(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

Jim, circa 1992, is only half-dressed when he opens the door this evening. Not that there's any skin on show; it's just that he's apparently at some stage in a suit fitting, and the material covering his top half is held together by pins, covered in tailor's chalk marks, and also very expensive.

He glances around and then comes on in. The trousers of the suit are mostly done by the look of them, so he leaves them on. The jacket is draped over a stool, revealing a tailored shirt of the finest silk (shut up, it's the 90s). Bar produces a note as he sits down, and for once it's not met with a scowl.

'I think I can manage without a bib, thanks. Just a coffee.'

If he spills it on his new threads, he'll just buy more. Business is growing, it seems, and that makes for a....well, not happy, but certainly a satisfied young Moriarty.