instead of south, he would get out faster. He brushed past more legs, and noted that he could hardly see the floor. Why did the company have so many people in one building?! Francis turned out of someone's unintentional grasp, only to hear a loud rip and a cold feeling on his skin. He looked around him to see what it was, but there were so many papers that he couldn't see. He took an even deeper dive, and he was almost on his hands and knees.

Upon returning to the surface, he saw the end of the crowd, and pushed his way through. He was free! Now what was that loud rip— NO! The very shirt that Francis had been trying not to damage now had a massive rip on the shoulder! He couldn't move; all he could do was stare at the rip in his clothes and hope that he wouldn't lash out at the nearest person. He breathed and held his breath, heading over to where he thought the list had been. Picking up a nearby magnet, he placed the list on the wall, placing the magnet on it to keep it in place.

"Oh whoa-ho-ho! Francis what is up with that rip?!" It was Toli, "I mean, look at that thing!"

Francis looked away from the girl, "It just happen."

Toli stared at the rip, "It looks so tacky. Anyway, I got your little letter. I'd go with you and stuff, but I just wanted to go alone. I kind of didn't even want to go, but Lindsey was like, 'you have to go' so I was all, 'fine fine fine'. Hope you can find someone though," she was about to pat his ripped shoulder, but she slowly moved her hand over to pat the shoulder which wasn't ripped and smiled, "I'll er, see you then or something! Heh heh!"

She walked away as soon as she was done talking, but if she had waited for Francis' reaction to her statements, she would have seen his face contort and tears run down his cheeks. With a bellow of sadness, Francis rushed back to his office, toppling over anyone who was in his way, damaging his shirt further. His beautiful shirt was just too fragile to wear on a deadline day.

xxxxxxx

Day 30: How to Really Make Someone Accompany You

It was the last day to get designs sent, and the only people running around frantically were those who knew how hectic the day before the deadline day was. So it wasn't as busy as yesterday, but there were still a couple of people having trouble.

Francis disregarded these people, and waited patiently for those who received his letters to respond to him. Some already rejected his letters, but a couple hadn't replied. He couldn't sit still in his chair; at any minute, someone might have barged into his office and yelled, "Yes! I'll go with you to the dinner party! That's what friends do right?! I know I don't know you that well, but it's okay!"

Maybe it wasn't a good idea to ask whoever was on the list. Most of the people he was sure he'd talked to once or twice, but then again… was that even Toli that he talked to yesterday? Or was that Sasha? He was pretty sure it was Toli. But what about the rest? He had just assumed that he had talked to everyone in the building at least once so it would be fine, even if he didn't remember their names. That is, he could remember faces, but was not the best with names. In fact, the only names of the people in the building that he could put a face to were all those who somehow left him with a negative impression. The only exceptions were Jerry, who despite the recent upset got along well with Francis, Clarisse, who was quite stunning in appearance, Feliciano, a rather adorable Italian, Michael, a man who designed what many called "hippie clothes", and Arthur.

Thinking of Arthur, Francis remembered that he still had his mp3 player! Would he never give that thing back?! No, he would not go down in history as a thief of mp3 players! Francis fished around his desk for the mp3, found it, clenched onto it, and opened the door to his office. He poked his head out of the door and called out for Arthur, which was becoming normal additional noise to his coworkers.

Arthur walked over to his office as if he didn't have a single other thing to do, "Hello, Francis. Have you called me over to search for more people I've never met before again?" He said it as a joke, which Francis picked it up and smiled.

"That is not what I call you for this time, sorry you wanted the exercise?" Francis grinned and revealed Arthur's mp3 player, "if I have the mp3 player more then it will be mine, and I can not have that, right?"

The technician shook his head, "Ah…just keep it. You can just erase everything on it if you'd like," after realizing that erasing everything would require the use of a computer, he added, "I can show you how to do it later."

"You are sure?"

"I am sure."

"Want thing in return?"

Arthur clicked his tongue at the top of his mouth, "Think of it as a gift. And that would be 'Would you like anything in return'. Don't think for a second that I've forgotten to correct you on your atrocious grammar skills. I simply haven't been able to catch your mistakes since I've been too busy trying to complete all of these tasks in a reasonable amount of time."

A pang of guilt came over Francis, "Right, I want to say sorry that I made— sorry for making you run around so much yesterday! It was so insane! I even ripped my shirt because there was a crazy crowd. Many people call for you and I add to— added to the work. But you are working well— oh, working hard! It is much to do, yet you continue. It is nice."

"Oh yes. Thank you. Sometimes I feel like I'm doing more work for this dinner party than everyone else and I'm not even going! Er, indirectly doing more work that is," Arthur felt as if his comment was probably out of place, but Francis wasn't offended by it. He felt that Arthur probably had more things to do than most of the designers in the building.

In Francis' mind, it was possible that Arthur had the craziest job in the workplace. It required him to actually deal with everyone that needed help with their computers or anything related to them. While Francis was fine with talking to everyone and anyone, he liked to do so on his own time, but Arthur was on everyone else's time. Days of seclusion while working on designs were days that Francis enjoyed, and even with working, one could set a pace for themselves, but for Arthur, it was a constant job, and he would never know exactly when he was needed.

With that in mind, Francis decided that Arthur was supposed to go to the dinner party. "Why will you not go?"

They had gone over this a little before, but Arthur hadn't confirmed the situation, "Well, as I thought, I wasn't invited. It's fine though, I'll be finding something else to do that night," Arthur quickly and under his breath followed up with, "maybe I'll go out for a drink."

Francis frowned and pondered this for a while as Arthur tried to work out a schedule with himself. Francis listened while thinking, and he could only hear, "I want to go," coating Arthur's voice, though it was the complete opposite of what he was saying. "Arthur, excuse me, but I must talk to Jerry," he murmured as he walked off in the direction of his boss' office.

Arthur followed Francis for a short distance. "To Jerry—wait! I'd rather not have you talk to him about me!"

Francis didn't listen and continued to glide over to Jerry's office. If he hesitated even for a second, then he wouldn't be able to go. Their last meet still had him a bit shaken up, but he believed that he'd be prepared for more rejection now that he had experienced it. In the last couple of days, he had been rejected a couple of times; the uniform idea, people he had sent letters to, his best friend. What was one more rejection?

The quiet part of the building was a less quiet than usual, but the noise was still at a minimum. They must have been rushing for the deadline as well. When Francis knocked on his boss' door, no one looked up since they were absorbed in their work. Jerry quickly opened his door, a smile on his face, "Oh, Francis what brings you here this time? In with ya!"

The two made themselves comfortable in the office; instead of standing, Francis pulled a chair up to Jerry's desk and leaned so that he sat with his elbows on his boss' paperwork. Jerry himself stretched in his chair and yawned, "Everyone's been avoiding me today. They must think I'm going to ask them if they met their deadlines yet. People are funny, aren't they?"

Francis nodded, "It is cute. People are cute at times."

"I'm guessing that today's deadline is in the past for ya, isn't it?" Jerry smiled, then sighed, "I forgot to say sorry for last week. I just couldn't believe that someone would come here to talk about the tech guy!"

The designer clapped his hands together, "Prepare yourself! I am here to talk about Kirkland again!"

Jerry laughed and leaned back into his chair, "Oh noooo, alright what is it this time? Please make it just be some negative comment."

"Sorry, it is not good or bad, it is a question. I want to ask why he is not invited to the dinner party. I would like if he also was enjoy the party. I want that you to invite him since he is part of the company whether you say he is or not." Francis straightened himself out in his chair so that they could be at eye level.

His boss stared at him without a word, then began to grit his teeth, "Okay. Promise not to tell anyone what I'm gonna tell ya, alright Francis?"

Francis agreed not to tell anyone, but jokingly exclaimed, "Sounds serious!"

Jerry chuckled but scratched his head, "Look. Technically, Kirkland isn't part of the company. He isn't even on contract, though we did have him sign something saying that he can't sue us if he gets hurt or something. We just have him come in and we pay him every other week, and sometimes every other month. We just expect him to come in, and if he doesn't then we can find someone else eventually."

Seeing that Francis was a bit confused, Jerry went with another approach, "Kay, so ya know how some people hire gardeners off the street and kind of just pay them every time they work for them? He's like one of those. It's…eh, kinda illegal not really, but it's fine as long as the worker and the one paying are both okay with it."

"He is not even under contract?" Francis repeated his boss.

"Nope. Now will you let it go?" Jerry asked, smiling warmly.

The designer nodded, "There is nothing I can do or say if Kirkland is not on paper," he quickly added, "though it would be nice if you hire Kirkland permanently since he is good with the computers."

Jerry shrugged, "It's true, the guy knows his stuff, but we'll just leave it alone for now."

"Right. Thank you, Jerry. I will go now!" Francis smiled, stood, and headed out of the office.

"Bye Francis, glad we could clear things up!"

Francis walked back to his office, a huge smile on his face. Everyone who looked at him could only imagine what he was smiling at. He was laughing at everyone that was rushing to meet their deadlines, wasn't he? Cocky jerk. Francis made his way inside of his office and sat down in his chair, thinking of the consequences for what he was about to do. He could find none. He poked his head outside of his door and called for Arthur again.

He was over in a hurry, "W-What did you say?! You are going to make him despise my very being! If I was not invited then I was not invited! That is that!"

"Arthur, did you want to go to the dinner party?" Francis asked with a calm smile.

The tech guy crossed his arms, "I have other plans now, so even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to." Said plans were drinking alone all night and maybe not leaving the house the next day, but he'd rather not have Francis do anything which might have put his money in danger.

"Ah, but your plans can not be as fun as the party! It is free food, drinks, dancing, many pretty women, and many handsome men, and all of our hard work worn by the people made to wear it, and you will not be able to see the clothes any other place, because it is our designs," Francis sighed dreamily, "and the best part is to see how beautiful the place is lighted and they shine on our suit and dress and make every person have shining eye. It is romantic, yet it is a friendship time, where we all celebrate our many success, our happiness, our years together. Drinking, being happy…drinking."

He had Arthur at free drinks, but not being invited was simply not being invited, "Well, I hope you enjoy yourself. You sound very excited."

Francis finally pulled his card, which may or may not have upset his boss later, "Arthur, why don't you go with me?"

The technician tried to search Francis' face to make sure that he wasn't joking. Through the Frenchman's smile, he could see that he was serious. "You want me to go with you? Me?" Arthur asked, resisting the urge to turn around and see if Francis hadn't been speaking to someone else the whole time.

"Yes, why not?" Francis laughed, and continued, "We are allow to invite one outside of the company, so even if you are not invited, you can go! Is good! But it is a fun time, you will go?"

A quick moment of silence fell over the two. Maybe Arthur was deciding on whether he wanted to go or not, or maybe he wasn't too sure of what to say, but he eventually answered the fashion designer, "If that's how it works then of course I'll go."

xxxxxxx

Night 30: How to Make Someone Listen to You

Francis barged into the apartment, ran around in circles, and plopped down onto Gilbert, who was taking a nap on the couch. After the napping man uttered a sound of discomfort, Francis shouted a couple of words in French in a happy tone.

"Alright, Francis is out of order. Gotta call the repairman," Gilbert mumbled groggily.

Francis was pushed off of the German, but he got back up and laughed menacingly. "Oh Gilbert, your plan to ruin the night of dinner party for me are not more," Francis ignored his friend when he told him that he wasn't planning to ruin anything, "it is because I now have some person who will go and we will walk in as best of friends and we will say 'too bad Gilbert could not be here! Let us merry and not take the food home for him!' Except, he does not know of you I think."

Gilbert shrugged and pretended to go back to his nap. Francis took off his shoes and poked the man with his toes. Seeing that he was gaining no reaction, he sat on him. Gilbert rolled over, sending the Frenchman to the floor with a thud.

Francis sighed and placed his head and elbows on his friend, "Gilbeeeert! Gilbert do you not want to hear how I get some person to go with?"

"Nah."

"Giiilbeeeert. I all the time hear all the story of you, you can hear the story I have too! It is a best friend thing! We are not best friends? Please? Pleeaase? I will not say bad things about the TV and how stupid of show you watch. Please?"

A fake snore was Gilbert's reply. This was unacceptable, so Francis removed himself from off of Gilbert and readied his hands. Before Gilbert could guess what Francis was going to do, the designer began tickling his friend who, as one would guess, was unable to hold in his laughter. But in retaliation, he rolled over and fell on Francis.

"Ow ow! Gilbert! You are more heavy!" Francis inched his way out from under Gilbert.

"I know," Gilbert returned to his spot on the couch, "I saved up enough weight just for that type of situation. You can say it's evolution, or adaption or…whatever. You get my point. So what's so important that you had to disturb my nap?"

Francis took a seat next to Gilbert and tried to make himself comfy; there were a couple of bags of chips on the couch which he was attempting not to sit on. "Today, I talk to Jerry again, and he say that he did not invite our technician, Arthur, to the dinner party because he is not part of company."

"Sounds familiar," Gilbert muttered, reaching around Francis to take a chip.

"Yes, it is! He says that Arthur is not there but is there because he is like… the people you can make do the work of lawn but they pay Arthur all time he come in."

Gilbert snapped, "Sounds illegal!"

"I think it is not legal—illegal, yes!" Francis clasped his hands together, "then I call Arthur over to office, and I make him go with me!"

"Sounds legit!"

Francis frowned, "Why are you do that?"

"Do what?" Gilbert smiled, taking another chip.

"You say 'sounds' in front of all the words. Why is this?" Francis asked.

Gilbert shrugged and laughed, getting up and heading over to his room. He ruffled Francis' hair, "Well good job on forcing someone to put up with you for the night. I'm going to bed!"

Francis blinked and counted the bags of chips, "Forcing—why is all the bags here?! You will take these up!"

The German fake snored and locked the door to his room, "Night!"

xxxxxxx

Day 31: How to Create an Idea

Going back to work on regular work was always a nice change of pace for most of the workers at the company, and for Francis, it was no exception. Today, he had a meeting with many of his coworkers, and they pretty much came to the conclusion that their next sets should be lesser versions of the designs they made for the dinner party; the reason being that most of the workers had been receiving feedback from the boss of their partner company. Eight times out of ten, they were received positively.

So Francis already started to work on the designs. Unlike the dinner party designs, he'd have to think of all the people who would even think of wearing the clothes. While sketching out a quick design, Francis suddenly stopped and stared at the sheet of paper. The design wasn't toned down enough, but it was nice so far, so he couldn't think of making it go to waste. But he had an idea of what to do with it.

He turned on his computer and poked his head out of his door again, "Arthur! Come please?" The technician probably didn't hear the last part, but he shuffled over at the first part. Francis led him inside of his office and sat down in his chair, waiting for the computer to load, "I want you to decide something."

"Are you making me do your job?" Arthur asked suspiciously.

Francis frowned, "Why would—Oh! Here," Francis found his scrap folder, held up the unfinished sketch, and grinned, "since you will go, you have to have a outfit. Pick one!"

"That would be 'an' outfit," Arthur surveyed the designs, "I would have to wear one of these?"

Another frown grew onto Francis' face, "You do not like them?"

Arthur looked down, surprised at the designer's tone. Weren't they supposed to be able to take a little rejection and critique? Either way, it wasn't that Arthur hadn't liked the clothes, "I do like them. I just haven't worn anything like these."

"Huh," Francis gazed over the designs, "I have a better idea; tell me the measurements you have, and I will make a surprise."

The technician furrowed his brow, "Is Jerry fine with this? Did uh, did you ask if this was alright?"

Eh? Since when was Jerry the boss of Francis? Oh, well maybe he was, but Francis was convinced that Jerry wouldn't care; Arthur was coming as his guest and not with the company. "Probably!"

"Probably?! Look, he was already annoyed with my existence when you brought up the uniforms, I'd rather not enrage him further," Arthur's voice trailed off on a gloomy note.

Francis leaned away from the back of his seat, interested in Arthur's comment about Jerry, "He told you about how that went?"

Arthur looked askew, "Of course," he kneeled next to Francis, "I should tell you, I'm not actually a part of this company, so I should have known how that would have gone. Sure, they had given me this uniform since I had been wearing my casual clothes when I began to work here, but I doubt that they would give me something better. And I'm sure that they wouldn't like the idea of making a dinner party outfit for me, because you see, I'm sort of just-"

"Oh yes, I know this."

The techie jolted up, almost knocking Francis' chair over, "You do?! I mean, you do?" He wondered if Francis even knew what he was about to say.

"Yes, so I would make it myself—the clothes for you," Francis shrugged his shoulders, "nothing they can do if I design and make it all myself, right?"

They both pondered this, though Francis pretended that he wasn't. Eventually, Arthur nodded and asked, "How much should I pay you for this?"

A laugh took hold of Francis, "Oh please, I do this for fun! It is just good that I can do this for living!"

xxxxxxx

Night 31: How to Reveal a Feeling

Gilbert's table had never looked so white and pencil-ish; Francis had occupied his half of the black table with designs after designs of designs, all potential outfits for Arthur. He felt working on Arthur's outfit while at work wasn't a good idea anymore. He could easily just say that the designs were for work, but he would rather not lie about his work. The way he chose would lead to less free time and most likely less time to spare, but he didn't mind. Sometimes keeping himself busy was all he really wanted out of life.

Francis' roommate stared down at the designs on the table, not used to the designer not bugging him about something on the couch. "I don't see you working on designs here a lot," he almost whispered it, then took a seat at the table, "what are these for? You didn't miss a deadline did you?"

The Frenchman grimaced and peered at his friend, "It would be designs that are to be for you if you did go to the dinner party," he started on a new design and before he focused on it, he continued his remark with, "designs are for the technician at this time."

"Hm," Gilbert hummed in an interested manner, doubting that Francis would go through all of that extra work for him. He had been to a couple of those things, though it was a completely different event, and all he wore was a nice suit. "So do people have to have specially made outfits to go or something?"

Francis shook his head, "I could not make a uniform that he can wear, I am making a outfit that he can wear to the dinner party."

Another glance at the designs told Gilbert that Francis really was giving these designs his all; all for the technician that was going with him to the party. He picked up the design that was closest to him then laughed quietly, yet almost menacingly, "You must really like this guy!" He told himself that he didn't mean to say that out loud, but seeing Francis' reaction left him with no regrets.

"It is not that I like Arthur, I just think it is bad that he is not treat same way as all other workers," as Francis continued, the unconvinced expression never left Gilbert's face, "I know he is not in company but he is do so much that he is in company to me!"

Gilbert set the design in his hand down to pick up another, "Why do you feel entitled to making him part of the company? That's not your job you know."

The designer couldn't answer for a while, and even when he did, it was a simple, "I don't know."

"I can tell you," Gilbert set down the design and folded his hands together, seeming oddly professional, though it wasn't clear what he was a professional of, "I can see that you actually really like this guy. And maybe if you didn't like him then you'd just leave him be, but that's not the case."

Before Gilbert could continue, Francis scoffed and went back to work on the designs. He felt that Gilbert was off base. Way off base. He couldn't just leave him be, or else he wouldn't be spoken for! He knew that his voice could be heard, but no one would spare time to listen to the technician, so he felt that if he didn't say something about his uniform or allow him into the dinner party then no one would! To add to that, "I only bother him because you did not want to go with me. If you say you were going with me then I would not even be doing any of this!"

"Yeah? Even before I told you that I wasn't going with you, you were going on about the guy," Gilbert wiggled his eyebrows in a way that would make most uncomfortable, "Sounds like you would have bothered him either way. Maybe you wouldn't have gone to the dinner party with him, but you were still bothering him."

Francis opened his mouth to protest, but then quickly turned his head away from Gilbert to think about what was said. Surely that wasn't true, and he was ready to deny it, but he was beginning to think that maybe he would have bothered Arthur even if Gilbert had been going with him. And again, Gilbert's question echoed within his mind, why did he feel entitled to making Arthur a part of the company, even if it was something small? He didn't even speak to most of his coworkers regularly, so he wondered why he was always trying to speak to Arthur somehow. Wait what? That wasn't what he was trying to do; he just wasn't all that great with computers, so he would ask Arthur for assistance—

even if he was pretty sure of what he was doing.

Okay, so maybe that did sound a bit suspicious, but Francis assured himself that he only called him so much because he was taking advantage of the fact that the company had a technician. And he was only going with him to the dinner party because he was available. And he had only suggested that a new uniform should have been made because the outfit and the color really didn't fit him or the company. And lastly, he was only making his outfit for the dinner party because…

Why was he doing this again? Because everyone that worked at the company would have elegant outfits, and since he considered Arthur a part of the company, he wanted to make sure he dressed like he was part of the company. But once again, Gilbert's question of why he felt entitled to making Arthur a part of the company? He could have just left Arthur to pick out something at a store, or from his closet though he had told him that he had never worn anything even as simple as the designs that he showed him. He wanted to let Arthur wear something nice, and even before that he had wanted Arthur to wear something nice.

There was the reply that Francis was looking for. "I am only being nice to him. It is good, I am a good person. I do good thing here and there for no reason."

"Wow, do you know how long it took you to reply? Going on five minutes. Do you know what that means?" Gilbert asked, receiving a hesitant 'no' head shake from Francis, "I'm pretty sure that it means that you took about five minutes to try to come up with an excuse for yourself. Someone who doesn't need an excuse would reply in about…ah I don't know, at least a minute, and they sure wouldn't drop the 'I'm just so nice' bomb!"

Francis covered his ears and groaned; Gilbert was simply going to go on about how he believed that he liked Arthur, and he didn't want to hear another word of it. Not another word. But of course, Gilbert poked Francis' cheek multiple times and laughed, "Don't even try to block me out; you know covering your ears doesn't do anything. Let me remind you just how not nice you are," he took one of Francis' hands away from his ears, "In France, you spent all those years pretty much throwing people below you just so you could get to the top. You shredded them to pieces, tore them apart. You ruined people's careers, destroyed things if you didn't get your way…"

The fashion designer stared emotionlessly at his roommate as he went on. "You took what you could take and usually took them from others," Gilbert smirked and continued, "but oh, you're so nice."

"Your point?" Francis asked.

The German guffawed at Francis' reply, "And it doesn't sound like you even care about any of that!" After he calmed his laughter, Gilbert went on to the point, "Francis, the only time you do so-called nice things is when you want something, whether you know it or not. There is never 'no reason' for you not to do something, because you're not a nice person that does nice things for no reason."

Francis guided his hand to flip his hair and averted his gaze from Gilbert, who continued to stare at the blonde. A couple of seconds passed before Francis looked back to his friend with a sly smile, "This is true maybe, but I will not admit it to you. I will never hear the end if I say that there is a reason."

A quick laugh followed Francis' words, "You don't need to admit it to me, I already know, not that I care to know."

"You are thinking of what the dinner is at this moment, am I correct?" Francis chuckled.

Gilbert pushed all of Francis' designs into a stack in order to clear the table. "Yeah! What else could I be thinking of?"

xxxxxxx

Day 32: How to Deal with Errors

Inside the company building wasn't as noisy as usual, so the odd peace and quiet delighted the Frenchman. He stretched his arms out and curved his body against his chair in order to relax himself. A sigh escaped his lips as he bent back into shape. It was one of his favorite feelings, but maybe he was just getting old. No, of course not, everyone enjoyed that feeling. Right?

His weekend would start the next day, and he had a couple of things to do. But those were not on his mind; he was still thinking of the outfit that he was making for Arthur. He was almost ashamed to admit it, through all of his years as a fashion designer such a thing hardly ever happened, but he was stuck. Francis was unable to create a design which screamed for Arthur to wear it, and it was only a bit frustrating. He figured that it happened to even the best of designers, grouping himself into the 'best of designers' club of course.

He had told himself that he would not work on Arthur's outfit at work, but he really wanted to! He was getting nowhere fast with it, but he was sure that he would be able to continue working on it at home anyway, he would have to. So he stared at his work, not moving a muscle, only smiling down gently at the swirls and waves that his pencil had spat out. It was a nice design, and it was based off of a suit he had made for the dinner party, but instead of being a tuxedo, the design in front of him was a jumpsuit. Cute but…Arthur's outfit.

Francis nearly slammed his head down on his desk, but jolted right back up, laughing a bit. Maybe it'd be better to get an idea for Arthur's outfit then use that as motivation to finish his work. Yes. Great idea. He scooted his chair away from his desk then ever so dramatically stood up and opened his door. The actions were becoming a usual occurrence to those around Francis' office. So they all expected the loud call of, "Arthur," which once again rang throughout the area like an alarm clock.

There wasn't much delay but instead of some sort of remark about helping him with something, Arthur quickly asked, "Did you make sure everything was clear? I'm allowed to go? Should I stay out of sight?"

Surprised to be bombarded with questions he didn't have answers for, Francis blinked and laughed nervously, "Calm down, down. Do not worry of these! Yes you can go! You are a guest of my own, they can not deny you! It is the rule, but they can not let you when they think you have weapon or alcohol that is not of the party's."

Arthur took this in for a while then frowned. "Well, there goes my plans to bring ale and a cleaver," he smiled apologetically when he noticed Francis' fearful expression, "oh come now, that was a joke!"

"Oh," he smiled back, "I wasn't too sure—here come in please?" He guided the technician into his office.

The designer's office seemed a little more messy than usual to Arthur, but to Francis, it looked the same. He kept his observation at a simple, "You seem busy."

Francis shook his head, took a seat, and pulled out a notepad from his desk, "I am not busy, but I do want to ask things of what I should do."

"I would correct you, but I'm not too sure of what you were trying to say," Arthur folded his arms and arched a brow.

At this, Francis looked up quickly, staring at the man but then looking back down at his notepad. He wondered how he would word this without flat-out saying that he was stuck on a design for his outfit. That wouldn't be very cool to say, though he was sure that Arthur was aware that no one was perfect. Still, he decided that it was lame to say that he was asking because he was stuck. Just asking was fine in his book, "It is good to know what it is that person you make something for like so I can make the outfit seem more personal. Yes." That should have done it.

Arthur shook his head, "Maybe you should try saying that another way. I'm still not too sure of what you mean."

So maybe it didn't do it, but that couldn't have been too hard to understand. Francis tried again, "I am wanting that you tell me all that you like in a outfit so I can make the outfit more for you."

The technician shrugged his shoulder, showing that he didn't understand what the Frenchman was saying. Francis was about to curse his limited English and just write down what he was trying to say until Arthur smirked and said, "I can not understand you very well, Francis. But maybe if you say everything correctly then I would be able to understand you."

So this was his game. Jerk. Francis gritted his teeth, thought carefully about his last sentence, then attempted it again, "I want that you— I ask that you tell me what it is that you like when it comes to clothes. It is a request of— for the party."

Arthur nodded, "I suppose that will do. But I must ask, wasn't the outfit supposed to be a surprise?"

Oh. Oh, that was right, but due to the circumstances this would have to not be a surprise anymore. "It can not be a surprise now."

"Did Jerry say something about it?" Arthur asked, concerned about any of the consequences which he believed could follow the outfit-making.

Francis shook his head, "That is not it. It can not be a surprise is all."

"I would really like to know why."

The worry on the technician's face almost caused Francis to break the news, but he simply tried to tip-toe around the actual reason. "It is not a thing that is important."

"Please, if you're incapable of answering me properly then I'm incapable of helping you properly," Arthur narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, attempting to seem menacing, and placed his hands on his hips.

The guy sure was persistent, but Francis still attempted to leave his reason out of the picture. "I only want to know to give a good idea of what to do."

Arthur leaned back again, looking down at the man holding a notepad. A triumphant smile grew onto his face, but he didn't speak, instead he allowed any of Francis' thoughts to soak in before he dealt his word blow, "You're stuck, aren't you?"

"I am not stuck," Francis lied.

"Golly, I thought that a top designer would have had little to no difficulties with such a thing," the technician grinned as if he was back in high school and somehow blackmailed an ex, "I'm rather surprised! Oh, oh ho this is rich!"

The designer rolled his eyes, "A word or more from you and I may not make a outfit," after Arthur giggled, Francis continued, "to be a designer is not all the time easy, it is not all the time easy with me too."

"I'm sure, Francis. Let me just bask in this glorious moment; Francis Bonnefoy is having a rather difficult time while Arthur Kirkland, technician, is not doing anything in particular," Arthur hummed with satisfaction,

Francis shook his head, "I am not having a difficult time! It is a block, and I tell you again, this is not a work design. It is not count if I do the design out of work—why is it so good that I have a bad time and you do not?!"

Arthur looked down at Francis with a rather innocent smile. "You have given me a hard time every now and then with this job, even if it wasn't my job to, let's say, give people letters. I find it nice to see the tables turned," he looked down abashedly, "I was also beginning to think that certain jobs were difficulty free, and that my own was just a hassle. Seeing that even the great Francis Bonnefoy has troubles? Well, that sounds comforting, in a way."

The designer was only slightly moved by the technician's words, but he still felt that it was a rude way to get his feelings across. "That is nice, Arthur," he began, readying his pencil by his notepad, "I will like to hear what you like with clothes now."

At Francis' attitude, Arthur sputtered a laugh and opened the door, "I can not make your job—pardon—your out-of-work tasks that easy, can I? I expect a surprise, Francis. I don't care if it's a rag or some… fancy getup. As long you feel that it fits me, then that will be a surprise in itself."

With a mischievous-sounding chuckle, Arthur left Francis to himself. Francis, who had been awaiting the man's preferences, kept his eyes on the door and dropped his notepad into his lap. He jumped in shock as the notepad fell onto his foot, then onto the floor. His gaze fell upon the notepad for awhile, but eventually picked it up scratching his head. The nerve of that darn technician; that was another type of rejection wasn't it? The mind-blowing part was that he wasn't even asking for his own benefit, it was all for Arthur, yet Arthur left the room as if he was asking him to sign up for Blue Piece or something.

He wanted a surprise? Fine, he would give him a surprise; whatever the surprise would be. Francis cursed under his breath, he wanted to find out what his favorite colors were at least—wait a second…

xxxxxxx

Night 40: How to Find the Right Time

Almost right when he came home from work, Francis began to work on Arthur's outfit. He had purchased the fabric the night before, and had long since known what Arthur's dinner party outfit would be. One could see that the designer was excited to finally begin the outfit, and as the whirr of the sewing machine filled the room his smile seemed to grow. Along with designing clothes, he had a love for making them as well, whether they were for him or someone else.

His task went undisturbed for a couple of hours, the fabric sliding along his hand like soft water pouring out of a faucet. He wasn't sure why, but he had not expected any interruptions, a foolish move. A presence was sensed in the room, or maybe it wasn't sensed and simply heard over the loud humming of the sewing machine.

Gilbert nearly tumbled into the kitchen, but he groaned out in frustration, pointing threateningly at Francis' sewing machine, "That thing is-"

Francis looked up at the man and grinned, "Yes?" He continued to work his sewing machine, but Gilbert wasn't going to have that.

"Cut that thing off! I can't hear my show!"

"Hm?" Francis was going to pretend that he hadn't heard him over his sewing machine, but he figured that he could just work something out with his roommate, so he stopped working for a bit, "Gilbert, you watch the shows all of the days. I begin the outfit for Arthur and I say I will stop. Okay?"

The roommate shook his head, "Yeah no. The show's on now, and it won't be on when you finish that, so that's not going to work. You're off tomorrow, why don't you just work on it then?"

Francis analyzed the outfit hopelessly. He knew that he had a point but, "But I want to begin this now."

The weak argument was almost ignored. Gilbert, of course, knew how Francis would want to complete his tasks right away, and he knew that waiting for the last minute to finish a task was something Francis rarely ever did. He understood, but the show Dinoplant was a little more important. He rolled his eyes, going back into the room with the TV, "Show's almost done. I'll let you know. Just— it's too loud to concentrate!"

xxxxxxx

Day 41: How to Work Diligently

Unlike the day before, Francis spent his whole Sunday sewing Arthur's outfit. His work went uninterrupted since Gilbert knew that Francis would be sewing and went out for once. It was something that Francis was happy about; he had the place to himself, there was a nice silence (save for the sewing machine and his sighs of enjoyment), and his roommate was removing himself from the couch for more than an hour.

He smiled and looked down at his work, the surprise. And what a surprise it would be. He would saunter into the building with Arthur, both of them wearing cocky smiles. Jerry would smile and say, "Oh would ya look at that outfit!" It would be grand, and everyone would have a wonderful time.

Francis looked up at the clock in the kitchen. It was one in the afternoon, and he had a lot of time to spare. He would have to stop and cook dinner, but he felt that he could get a lot of the outfit done by then. He looked back down at his work and with no rush at all, he resumed his sewing.

xxxxxxx

Day 44: How to Not Receive an Adequate Answer

There was a hesitant knock on Francis' door, and the designer could only wonder who it could be. But really, he knew that it was probably Arthur.

He opened the door to his office and smiled. "Arthur! What is it?" he paused for a moment then stepped out of Arthur's way, "I can have you enter?"

Arthur wondered why he was asking for him to come in, but really, he knew that he was probably just asking if he had wanted to come in. "Thank you," he stepped inside and sat on the floor as Francis closed his door, "I am not here for anything in particular."

"Oh?" Francis sat on the floor as well, which wasn't surprising to Arthur, but he hadn't exactly expected it, "Bored of work?"

The technician shook his head, "I would not call myself bored; there is simply no one in need of my assistance at the moment." Francis wasn't too sure what to think of Arthur's visit, especially if he didn't have a reason to visit. Francis did have work to do, but as usual, he was ahead of schedule. As soon as he figured that the visit was going to be awkward, Arthur piped up again, "The outfit is becoming a wonderful work of art I presume?"

So that was the real reason behind his visit! The fellow was simply curious about the outfit? Francis was still a bit peeved with Arthur for not telling him what exactly he would like for an outfit, so he shrugged and grinned quite mockingly, "I can not say. It is to be a surprise."

Arthur frowned for a while, but he quickly found himself chuckling, "Oh, fine. I suppose I wasn't too curious about it anyhow."

"You should be curious," Francis simpered.

Such a phrase shouldn't have meant much to Arthur if he wasn't curious, but the fact of the matter was that Arthur Kirkland was indeed curious. He very much wanted to know what the outfit Francis was making him would look like. Maybe just knowing the color would satisfy his curiosity, or the material might have made him nod or shake his head. He would not receive a bit of information though, except the vague and very opinionated description of, "It is nice."

xxxxxxx

Day 45: Another Work Day

Sounds from outside were drowned out of Francis' mind as he worked diligently on designs and templates. Those on the other side of his door were possibly not too noisy, and the office's lighting allowed him to focus on his work. At the pace he was going, he would finish his projects in no time, and if he did finish, he was thinking of running random work errands if they were available. They made for a little extra when it came to paychecks, and that was always desirable. Francis would also like running the errands just for the fun of it, but he wasn't able to do them often.

The designer stretched and promptly returned to his work when he felt nice and relaxed. He wasn't really thinking about anything else, but he felt like he should have been. Then again, there wasn't much else to think about as he sketched a quick pattern and dabbed an exclamation mark on the side to show that he was fond of it. He even pushed the thoughts of maybe thinking about something else out of his head; instead he began to wonder if a simpler pattern would work better.

The noise outside seemed to get louder, and for a moment, Francis was annoyed. He opened a drawer and searched it for a short while, pulling out the mp3 player Arthur had told him to keep. He popped in the earphones and pressed play, hearing a rather interesting song in English. But soon even the music was noise that he zoned out to. His work, once again, was his main focus, and like all of the other work days, he wasn't accepting interruptions.

xxxxxxx

Day 46: How to Send a Fax

Here he was, Francis email sender extraordinaire, face to face with a new yet old mode of communication; the fax machine. The man and the machine competed in quite an interesting staring match, but eventually, Francis blinked after realizing that he had no idea how a fax machine worked. He bit his lip and looked around at the people working on their projects. None of them looked up at him, maybe because they expected him to walk around like always, complimenting things. The terror! One can't make eye contact with such a fiend!

With a sigh, Francis wandered around the building with his designs in hand. Who faxed anymore anyway?! Not Bonnefoy! No siree! How dare the one he had to send his designs to request the work in fax! The person on the other side was obviously a demon in a sparkling suit! That had to be it! What really saddened the designer was that someone had tried to teach him how to send faxes years ago, but he had completely ignored them since he was certain that he would never have to send a fax ever.

After pacing around for a while, Francis leaned against a wall and scouted the area for someone who didn't seem too busy, but everyone seemed to be doing something. He guessed that it couldn't be helped, "Arthur," he called shuffling back over to the fax machine. A couple of people looked up then, but quickly went back to work after seeing that Francis was the one shouting.

The technician made his way over to Francis, but before he could open his mouth, the designer asked, "How do I send with a fax?"

Arthur tried to think of a way to explain without having to do it for him, but he ended up frowning and standing over the fax machine. He held his hands out for the papers that Francis had with him, and he quickly received them. He was about to place them into the tray until he noticed that something was missing. "Francis, where is the coversheet for this?"

Francis scrunched up his eyebrows, "The what?" At this, Arthur smacked himself on the forehead and groaned.

"Here, we'll just," Arthur took a blank paper from someone's desk and pulled a pen from out of his pocket, "use this. What is the name of the person that you are sending this to, and their fax number?"

The fashion designer stared blankly at the technician, and seemed to look as though the man asked him if he could fly on a bicycle. Arthur shook his head and laughed harshly, "Well, this might be a long process!"

All that's important is that the fax was sent and the coversheet's message read, "It's a beautiful modern day to send a fax!" They both hoped that they'd keep their jobs after the "rebellious" message.

xxxxxxx

Day 50: How to Help in Odd Ways

Francis no longer had work to do, and that was that. He wasn't fired, in fact, the message was ignored, it was just that he had finished his work and didn't have anything on his immediate schedule. Just as planned! He was able to do some sort of errand!

He stepped out of his office and grinned as he began to walk around. He was obviously searching for Arthur, and when he found him, he grabbed onto his arm and asked if he was busy. When the tech guy asked him why, he simply dragged him through the workplace.

He stopped in front of Jerry's door, but only because of Arthur's loud protest of, "Hey! Why are we going in there?!"

The designer jumped in surprise, "Arthur, the area is silent," Francis smiled as he gestured at the folks who gazed at them in annoyance.

Arthur apologized silently to the people and tried to say something else, but Francis was already knocking on Jerry's door. "Come on in!" Jerry shouted from inside.

The two walked into the office, Francis oozing excitement and Arthur seemingly worried. "Jerry!"

"Francis!" Jerry flashed a rather charismatic smile, then it dulled a bit when he noticed that Arthur was there. He drawled in a disapproving manner, "Francis."

His employee laughed cheerfully and shook his head, "No no, we are here to help on errands!"

"That would be 'help with errands'," Arthur whispered his correction too quietly, but when he realized what the fashion designer meant, he scowled, "we are doing what?!"

Jerry mulled this over then smiled. "Alright. Technician, I suppose this can count for something too if ya wanna do these with him," he found a paper and after scribbling down some instructions, he handed it toward Francis, "shouldn't take too long. Just go down to the seamstress and make sure everything's going alright."

"What are these?" Arthur asked as he peered at the instructions.

Jerry shrugged, "Well, Francis knows what it means. It's kinda a designer thing, so don't worry about it." The explanation wasn't meant to be offensive, but it did seem to come off as so. The men pretended to shrug it off and bid their boss adieu.

When they made it outside of the building, Francis giggled, sort of like a schoolgirl, "I will show you how to do the instruction, it is not bad."

Arthur twisted his mouth a bit, "It isn't a big deal. If it is a designer thing, then it shouldn't matter to me."

"I want you to do the instructions," Francis smiled quite oddly. Arthur noticed the expression and raised a brow. He guessed that he would be following those instructions.

Their destination wasn't far; a building decorated nicely on the outside, and on the inside were mirrors, seamstresses working on sewing machines, dresses, suits, and other brightly colored things. The floor was carpeted with a solid burgundy-like color, and the walls were wallpapered with a lined and polka dotted pattern. There were a couple of rows of chairs for those who wanted to sit and watch people sew or something. Arthur wasn't too sure why there were so many chairs really. Did they really expect so many people to sit around and stare at people sewing? Really.

Francis urged Arthur up to the counter, where a bespectacled lady sat with a roster full of names. "Marjorie! It has been long," Francis sang out.

"Heh? Who could this be?" Marjorie asked, adjusting her glasses.

A laugh shot from out of Francis, "It is me-"

"Francis!" A friendly hug was shared between the designer and the seamstress, "I would recognize that laugh anywhere!" Just not the face apparently.

The designer turned to Arthur and gestured toward him, "This is Arthur, I am to teach him how to do the business! Arthur, this is old good friend, Marjorie!"

Marjorie nodded at Arthur, "Nice to meet you, Arthur. I bet you're just itching to get into the fashion business! What, with that rag you're wearing, it looks like you could really use a step into the world of fashion."

Before Arthur could get offended, Francis responded as well, "Ah I know! I try to get Jerry to change but he did not like the idea! It is not a good make!"

"And that material must make him work up a sweat," Marjorie frowned, looking over Arthur's uniform with her eyes, "surely they could have picked out a more fitting color."

Upon seeing Arthur's irritation, Marjorie turned back to Francis, "Anyway, what did you two need?"

Arthur was amazed to see the two speak of his uniform as if it was really important, but he rolled his eyes and brushed it off. "Jerry told us that we're supposed to see if everything is going alright." Francis whipped out the paper with the instructions after Arthur's reply.

Marjorie grinned, "Jerry's still writing down the instructions for you?"

"It is for if I forget," Francis passed Arthur the instructions, "but now, it is for Arthur!" Arthur read the instructions and instantly became confused; they just said 'check the clothes, pins, needles, and progrprt'.

The technician slowly looked over to the Frenchman and stared at him with a rather aggravated countenance, "You expect me to know what these mean?"

Francis and Marjorie chuckled together, leaving Arthur feeling like a child who committed serious actions but could only come across as cute to adults. "We will help! It is easy," said Francis.

"Yes, follow me into the back and we'll get you started," Marjorie's smile was reassuring and got Arthur to follow her into the back room of the building as Francis tagged along.

In the back were a couple of workers who switched rooms almost instantly, taking their work with them. Other than them, there were even more mirrors and clothes.

The two stood in front of Arthur; Marjorie with her roster in hands, arms placed in front of her like a maid or a nun would, and Francis with his hands behind his back, appearing a bit coy. They had attempted to seem innocent, like the task they were about to show Arthur was simple, but their false body language had failed, for Arthur was quick to assume that the little errand Francis wanted him to do was probably not too simple.

"So," Francis tilted closer to Arthur and grabbed his arm, "come close, you will check the clothes!"

Arthur frowned, hesitated as Francis pulled him closer to a row of suits and dresses on hangers, "What exactly does that mean?"

Francis turned to Marjorie and chuckled, "What is the way he is to do? Try or check?" His voice was at a whisper, though everyone in the area could obviously hear him.

"How about he tries the first two?" Marjorie also took to whispering.

"Even if-"

"Even if!"

The two grinned as they focused their attention on Arthur again, "Arthur, you are not a lot big or not a lot small."

Marjorie unhooked a hanger off of the rack and handed it to Arthur, "Try this on and see if it's made properly, please."

Arthur took what was simply a nice blue suit and shook his head, "I'm almost sure that this is not how this sort of thing would work!"

Francis and Marjorie flashed serious expressions, or at least the most serious expressions they could manage, and together replied to Arthur with, "It is."

The whirring of sewing machines echoed as the three stood in silence; Arthur waiting for the two to laugh and the other two waiting for Arthur's next move. Eventually, Arthur gave in, "I suppose it's just a suit. Where do I put this on?"

"Here," Francis' answer wasn't heard since Marjorie answered at the same time.

"Behind the curtain," Marjorie pointed to the left wall and began pushing the man near it, "now hurry on!" As soon as Arthur was out of sight, Marjorie turned to Francis and flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. She scurried back up to the Frenchman and they shared a mischievous grin.

The seamstress reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet, taking out a five dollar bill to hold close to Francis' face, "I bet you five dollars that he won't wear a dress." Her whisper was almost unheard as the sewing machines groaned.

"Oh, you are remain with bet and gambles aren't you, Marjorie?" Francis smirked, lowering her hand back down to her level, which was his way of saying that he'd rather not bet.

She pouted a bit and folded her arms, "Of course. But this is just a little bet! You're not afraid of losing are you?"

Before Francis could tell her that he just didn't want to give into her gambling addiction, Arthur piped up from behind the curtain, "Well it fits, and it seems to be made very well… should I change back now?"

"Of course not! Your friend is obviously not very knowledgeable when it comes to checking clothes," Marjorie laughed with Francis for a second, "you have to walk around in it! Come out!"

There was a long pause, then Arthur finally made his way out from behind the closet, wearing the blue suit. It was actually a little too big, and it was dragging on the floor a bit, much to Francis' dismay, "Stop! Stop stop stop!"

He rushed over to Arthur as the man froze in place. "Make the pants not touch on the ground! Make it not—Arthur make the pants not touch," Francis stopped as Arthur quickly complied, "thank you!"

Relief rushed over Francis and Marjorie, they didn't expect Arthur to not know at least that much about trying on clothes. The seamstress seemed to be a bit upset, "Remember that if there's so much as a loose thread on that then," she brushed some hair out of her eyes then smiled, "then it'll probably come out of Francis' paycheck." That is, if she complained enough.

"It is not the same that a regular man has the suit, but the suit is of a fashion designer. They see all," Francis frowned down at Marjorie, and she nodded in agreement. All the while, Arthur was wondering why they allowed him to wear the outfit in the first place.

Francis crossed his arms, "And women, they see the thing that are not even there," seeing Marjorie grimace, he continued, "We should not have a dress on him."

At this, Arthur decided to butt into their conversation, "A dress?!" The designer and the seamstress quickly looked at him as if they hadn't said anything at all. "I'm not wearing a dress!"

"Of course not," Francis chimed, "dresses are not for an Arthur! This is right, Marjorie?"

Marjorie tilted her head to the side, "They most certainly are not," she dragged her feet up to Arthur and placed a hand on his shoulder, "but maybe next time!"

xxxxxxx

Day 51: How to Make Sure Everything is Okay

Here was another day of work; Francis was conjuring up some stray design while listening to the music of the mp3 player he had received from his technician friend. All the songs were loud, but listening to the lyrics and knowing that he could understand them was enough to delight him. For years, he hadn't understood most English, but after many years, he had finally gained comprehension for the language. The achievement was the second thing on the list of things that he was proud of. First? His designs; he was always proud of his designs. So many years of Francis' life were spent revising rejected designs, taking notes for why 'this' design wasn't appealing, or why 'those' designs just didn't make the cut. Making it so far along in his career was really all he could really dream for. New goals? Sure, but knowing that you've achieved your most aspiring dream makes life seem so much more complete, until you realize that you're still young and have a long life ahead of you in which you no longer have to strive for that goal.

Yes, what was it that one did after they had met their life's goal? Before he could think of something, Francis' thoughts were interrupted by a knock—five knocks at the door. As soon as the door was opened, Arthur rushed in and began going on about something that the designer was unable to understand.

Upon hearing a questioning tone arise in the technician's voice, Francis quickly spoke up, "Arthur! I do not know what you are asking!"

Arthur stopped and stared at Francis, a little surprised that he wasn't able to keep up with him. He breathed and cleared his throat, "The dinner party," he was going to continue, but he wasn't sure of what Francis had caught, if anything. The fashion designer confirmed that he hadn't heard a word of what Arthur said. "What if I'm not supposed to be at the dinner party? What if they kick me out?"

Francis widened his eyes and he chuckled, "What? You will not be kicked out of dinner party. You are worrying of that?"

"Yes! What if they see that I wasn't invited and they kick me out and I lose my job?! What if…"

Before Arthur could continue, Francis grumbled an odd sound of dissatisfaction, "Arthur, do not worry of such things! You are invited not with company, but with me. It is the rules of the party and company can not change. The company has the blacklist, but it is not a thing you are on."

Arthur pondered this, and Francis added in the most assuring voice that he could manage, "Please, I say not to worry. It is fine."

After a while, the assurances were hesitantly accepted, but the technician still seemed a bit nervous about the situation. Francis figured that he would just have to deal with it when the day of the dinner party finally popped up.

xxxxxxx

Day 58: How to Fix a Disk Drive

One might enjoy slow days, and some other person might prefer fast paced procrastinating. Sometimes being a fashion designer could be both of those if one willed it to be so.

Today, Francis' day would be in the middle; he had received a CD of designs from Jerry, and he was to review them. It seemed like a simple task, but Francis was wondering how he would review designs from a CD. What was someone on the CD going to describe the designs through song? Ridiculous.

Francis returned to his office with the CD and turned his computer on, along with its monitor. He took a seat with as much grace as he could muster, possibly attempting to waste time so that he wouldn't have to stare at the screen as it loaded. With a stretch, he logged in and opened his disk tray, placing the CD inside and closing it.

He waited for the computer to load the CD while humming a tune that he had randomly made up. If it had words, it would probably be about CDs and computers. He advanced the song by adding in a higher note. So maybe the song would have been about CDs, computers, and clicks. The clicks became a part of the song at some point as well—why wasn't the CD loading? Usually a window came up asking for actions.

The designer opened the disk slot then closed it again. He waited patiently for the action window to appear, but it was nowhere to be found. After repeating his actions a couple of times, he became frustrated. He shuffled out into the hall and called out for Arthur.

In no time, the technician was at the door, seemingly nervous. After the other day, he hadn't really let the dinner party slip out of his mind. It was possible that he not only feared getting into some sort of trouble, but maybe also how the event would turn out. His outfit? It was a surprise after all. What if Francis was cruel enough to sew something ridiculous for the party? He would have to wear it? As for Francis, he had given up on assuring the technician that nothing would go wrong quite a while ago.

"Arthur, hello! My computer it is not taking the CD I put in," Francis frantically opened and closed the disk slot again, "and you will watch it will not have the window that has all tasks!"

The technician watched and expected the Autoplay window to appear. When it did not, he clicked into 'My Computer' and observed that the disk slot didn't seem to be reading the disk. With this, he took a seat and opened the disk slot to analyze the CD.

"Huh," he whispered, sticking the CD back into its slot.

His small noise puzzled Francis, "What is that? The meaning, I am asking."

"Do you mean to say, 'what does that mean?'" Arthur asked, waiting for the Autoplay window to appear or the CD to appear in the drive select. Francis rolled his eyes and nodded at the correction.

Since the CD didn't appear to be working, Arthur clicked on the start menu and opened the device manager, "It seems that your disk drive isn't working properly, however if I can just go in here…" His voice trailed off as he clicked into a couple of slots and messed with them a bit. Suddenly, the Autoplay window appeared as if it had finally read the disk.

"There it is!" Francis exclaimed while pointing excitedly at the screen, "Thank you!"

Arthur shook his head, "It's most likely because this computer hasn't had an update in a while," he turned to eye Francis seriously, "I believe that you should try to update your computer right now."

"Yes yes, after the work," Francis leaned in to click into the CD. There were a couple of folders with interesting titles. As he opened them, he found them full of images, "I— where is the sound?"

"I doubt that there is any music on this, it's simply a data CD," the technician explained.

This left the fashion designer slightly disappointed; he had been looking forward to criticizing the sender for using sound as a way of getting a visual design across. On the other hand, he was glad that he was still going to be within his comfort zone.

The technician retrieved the mouse and right-clicked on a couple of things. "I strongly advise that you update your computer. Many of the parts will shut down without the proper updates."

"Yes yes. Arthur! Up!" Francis practically forced the technician out of his chair by playfully attacking him with his fingers, "I will do it after!"

Arthur crossed his arms and huffed in frustration, "Hey! I'm serious! Don't come crying to me when your computer stops working! I won't even help!"

"Doubt."

"Pardon?"

Francis smiled up at the technician, "I am doubting. You will help but you say that you will not. It is the job of you, right?"

"Oh please, I don't help a lot of the people that ask for assistance. You're inadequate with computers so I just happen to help you a bit more," Arthur scoffed and began the head out of the office. Before he left, he paused then twisted around, "And the correct way to say that would have been 'It is your job, right?' not 'It is the job of you, right?' That isn't even…" Arthur left before he finished his sentence.

For a while, Francis sat there somewhat confused; it seemed like Arthur had been a bit upset. Or maybe he was just—

"Stop stop stop; I will update your computer whether you like it or not," Arthur rushed back in, moving Francis' chair away from the computer and clicking on certain things. Francis began to move to prevent him from doing so, but Arthur spoke again, "and if you stop me, then you'll be arriving to the dinner party without one Arthur Kirkland."

Francis chuckled and stepped back with his hands in the air defensively, "Okay! Okay, do the thing!"

With a couple of more clicks, Arthur stepped away from the computer with a satisfied sigh. An easy grin appeared on his face, "And there you go. It really is an easy process. At least it wasn't a company update."

"I can work now?" Francis asked.

Arthur scrunched up his eyebrows, "Well, no. You should wait until the update finishes."

"Should?"

"You must, by my demands," Arthur quickly replied, "I believe it should only take thirty minutes."

Thirty minutes, to Francis, were thirty precious minutes that he could have used to finish his tasks. A lot could happen in thirty minutes. Thirty minutes, to Francis, shouldn't have been wasted on an update, so Francis decided that he didn't like updates too much.

xxxxxxx

Night 64: How to Receive Your Image

It would be a lie if someone were to say that it was a long day at the job for Francis; it had been pretty average and nothing really stood out from the other average days. Well, he would guess that the massive amounts of reviews on other designs that he'd been assigned to do had been an interesting change, but it wasn't all that notable.

Casually stepping into the apartment, Francis noticed that there was something out of the ordinary on the table. Gilbert told him what it was from his seat on the couch in the other room, "Your suit came in. You know-the dinner party one I think."

Francis perked up and hastily began to open the case which his suit was in. Since no one at the company could design their own outfit, others did so, and Francis was extremely curious to see what his would look like. As he unzipped the plastic further, he began to excitedly think, "Please be amazing! Please be amazing!"

Finally, the outfit was out of the bag, and Francis held it up to his body with a huge grin. His smile seemed to falter a bit and he raised an eyebrow, but he revived his smile and went off to a mirror, the outfit still held close to his body. His face was a bit concerned as he swerved this way and that to try to get a feel of the outfit; a checkered mainly indigo vest, a cerulean dress shirt, and matching cerulean pants. He hadn't bothered to bring the shoes with him to the mirror, but they matched the vest with the same checkered pattern. There were a lot of other details on the outfit, but that was the base of it.

The fashion designer stood in front of the mirror with a blank face. It wasn't the worst outfit he had ever seen, but for some reason he felt that the outfit didn't fit him very well. Also, checkers? Checkers?!

"Gilbert!" Francis hurried into the room which Gilbert was usually always watching TV, "Gilbert listen at this! This is not what I-"

"No! No no no! Don't complain to me! Go—go over there! Calm down! I'm watching a show okay?!" Gilbert shot up and pointed very forcefully away from the room.

There was an attempt to make an excuse, but Francis gave up and huddled back to the outfit's case. Before he placed the outfit back into the plastic, he looked it over again.
He had finished Arthur's outfit, and he felt that wearing Arthur's outfit might have fit him a bit more than the one before him on the table. If he switched outfits with Arthur, then no one would notice—except the person who designed his outfit maybe. He sighed down at the outfit and felt around at its fabric.

Someone worked hard on the design, or so he hoped. Someone designed the outfit with him in mind, and if they felt that he should wear such an outfit, then he supposed that he would have to wear the outfit and show them that they were right or wrong. It wasn't just about wearing something that possibly fit your image; it was also about being able to see your work in action. Francis uttered a dry chuckle and placed the outfit back into its case. It might have taken him a while, but he told himself that he would try to wear his outfit as proudly as possible.

He carefully hung the outfit in his closet and closed the door. When he made his way back to where Gilbert was, he sat comfortably on the couch with his legs folded on a cushion. For the rest of the night, he silently watched shows with Gilbert and continuously wondered about the outfit. "I will like it later," was all he said during the whole night.

xxxxxxx

Day 68: How to Receive Answers

Both the fashion designer and the technician sat on the floor of the designer's office. Francis was sipping a cup of café au lait while Arthur slowly downed a cup of some sort of black tea, the flavor being some sort of bergamot, almond, and rose blend. They were not watching each other on the ground, but instead, they were concentrating on their own beverages, not attempting to hurry or slow down.

Though no one was worried about the time, Francis seemed to finish first, dropping his empty cup into a small trash bin. At times, the bin would be full of papers—designs which were not suitable in the eyes of Francis to be precise. However, the bin was almost empty, and maybe it was uncharacteristic of it, but Francis didn't pay it any mind. Instead, he was slightly curious about Arthur's tea. Its scent had caught his interest; it was sweet and somewhat bitter.

"It is a thing that is said when people drink it says how they are," the Frenchman mused. His eyes fell upon the liquid in the chipped porcelain cup as the technician lowered it onto a saucer carefully. The chestnut-colored liquid seemed to spin in a lopsided motion, as if it was attempting to spill, yet it wasn't going anywhere.

Another sip was taken of the tea, and the cup was lowered once again. Arthur hummed in contemplation and Francis assumed that he was trying to find a way to describe the tea.

There was no explanation and instead a collected yet pointed reply, "I have no idea of what you're trying to say. Try again."

Francis considered rephrasing his statement but decided that he wasn't too sure if he could so, "I can have a small bit?" He pointed at the tea as to tell the Brit that he was requesting to taste his tea.

"There are many ways that you could have said that correctly, and that way hardly makes sense," Arthur began as he handed over his cup and saucer, "I think if you tried again, you would be able to grasp the language better."

The suggestion was ignored as Francis sipped out of Arthur's cup. The flavor was as he expected; bitter and somewhat dull. There was a slight sweet taste to it, probably some sort of sweetener, and the tea seemed like it was steeped for too long. A frown teased at his lips as he fought off the bitter taste. The sweetener, or whatever it was, saved the tea from being a terror. He held the cup and saucer out for Arthur to take it back. As it was received, Arthur asked if he liked it.

"It is a odd taste," Francis answered, "I am not too sure of what the taste is to say about you."

As soon as Arthur translated his words into something a bit more proper, Francis rolled his eyes and hopped into his chair. The two went on about their favorite teas, though Francis found himself only listing one or two as Arthur couldn't decide between nine or ten teas. Eventually, the topic changed to the dinner party, something that Francis would try to avoid bringing up since Arthur always seemed nervous about it.

"I suppose we should finalize our plans?" Arthur asked as he idly fiddled with his cup, "I will come over to your apartment at five and we will walk from there?"

Francis nodded and tapped his fingers on his desk, "My friend's apartment, yes, and you will have the outfit I make— made? Outfit I made when you come," he ceased his tapping and smiled when Arthur glanced up at his fingers with concern, "I am only excited, not a worry."

"Well, I suppose I'm excited to see the outfit," as if he suddenly remembered that it was his mother's birthday, Arthur gasped and snapped his fingers sharply, "I heard that everyone received their outfits the other day…"

The thought of his outfit made Francis groan but he disguised the noise with a laugh, "I have my outfit."

"Well, how is it?" Arthur asked, placing his cup onto his saucer, "I would take a guess that it looks rather fancy? Maybe a top hat…" he went on with listing things that he felt would make an outfit fancy.

Francis stopped him at tailcoats, "It is nice. It is also a casual design but very nice," he tried to avoid mentioning the checkers, but he couldn't help it, "it also has the checker pattern."

This seemed to surprise Arthur, "I imagined checkered fabric as a casual pattern. Can it really be used for fancy clothes?"

"Well…well," Francis tried to explain why the outfit was suitable, mostly to himself, "well that is, Arthur a dinner party does not mean fancy."

Arthur mouthed a soft 'o' and scrunched his eyebrows together, "So…my outfit won't be very fancy?"

"It is and it is not. Fancy…it is, oh what is it—relative," Francis lightly poked all of his fingers together and folded them out from each other, "I think the outfit that is for you is fancy in a way."

The technician scrunched his eyebrows together again; he remembered all of the work Francis had done for the party from organizing his computer. "I had seen a lot of the designs that you drew for the dinner party and I think those were fancy," he started, "is it as fancy as those?"

"Both of our outfits are not as fancy as all my designs," Francis began to grit his teeth but stopped to sigh and smile in defeat, "It is fine though; it is not a party of who has a good outfit."

Maybe Arthur didn't quite understand, but the technician shrugged and accepted the thought of his outfit not being some grand tuxedo-cravat hybrid anyway. The fashion industry would always befuddle him.

xxxxxxx

Night 75:

Cold windy nights were often spent indoors with a blanket, a hot beverage, and a heartwarming show to watch. If one was lucky, or secretly unfortunate as some would say, they would have someone to snuggle up with while watching their show and drinking their beverage. Arthur Kirkland wasn't cuddled up with anyone; he wasn't watching a show, drinking a hot beverage, or wrapped up in a blanket. Instead, he was heading over to the address that Francis had given him. The bus had allowed him to stay out of the cold for a while, but when he had to get off, he was hardly prepared for the frost.

Thankfully, the address wasn't far from where he got off the bus, so he walked along briskly. The cold and wind didn't fend off his fatigue, and so by the time he made it to the door of Francis' apartment—Francis' friend's apartment, he was nearly out of breath. When he knocked on the door, it was almost immediately opened for him.

"Arthur," Francis dragged the man inside the apartment, "you are very sweaty! What is this?!" Instead of greeting him correctly, he pushed Arthur toward the bathroom.

The technician stopped at the bathroom's doorway, "What do you want me to do?"

"Take a fast shower! Here is the towel, here is all you need, even the outfit," he grabbed a pile off of a counter as if he had expected Arthur to arrive in such a state, "we have the times but still hurry!"

With that, Arthur went on to take a quick shower. Francis casually stepped into his room and changed into his outfit. By the time he was finished preparing himself, he could hear Arthur fumbling around, finished with his shower. As soon as he heard the bathroom door open, he stepped out as well, hoping that they would both be clothed and ready, like a movie! Nope. Arthur came out with the outfit halfway on, "Can I use some of your supplies here?"

He had finished his sentence, but it seemed like if he had anything else to say then it wouldn't have come out. Arthur stared at Francis and the outfit that he wore. Admittedly, it wasn't extremely fancy, but the way that he presented himself gave off quite a fancy air. The scent that seemed to surround him seemed to be fancy as well; the man wasn't usually one for heavy scents, and though this scent was a bit heavy, it was appropriately heavy.

"You are to use whatever you like," Francis replied, tugging at the other man's outfit, "aghh, put it on all of it! I want to see how it is!"

The tone he used had an edge to it which Arthur felt the need to obey. He wondered if Francis was the type who would push others out the door just to make it to an event at a certain time—exactly on the dot. He used the supplies which he had asked for and fully clothed himself in the outfit that Francis had made for him. At first, he didn't understand why the outfit looked so familiar, then he realized—

"Arthur!" Francis groaned, slamming a fist on the door, "We must go as well! Walking will take a bit!"

"Walking?" Francis turned toward the voice of his roommate. His friend rose from the couch and slowly made his way into the kitchen, "Oh come on now, you ladies probably don't need to wreck your dresses with walking."

The technician hurried out of the bathroom, almost hitting Francis in the face with the door, "I'm ready!"

"I don't want to make the trouble for you," Francis frowned at his friend who only shrugged and laughed, grabbing his keys after. "You are sure?"

Gilbert flashed a thumbs up, "Positive! If I don't then you'll complain about how cold it was while walking over there when you get back."

Eyes were glued on Arthur, who was slightly startled at the sudden attention. Francis grinned and smoothed out Arthur's hair, "Thank you, Gilbert. I did not show you the technician, but he is Arthur."

A harsh laugh came from the roommate, "The one you never stop talking about? Yeah, I figured." Arthur perked up with curiosity at the statement but didn't pursue it after Francis laughed as well. Maybe it was an inside joke?

"Well, Arthur, how do you like the outfit?" Francis asked.

Arthur looked down at his outfit and chuckled a bit, "I like it a lot, but that's to be expected since it-"

"Whoops," Gilbert dangled his keys around, "I still have a schedule you know. I'm not a limo driver with hours to spare here."

And with that, they headed down to Gilbert's car and rode away to the dinner party. On the way there, the conversation seemed to be very relaxed between the three men. Such a comfortable exchange had to end abruptly as Gilbert kicked the men out of his car, leaving them in front of a rather sturdy-looking yet ornate hall. Francis took the lead, beckoning his companion to hurry along, not that they were late, but the excitement he was hoarding inside of himself was beginning to seep out, and he would rather save that energy for when they were actually inside. As they opened the door and made their way through the hallway, they heard the music of the party playing faintly, echoing along with their footsteps.

"The music seems fitting," Arthur hummed.

But Francis shook his head and smiled, "You say it but you have not seen the image that is the dinner party."

The two stopped in front of a door; upon it was a removable plaque which assured them that the room was indeed being used for a dinner party consisting of more than one company. Francis opened the door and waltzed in as if he had been standing by the door and enjoying himself the whole time. Arthur nearly stumbled in, attracting attention with his sudden yelp.

Within the noisy room, they could see flowing dresses and intricate patterns from wall to wall. They hadn't been late yet most of the guests were already situated; some dancing, drinking, or enjoying other activities. The party had hardly begun and everyone was already enjoying themselves. Francis and Arthur snapped their necks to see their boss, Jerry, rocketing out of his seat at the sight of Francis, but he stopped in his tracks after glancing over Arthur. He was unable to stop staring at the man's outfit; non-denim green overalls, pockets, stitched in designs— a fashionable yet functional outfit that he had recognized as the uniform Francis had set on his desk not so long ago. The fashion designer and the technician could see how frustrated the man was, but they could only turn to each other and snicker as the man hesitantly made his way over to the duo before they managed to hide themselves in the crowd of guests in wonderful outfits.

Author's Note: Lol, didn't the requester ask for a romance? It's like this ended with a mischievous dynamic duo instead. F-/10. Wow. At least no one died.