Spy School: British Invasion

Chapter 7: Shopping

A/N  Thank you for the 530 views! We are more than halfway to 1k, and I really want to get there. I have a big project due soon, so the next chapter will be short. Anyway, enjoy chapter 7!

A fancy clothing store

London, England

April 1

1430 hours

    Alexander sized me up first. He looked at the color of eyes, and muttered, "What goes with forest green?"

    He finally selected a black coat and dress pants, with a dark grey vest that came in a set. He said it had to come together because it would be considered "casual" if it was not in a set. I also got a crisp white button-down shirt, and after a careful selection, a tie that matched my eyes, and a slightly lighter shade of green handkerchief. Once he was sure I looked "fashionable," he moved onto Mike, then Murray, Cyrus, and finally, himself.

    It was particularly hard to find something for Murray. He was still in shape, but was starting to revert back to his old self. He also looked so sloppy, it was hard for him to look presentable, period.

    Alexander also got us shoes, which he claimed were "essential" for the look.

    It had been about an hour when we were finally done, and we walked to the center of the store, were Erica, Catherine, and Zoe were waiting. Erica has the dress I'd seen her eyeing earlier, Zoe has a cream-colored Givenchy dress, and Catherine has a lavender colored pantsuit.

    We must have been a strange sight to the cashier. Seven people in casual clothes walking up the cash register, holding extremely expensive clothes we wanted to buy.

    The cashier, whose name was 'Charles,' widened his eyes slightly at the sight. He carefully put each suit and dress in a garment bag. I knew it was going to be expensive, but the total still shocked me. It was 5,938 pounds sterling, which equals 7,593.01 U.S.D.

    I drew a sharp breath, but Catherine was all smiles. She casually handed over her credit card, turned to us.

    "MI6 is going to reimburse me, in three. . . two. . . one. . ."

    As she said one, her phone pinged with a massage from MI6.

"There we are!" she said excitedly.  "I have been reimbursed."

We took the clothes, and took the bus back to the hotel. It was a classic red, double decker bus. But what they didn't tell you is that it was like any other bus; it was dirty. The seats had unidentified substances on them, and dirty tissues on the floor.

I don't know why I thought it would be clean, but I guess it was a stereotype; England = Proper, and Proper = Clean. Well, I guess not. I leaned my head on Zoe's shoulder, tiered from the day's events. I had been up since one in the morning, and I needed to bring my A-game tonight for the restaurant.  I didn't fall asleep, but went into a kind of haze in between sleep and being awake.

I caught sight of Erica who was sitting on the other side of the aisle. She was looking at us out of the corner of her eye, not looking thrilled, to say the least. She caught me looking, held my gaze for a second, looking the tiniest bit jealous, and looked away. This was kind of unsettling, but I quickly shook the feeling off. We arrived at the hotel a mere few seconds later, and Erica as the first one off. We filled off after her, and Murray whispered to me,

"What's wrong with her?"

"I dunno," I said, feeling slightly guilty.

"Well, she seemed angry," Murray said, walking past me into the hotel.