//------------------------------//
// Integrity 
// Story: The Tailor and her Recurring Customer: Part 1 
// by Dancewithknives 
//------------------------------//

Present…

Like the times he had done it before, the recurring customer of the Carousel Boutique pulled the changing screen aside and stepped out onto the shop floor. From his strong confident posture to the way the suit wore on him, he should have been a model. He wasn’t too incredibly handsome, but the way that this suit improved his image could put a hoof in the doorway for more male clients. But that was an opportunity that would, unfortunately, not be obtainable.

The bag that he had carried his possessions in was now light and empty. Its contents, which should never have been a concern for Rarity, seemingly disappeared. The bag itself was crushed up and stuffed into a pocket as he walked up to the counter.

The home stretch; it was almost over. 

Like always, he flexed and rolled his shoulders and legs within his new garment, not in a way to try and impress anypony, but to check and test his freedom of movement.

There was some more *THUD THUD THUD*ing  from upstairs. But this time it was becoming louder, as if it were heading towards the staircase.

The guest, standing calmly before the register in his brand new custom tailored suit, used a hoof to open up a piece of the jacket and reveal a sliver of his vest. He dipped his head down and towards the inner wall of his black jacket. When he returned, a tidy, black covered, bound booklet was inside of his mouth. He dropped it onto the counter and held it open with one of his hooves to reveal that it was a checkbook. 

With a pen in magic, he asked, “The usual amount?”

Rarity cleared her throat to answer, but at the same time kept her eyes down. She always kept her eyes on the checkbook, more specifically the illustration of a crown in the top right corner.







Past…
It was that time again, the point in which Rarity dreaded for each and every time she began to work on her customers and wooed and impressed them into a state of ecstasy over her product. The sale.

She was the element of Generosity, but even before that, her customers awe and admiration of her work would be enough payment for her services and product. But sadly, awe and satisfaction did not buy thread or needles, nor did it pay for taxes or bills.

Of course, as well as graduating from design school, she had taken business classes as well as entrepreneurial courses, she knew how to maintain a respectable firm as well as provide affordable wears. She was no dummy, nor did she expect her customers to be ones either. The higher quality of product she made, the more expensive it would be. Common sense. 

Custom fitting clothes were obviously going to cost more than a pre-sized tuxedo taken off the shelves from Stallion’s Warehouse. Her objective was to cover the cost of all parts twice and have a little bit left over for profit.  Her objective was not to blindside and ruin the day for her customer with the price tag of their purchase; especially on the day that one recieves a new suit!

For one of her outfits, one would have to save for a month and sacrifice a few dinners at restaurants. For one of a rival chain business of equal value, a small loan may have to be taken out to afford it.

But Rarity had feared the final moments of this purchase much more than the others.  She simply was not comfortable with this Mr. “Corpse spelled backwards”. Sure he was uncannily calm and calculative, that would put anypony on edge. But with her wrongful intrusion into his personal objects, she may have made her final piece. 

With this pony, having him throw the suit off and stomp on it in a tantrum was the least of her worries.

Rarity then realized she had been daydreaming and blankly staring into his eyes in a similar fashion that he would do.
“Final price, please?”

Rarity thought on that, what should she do? Lowball it? Deflate the price so much that he would leave? No! That breathed unprofessionalism. Call it pride, but she would stand by her self-image of being a successful businessmare. She had numerous payment options for those who could not pay her fee upfront. Perhaps the stallion in front of her was wearing her epitaph, but by some miracle, she hoped he was reasonable.

Rarity cleared her throat. “With the fine fabrics and textures that were chosen for all three pieces of your new ensemble, as well as the custom additions you have requested, your total comes to…” she began to calculate her price, almost regretting even starting the conversation. “ 900 bits, even.” Then she quickly snapped, “But-We-Have-many-Different- Payment-Options- If- That- is- Not- doable!”

The stallion kept his gaze down. Rarity’s heart stopped beating.  It was her worst fear, she had upset him. Her breathing slowed as she unwittingly waited for what happened next.

There was a rip, and a little piece of paper was set before the young dressmaker.

She looked down, and a small paper rectangle looked face up at her. It took her a moment to realize it, but it was a check, written out to the Carousel Boutique in the amount of 900 bits.

A little dumbstruck, Rarity reflexively pulled the lever on her register and a bell chimed, the word “SALE” popped up and the drawer opened.

She let the check fall into the drawer, and her guest backed away.

“A pleasure,” he stated calmly, and just like a warm summer’s day, he was gone out the door. The sign on the glass door was still turned to “closed”.

Rarity turned and slumped down against the backside of the counter until she was sitting firmly on the ground.
It was over. She didn’t know what to think.  Emotions of anxiety were chased with relief, but supplemented by confusion. Who was this pony? Why was she so afraid of him? What was he doing here?  Was there something that he wanted besides the new suit?

There was so much confusion. so many questions that she had taken for granted with other ponies but almost left her incomplete. Many questions, too many theories, and not enough answers.

She had an idea and she looked up. Using magic, she felt around the open drawer of the cash register and found its newest addition.

Maybe there would be some sort of answer on the check, a name, an account number, a signature, a title, or a business, anything to put her mind at ease.

It did not.

In the top right corner of the paper was a symbol, a crown inside of a small square. She had seen it before, it was a government issued check. Once upon a time The Princess herself called upon her to solve an emergency, and even though she tried to refuse payment, the Princess ensured that she be compensated for her time and patience. She had been paid with a check like this one before, leaving her to believe that this was not just a government check, but instead some sort of special promise used personally by the Royal Family or by higher ranking government officials.
Rarity let it fall out of her hooves and onto the ground. As she expected, the correct amount was left on its line for the purchase, the date was correct, and as she expected, it had been pre-signed with a broad government name that could mean a number of things.

From all the dark occupations that Rarity Belle had been imagining this client to be, she may have finally found an answer.
He was a con artist. Somehow, he had extorted a government official, swindled a noble, or stolen from a representative get his thieving hooves on that checkbook. The owner had probably reported it as stolen, and the notes were useless. Rarity had been robbed and intimidated by an actor.

Well… at least his suit was nice. Maybe he will use it to impress his next victim.

She grabbed the check and set it on the counter. She was done for the day. She had a bad feeling in her stomach and was not in the mood to talk about it. In the morning she would take it to the bank and show it to a teller and act like she did not already assume it was stolen, as to not be questioned as to why she had not gone in earlier. There would be an investigation, everypony would know about what had transpired. She would have the pity of the whole town… but worst of all, she would lose her confidence. 

Being ripped off was like losing one’s virginity, nothing was ever the same again.

Just imagine her face in the morning when the check cleared…