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Roscoe knocked rapidly on the glossy painted red wood of the front door three times, then stepped back, turning to the side and casting an obligatory sweeping glance around the peaceful neighbourhood with his hands tucked behind his back. He didn’t look round when the door was yanked open mere seconds after he knocked, instead watching the man across the road drag his bins to the end of his drive.
“What took you so long?” Roscoe asked automatically.
Wally just gaped at the man stood on his porch. “Uh. Hi?”
“Hello,” Roscoe agreed, turning his head to look at the gawking Speedster. “Is Piper in?”
“Uhhhh, sure, hang on - Piper-!” Wally shouted up the stairs over his shoulder in dazed bemusement. “You have a -” he glanced at Roscoe skeptically and the Top didn’t miss the way Wally’s voice cracked into a question, “-friend? at the door.”
“I know, Wally,” Piper’s voice rang down the stairs tinged with a chuckle. “Hello! Come on up, I’m in my workshop.”
“‘Workshop’,” Wally muttered under his breath as he gestured Roscoe inside and shut the door behind him. “‘Workshop' - bedroom. Just because he goes and sleeps on the sofa most of the-”
“I can hear you, Wally~” chimed Piper a floor above.
“Good!” Wally called up, shaking his fist at the ceiling. Roscoe shook his head and made his way up the stairs after giving his shoes a thorough wipe on the parts of the mat that didn’t have scorch marks striped across them.
“Piper, which room is yours?” Roscoe asked the first floor at large, frowning at the doors off the open plan living room.
“Next floor up!”
“Not ashamed of you, is he?” Roscoe addressed the ceiling as he made his way up to the next floor, “hiding his ex-felon in the attic.”
“The second floor isn’t the attic, Roscoe,” Hartley’s voice was clearer now. “Wally’s room is opposite mine.” A hand waved at him from around the one open door on the landing. “In here!”
Roscoe gave the door a cursory knock with one knuckle before pushing it fully open as he entered.
“Is the house your or West’s doing?” Roscoe asked of the messy bun of hair knotted at the back of his friend’s head as he hunched himself over his desk again.
“It’s Wally’s house - mother left it to him,” Piper said casually. “I tell you what, the three floors are a blessing - the way he fidgets, I reckon he’d get cabin fever in a box apartment.” He glanced at Roscoe stood with militant rigidity beside his bookshelf. “I have considered seeing if I can get him a giant hamster wheel made,” Piper teased. “So if you ever wanted a new project to keep you busy~” He wiggled his finger in a spinning motion and Roscoe quirked an eyebrow at him.
“I’ll let you know if I have an afternoon free.” Piper sniggered.
“Perfect. Oh, that’ll do,” Piper sighed, sitting up and stretching.
“What are you working on?” Roscoe asked, peering over at the mess of tools, wiring, and gold metal scraps littering Piper’s desk.
“Better radio for Wally’s suit,” Piper said with a groan, cricking his neck, hand reaching round to gingerly touch his lower back. “I need to get James to teach me yoga some time,” he muttered with a wince. “Or get a chair with better back support.”
“Lisa could teach you,” Roscoe offered. “She stretches to keep herself in tip top shape in-between practice. She’s also less likely to guide you into a complex pose and leave you there for half an hour looking stupid and uncomfortable for fun.”
“That’s true,” Piper agreed with a laugh. Roscoe had set about scanning Piper’s collection of books with interest, running his index finger along the cobbled line of their spines jutting out from the shelf. He grimaced, gritting his teeth as Piper’s chair creaked as he span around to face him. Drumming his fingers against the wood of the shelf, Roscoe turned and gave Piper a strained smile as he ground his teeth together, trying to force the feeling of the metal scraping out of them.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes!” Piper said, going to clap his hands together enthusiastically and stopping himself just in time when Roscoe flinched. “Sorry,” he said quickly, pulling his legs up and tucking them underneath himself on his desk chair. Roscoe closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in through his nose as Piper’s chair clunked and creaked again as he moved.
“Would you and the Rogues be interested in attending a charity gala tomorrow evening?” Roscoe’s tapping against the bookshelf stopped as the Rogue stared at his friend.
“You’ve changed your tune if you’re suddenly wanting us to rob charity events, Piper.” Piper groaned.
“‘Attend’ as in 'as guests',” Piper said, rolling his eyes as Roscoe smirked at him. “It’s for the city’s biggest children’s charity, they’ve got a bunch of fantastic new projects that need funding - I thought you and the Rogues might be interested. There’ll be dinner, cocktail bar, silent auction all included in the tickets on the door at the Plaza.”
“And will the city want its costumed criminals at their party?” Roscoe asked dryly.
“Actually I think it’d be a great idea,” Hartley said earnestly. “Think about it - heroes, villains and civilians all united for one cause. If anything you and the Rogues being there will just highlight how good of a cause it is if even the villains can’t not support it.” When Roscoe still look skeptical, Piper tilted his head from side to side. “And if the Rogues are there as guests then it means that the fundraisers know you’re not about to crash it and rob them.”
“There we go,” chuckled Roscoe quietly, but he nodded all the same. “I see your logic. I’d be interested.”
“Fantastic! Could you mention it to the rest of the Rogues? I know they may not want to come, but it’d be worth trying, at least.”
Roscoe gave Piper an incredulous look. “Piper, I just said I was interested. Therefore they’ll all come.”
“How do you figure that?” Piper asked warily. Roscoe smiled at him, and - to his credit - it was only slightly patronising. Piper was his friend, after all.
“I say I’m interested - Lisa will, naturally want to accompany me - the added glamour of socialising at the Plaza serves as a motivational bonus. Len will insist he comes too to do everything in his power to stop me enjoying a wonderful evening with his sister. Mick will go because Len is going, and Mark and the rest will follow like ducklings.” Roscoe folded his arms as he finished his explanation.
"That," Piper said slowly, eyes wide, "is genius."
"I know - it's the Rogues who refuse to believe it when I tell them."
Piper laughed. "Well, if I ever want the Rogues to do anything in the future, I’m coming to you a strategy at the very least.”
“Quite the compliment, coming from the hypnotist,” chuckled Roscoe. “How did you hear about the gala? Wally?”
“Yes - and the Central Symphony Orchestra have invited me to play with them as their guest at the event,” Piper said bashfully, unable to hide his smile. "Really quite the honour."
“My congratulations,” Roscoe nodded. He shifted from foot to foot, looking around Piper’s room. When the Piper said nothing more, Roscoe pressed him. “Is that everything?”
Piper’s bemused expression just made him frown more. “Yes?” Piper ventured with a shrug. “I don’t think there’s anything else you need to know,” he said, scratching his nose. “It’s black tie, so keep it formal. No stripes,” he added, and Roscoe gave him a sullen pout. “That was more meant for James, but…” He gave Roscoe a cheeky smile. He pushed himself out of his desk chair which clanked again. “Lunch? My treat?” he offered cheerily.
“That would be wonderful,” Roscoe smiled as Piper grabbed his wallet and his jacket. Just as Piper was about to leave his room, Roscoe stopped him.
“What are you wearing?”
Piper blinked at him. “Jeans, t-shirt…?” he laughed, confused, looking down at himself. “Man, and I thought my eyesight was starting to get bad.”
“No, I meant tomorrow,” Roscoe said firmly.
“Oh, I have a suit,” Piper shrugged.
“What suit?” Roscoe asked immediately. Before Piper could answer, Roscoe had turned on the spot and yanked open Piper’s wardrobe door. Scanning the rail of clothes until he spotted the one suit Piper owned, Roscoe made a noise of disgust.
“Piper, that suit is older than you are!”
“It’s vintage!”
“Well then I’m not wrong, am I?”
Roscoe shut the wardrobe door with a growl, glaring at the closet like he had the desire to set the entire thing alight. “You are not wearing that - ideally ever again - but definitely not with the Central Symphony Orchestra. You need something better.”
“Roscoe, it’ll be fine, I don’t need a new suit! It’d be a waste of money buying a suit for one night-!”
“No, you’ll buy this suit and throw out the old one because the new one will be worth rewearing places other than in a coffin,” Roscoe said sternly, pointing Piper out of his room. “We can buy a suit while we’re out at lunch.”
“Roscoe, I don’t nee-!”
Roscoe’s jaw tensed. “If you don’t agree to get a new, decent suit I will call Lisa and she’ll-”
Roscoe was suddenly being dragged out the door and down the stairs by a pale-faced Piper. “Shall we?” he asked breathlessly. Roscoe smiled slyly, wiggling his fingers in a wave at Wally before the door shut behind them.
“Oh yes, and we’re also getting you a new desk chair.”
“No, no, living with Wally’s actually been great, although I am this close-” Piper held up his hand, forefinger and thumb a fraction away from touching, “-from soundproofing his bedroom. Turns out Speedsters snoring sounds like a buzzsaw.”
“Surely it cannot be worse than Mick’s. Or Digger’s.”
“Ignorance is bliss, Roscoe, ignorance is bliss,” Piper muttered as they walked through the sliding doors that led into the glassy mall. Or, at least, he did - Piper stood and waited patiently for Roscoe to join him after deliberately waiting to go through the set of revolving doors. When he joined him at his side again, Roscoe was all business.
“I passed Gambi’s on my way to yours - he’s shut. Which means he’s busy with a client. And that you’ll have to settle for second best. Second best.”
Judging by the contempt on Roscoe’s face, he definitely deemed Central’s mall complex as far beneath second best.
“Shall we get lunch first?” Piper suggested. “You must be hungry, and-”
“Suit first, then lunch,” Roscoe instructed, scanning the map of the floor they were on, ticking off shops on his fingers. “Suit first, then lunch,” he repeated to himself. Dismayed, Piper shoved his hands into his jacket pockets while Roscoe mapped out their day. While his friend was busy planning his demise, he contented himself with glaring at one of the three Starbucks outlets he could spot on this floor alone.
“Right,” Roscoe said, straightening up and holding up for fingers. “There are four potential outlets that will have what we want. And the first one is right here!” Roscoe said cheerfully, steering Piper into the store, gripping his elbow.
Despite Roscoe’s initial enthusiasm, the first store proved no luck: the dummies in the window were smartly dressed in shades of navy and grey, however all the cuts and styles screamed corporate board meeting over classy.
“Nevermind - ah, now this-”Roscoe clapped his hands as they made their way towards the second store. It had a black polished front and the windows gleamed, showing off the sleek suits in the window, “-is already better!”
Piper nodded, looking impressed. “I really don’t need anything this fancy, but... “ He sighed. “I suppose if nothing else you have convinced me that I might have needed a new suit.”
“Hallelujah, he admits defeat!” Roscoe sighed in relief as they entered the designer store. Roscoe immediately moved to consider the suits being modelled on the stands while Piper drifted to look at ties.
“May I help you?”
Roscoe looked around - a woman had appeared at his side. She was dressed all in flattering cuts of black (probably the store’s own apparel, Roscoe reasoned) and her blonde hair styled into an elegant up-do.
“Ah, perfect,” Roscoe said. “I’m looking for a suit for a formal event: black, tailored - ideally with a notch lapel. It is black tie, but I think their guest of honour can afford to have a splash of colour in his outfit.”
“Of course, sir. Looking for any colour in particular?”
“Green,” Roscoe said automatically. “Nothing too bright, although I don’t think it’ll be hard to find what I’m looking for here,” Roscoe said in admiration, looking at the sleek suits displayed all around the store.
“Certainly, sir - you really do have an eye for sophistication,” the clerk flattered, leading him over to a line of dinner jackets.
“Can I get that in writing?” Roscoe asked dryly, thinking of how the Rogues would laugh at her words, but she also just laughed, high and girlish, touching his arm.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not needed,” she giggled, oblivious to the way Roscoe frowned at and shrugged off her hand. “Now - any preference for the accompanying pieces? Vest, cummerbund?”
“Cummberbund, possibly, that’d work well in a dark green,” Roscoe murmured to himself. “Braces...no, that’s more James’ thing.” Roscoe drew his gaze up to watch Piper in the mirror in front of him. The man was admiring the selection of elegant waistcoats on the other side of the store behind him. “Waistcoat, definitely,” Roscoe decided with a smile at Piper’s reflection.
“Perfect choice - we have something that I think will suit you perfectly, sir.”
“Oh, it’s actually-” Roscoe started to say, realising her mistake, when the woman looked in the mirror herself and made a noise of contempt.
“So sorry, sir, just one moment,” she said sweetly, turning on her heel. “Can I help you?” she said loudly across the store. Piper looked up and smiled at her.
“Oh, I’m fine just looking for now, thank you. I’ll let you know if I find something I like.”
“Right,” the woman said quietly as he turned back to perusing the sets of cufflinks. Her lip curled as she gave him a sweeping once over before she wrinkled her nose and turned back to Roscoe with a sweet smile.
“I keep asking the administration here for a doorman but they haven’t got round to it yet,” she said apologetically to Roscoe with a sigh. Roscoe just cocked his head to the side.
“Why would you want one?”
The woman gave him a pointed look, then jerked her head back towards Piper. “You know,” she simpered. “Keep out people we don’t want in here.”
“Why wouldn’t you want him in here?” Roscoe asked, confused. He was starting to get the impression this woman wanted him - was expecting him - to agree with her, but he couldn’t see why. Did she recognise Piper? He hadn’t been active as a Rogue for years now, surely if anything she’d recognise the man stood not two feet from her? And why would she protest about them getting him a suit, of all things? He couldn’t rob a bank with a suit. In a suit, of course, but that was an entirely different scenario.
“Look at him!” the clerk laughed harshly, so Roscoe did, eyes flitting from his own reflection to Piper’s. While he had a clean haircut and shave, Piper’s long hair was still piled into a messy bun on top of his head from where he’d been working, and his jaw was covered in rough, untrimmed stubble. His denim jacket was covered in patches and badges and had been pulled over a t-shirt that had seen better days. His shabby jeans were worn through and fraying at the knees, and his hobnail work boots were far from Roscoe’s Oxfords.
“Some people just shouldn’t be in here,” she said in a whisper. “Don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” Roscoe said slowly, giving her a wide smile. “Yes, I would.” He turned toward Piper. “Piper. We’re leaving.”
“Oh, how come?” Piper asked innocently.
“This shop isn’t good enough,” Roscoe said loudly, striding away from the horrified clerk, only stopping to give her a scathing once over after politely gesturing Piper out of the shop in front of him, “for you.”
“Do you miss high society life?”
The derisive snort from within the changing room answered that in full.
“I never got to experience much of it, but all that I did was me being carted around like a trophy to show off - a sign of my parents’ success in having an heir,” Piper said bitterly. “I didn’t get to talk, I wasn’t to wander off - my parents’ soirees were very ‘no fun allowed’. It was all about refining and cementing their social status. Considering my parents practically wanted me to do tricks to make them look good, it’s amazing they didn’t encourage my flute playing.”
“What’s amazing is that you didn’t crack and become a villain long before you did,” corrected Roscoe.
“Mm, that too. At least with tomorrow evening -” a hand was stuck out from around the curtain, waistcoat in hand “-can you pass me the other waistcoat? This one’s no good.” Roscoe dutifully switched the pieces around and Hartley’s hand disappeared behind the curtain again. “Thank you. At least with tomorrow it’s all actually for a good cause rather than just grooming your social circle. Plus I’ll not only get to talk to the members of the band, I’ll get to play with them!” Piper said excitedly.
“Make sure you play something good to dance to,” Roscoe said through the curtain. “I’m making sure I get my request in first!”
“I’m not sure if orchestra’s take requests, but duly noted~” chimed Piper. The curtain of the changing room was pulled aside and the man stood there beaming. “What do you think?”
Roscoe had stood up out of his chair in the waiting area the second the curtain had moved, reading to inspect the suit. A young clerk was stood awkwardly waiting to attend to them, but his job had been thoroughly claimed by Roscoe as the Top set about checking the suit at every possible angle.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes-” Roscoe said, nodding, a smile growing on his face, “-the green accents on the waistcoat and bow tie- jacket,” he ordered and Piper diligently obeyed, sliding it on and doing it up, smoothing it down.
“Ah, hands out of your pockets,” Roscoe snapped, clicking his fingers. “You’re a musician, not Walker. Now that-” He wiggled his finger, indicating Piper to turn and face himself in the changing room’s mirror, “-is a good suit! Perfect! We’ll take it!” he barked at the assistant who jumped and nodded frightfully.
“Certainly, sir,” he said before hurrying off to get a cover for it.
“Now we can get lunch.”
“Oh, thank goodness.”
“Would you mind if I took a trip to the barber’s while I’m here?” Piper asked, fiddling with the scrunchie wrapped around his bun as Roscoe finished off his pasta. “My hair’s getting to a tangled to a point where the rats are starting to think it’s good nesting material.”
Roscoe snorted. “Charming,” he said affectionately, setting his fork down neatly on his empty plate. “If you want to head to the barber’s, I’ll go to Wiggins while you’re in there.”
“Sure - shall I meet you outside the barber’s once-” He paused. “Actually, I’ll come find you in Wiggins when I’m done,” Piper smiled; the chance Roscoe would leave Wiggins Toy Store without encouragement was definitely in the negative. “I could be a while, I could do with a proper shave, as well,” he muttered, rubbing his chin.
“I could shave you if you want,” offered Roscoe conversationally as they left the restaurant. “I’ve become quite skilled at using a straight-razor.” He polite proposal was met with a dead stare. Roscoe raised an eyebrow. “You don’t trust me?”
Piper’s tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, giving Roscoe a wry smile. Pouting his lips, the Piper whistled a string of notes that Roscoe recognised from a musical they’d watched together one movie night, and he barked out a loud laugh.
“I’m undead, not a demon!” he chuckled, pushing a giggling Piper toward the barber’s.
When Roscoe left Wiggin’s Toys, he almost missed Piper sat perched on a bench outside the store.
“You look so much younger than me without your beard,” Roscoe commented in surprise as he strode back over to his friend. His red hair had been cut so it just rested off his shoulders. He’d forgone the scrunchie (that Roscoe was certain had been made from the same polka dot fabric as his old costume), instead tucking his hair behind his ear on one side and letting the rest hang loose. Instead of Piper’s usual haphazard styling or bed hair, his hair now looked silken.
“That a good thing?” Piper asked curiously, rubbing the backs of his fingers against his freshly soft cheek. Roscoe shrugged, blinking, still thrown by the change.
“It’s a thing.”
“As long as I don’t look about twelve like James does,” chuckled Piper as he stood up.
“Mm, you don’t have his baby cheeks,” Roscoe mused, swirling his forefingers around the sides of his face to mime rosy circles. He looked down at the suit draped over his arm, smoothing a hand over its protective cover proudly. “Need anything else while we’re here?”
“Apart from a stress nap? Don’t think so,” Piper laughed tiredly. “Thanks for your help, Roscoe. I have had a great day.”
“You’re quite welcome, especially considering you didn’t want it,” Roscoe all but beamed at his friend, who snorted and swatted his arm.
“Urgh, actually, I tell you what I could go for right now,” Piper said with a groan. “I really fancy an ice cream.” Roscoe turned his head to look at the pastel pink parlor Piper was staring at longingly a little way down from them.
“We just ate lunch,” Roscoe said incredulously. “You’ve been hanging around Wally too much, his appetite has rubbed off on you.”
“Want one too?”
Roscoe was silent for a minute, considering the idea.
“Yes. But only if we send Len a photo to make him jealous.”
”Done.”
RatKing posted a photo to the group.
TopRogue: ;)
OriginalPrankster: You went to Jackie’s place without me??? :’(
RatKing: Roscoe dragged me shopping, I needed a pick me up!
HotStuff: Alcohol
RatKing: Jackie does say hello, though. She said she hasn’t seen you in a while, she seemed worried
RatKing: Mick it’s two in the afternoon
OriginalPrankster: Everyone misses me when I’m not around O:)
HotStuff: so
Mardonis: So?
Mardonis: And James, I’m fairly certainly she only misses you because you buy one of everything from the freezer when you visit. #ChaChing
TrickedOut: lmao mark used a hashtag
TrickedOut: screenshotted
KillerQueen: Wait you went shopping?? Why wasn’t I invited??
TopRogue: Trust me, my love, it was needed. The situation was dire.
KillerQueen: Then why wasn’t I invited x2??
TopRogue: I’ll take you out tomorrow, sweetums. You will have my undivided attention.
KillerQueen: <333
TrickedOut: v o m
TopRogue: And I should take you out while I’m at it.
TopRogue removed TrickedOut from the group.
OriginalPrankster: Roscoe I love you
StopCollaborateAndListen added Axel Walker to the group.
OriginalPrankster: boooo
OriginalPrankster: Lenny why
Axel: oi
Axel changed his nickname to topdawgyo.
StopCollaborateAndListen: actually
StopCollaborateAndListen removed topdawgyo from the group.
StopCollaborateAndListen: nevermind
OriginalPrankster changed his nickname to Len’sBiggestFan.
Len’sBiggestFan: <33333333333333
StopCollaborateAndListen: aight go get me a beer then
Len’sBiggestFan: yikes I don’t like you THAT much
StopCollaborateAndListen: ill readd him if you dont
Len’sBiggestFan: SIR, YES, SIR!
HotStuff: lol
“Did he brainwash you? Like, serious question, did he brainwash you?”
“No, Wally,” Piper sighed, smiling at his reflection in the mirror as he popped up his shirt collar and draped his bow tie around his neck and began to loop it into a knot. Wally narrowed his eyes, watching his best friend carefully for anything out of the ordinary. Well, anything more out of the ordinary than the man he knew to exist near exclusively in hoodies and old jeans instead wearing a sleek, fitted suit with his hair combed. Wally shook his head in disbelief at the sight before him and took another huge bite of chow mein, noodles dangling from his full mouth.
“I didn’t know you even owned stuff that wasn’t old band merch. Or owned a hairbrush.”
“The suit is new, the comb was not,” Hartley said, rolling his eyes as he neatened the bow around his neck, adjusting the collar.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Wally said in a hurry, wolfing down his mouthful of food, “does this mean you’re finally getting rid of that old horrible suit now you’ve got something decent?”
“Why does everybody hate that suit?” Piper murmured to himself.
“Because it’s horrible. It’d be horrible on anyone, not just you,” Wally stressed. “It’s that bad.”
Piper sighed. “Yes, it means I’m getting rid of that suit,” he reassured Wally.
There was a victorious cheer from Wally. “Finally!” he cried, punching the air with both hands. “You know what, I’d support Mick burning that,” Wally laughed as he opened his next take out box. “Well, okay, whatever Roscoe’s done to you can’t be all bad.”
“When will you learn to trust him?” Piper asked with another little sigh.
“When he starts walking around with a halo around his head,” Wally said around a dumpling. Piper gave Wally a scathing look, both for his mistrust of his friend, and for his table manners.
“You know there’ll be food at this gala dinner, yes, Wally?” Piper asked idly, watching Wally stuff the remainder of his takeout meal into his mouth.
“I ‘ow.”
“And that you’re planning to pick Linda up-” Piper craned his neck to squint at the clock in the kitchen, “-five minutes ago?”
Wally choked on his dumpling and shovelled the remains of his meal down at lightning speed. Piper just managed to brace himself in time before Wally rushed passed him and up the stairs. He was back in the living room moments later, skidding to a halt beside him wearing his tux. Running a hand through his hair, Wally turned to Piper looking nervous.
“How do I look?”
Piper chuckled, giving Wally a fond smile as the young man shifted from foot to foot, hands fidgeting restlessly at his sides. He adjusted Wally’s bow tie so it was no longer lopsided and half-hidden under his collar.
“I know you want to be just like your uncle,” Hartley chided with a smile, “but don’t be too like him, okay?” The Piper tapped his wrist and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Go! And take breath mints or something with you, your breath stinks of take out!” Wally nodded, squeezing Piper’ shoulder before zipping into the kitchen and then rushing out the door. Piper blew a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes as the air settled in the room again.
“And this is why we live in a ponytail when living with Wally,” Piper murmured to himself, tucking his hair back behind his ear. He gave himself one more check in the mirror when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Roscoe Dillon:
Would you like a lift to the gala?
Piper tapped back a quick message.
That’d be great, thank you!
His phone buzzed in his hand not a second later.
Roscoe Dillon:
Perfect.
And again.
Roscoe Dillon:
Because we’re outside.
The sound of a car honking its horn outside the house made Piper grin. Pulling on his dinner jacket, he grabbed his flute case and his keys, quickly locking the door before striding up to the open door of the-
“You all got a limousine?” Piper choked.
“Obviously,” Lisa scoffed.
“Bruce Wayne does it all the time,” Mark pointed out with a drawl as Piper climbed into the free seat and shut the door, setting his flute case on his lap. “We’re only copying the example of our societal betters, Piper.”
Piper rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile at the Rogues, all dressed to the nines, lounging in the car as they pulled out of the driveway.
“You all look fantastic.”
“We know,” smirked Lisa. She was the only Rogue not in a suit - she’d forgone her trademark gold for a scarlet Hepburn dress, a white fur wrap around her shoulders.
Piper nodded at the youth slouched in his seat at the other end of the line of seats he was sat on. “And how did you get him in a suit?”
Axel sneered at Piper and opened his mouth to spit a biting comment down the row at the ex-Rogue when Lisa cut him off. “I had a little chat with him,” she said sweetly, cuddling herself into Roscoe’s side. Piper’s lips twitched in a smug little smile as he caught the way Axel shifted in his seat. He nodded at James sat across from him, pouting out the window, arms and legs crossed so tightly it looked like they might not untangle. “And how did you get him to get in the car with him?”
“I had a little chat with him,” Len growled, flicking the loose end of his bow tie round again and tucking through the loop. He fussed with it for a minute, muttering under his breath before looking up at Mick opposite him. “Alright?” Heatwave gave him a thumbs up. “Good.”
When they arrived, Piper managed to catch Roscoe before they went inside.
“For you,” he smiled, handing him a small navy box. Roscoe looked from his friend to the box, then back at Piper before opening it. His face lit up in an instant.
“Where did you find these?” he asked in delight.
“I made them this afternoon,” Piper smiled. “I thought you might like them. Consider it a ‘thank you’ for all your help yesterday.” He gave Roscoe a coy smile. “And for defending me to the rude woman in the designer store.”
Ah. He’d forgotten that Hartley would have heard all of his exchange with the store clerk, but he wasn’t about to admit that.
“It was nothing,” Roscoe said breezily, plucking the polished pewter cufflinks, their faces shaped like spinning tops, out of their box and fixing them onto his shirt cuffs. “I wasn’t about to let her insult you.”
“Yeah, man, that’s our job,” James cut in, patting Piper on the back. The man just smirked at him.
“You’re just jealous we got ice cream without you~”
“C’mon, it was Jackie’s, how could I not be?!”
The fundraiser was a glorious success. The charity raised millions, a hefty chunk of which came from a group of very generous anonymous donors. The Rogues had an excellent time partying with the city’s heros, and Roscoe got his dance with Lisa.
And three days after his and Roscoe’s excursion to the mall, a very confused Piper was delivered a new desk chair.