The two of them strolled through the lively shopping district, the warm buzz of chatter and the smell of street food drifting around them. Lanterns hung above the narrow street, swaying gently with the breeze, casting soft glows on the cobblestone path.
Jeff walked with his hands tucked into his pockets, a casual slouch in his shoulders, though his eyes kept darting to Rover as if to check whether she was still amused by all this. Rover, on the other hand, looked almost childlike—her wide gaze flicking from stall to stall, lips parting slightly every time she spotted something new.
When they finally stopped in front of a clothing store, Jeff exhaled, a little nervous.
"Guess this is it," he muttered, pushing the glass door open.
Inside, the shop was lined with racks upon racks of shirts, jackets, trousers—bright and muted colors stacked side by side. Rover stepped in and spun slowly in place, her expression openly awed.
"Wow… there are so many clothes," she said, almost under her breath.
Jeff gave a half-smile, scratching the back of his neck. Of course she'd say that. She's been stuck wearing the same thing since she woke up in this world. Well, I'm on the same boat as well. That's why it's completely practical to buy new pairs of clothing otherwise I'll be stuck wearing this fucking office attire.
Jeff chuckled. "An astute observation Miss Rover " Then, after a small pause, he looked at her. "Hey… Rover, will you help rate the clothes I try on? But—be honest with me, okay?"
Her lips curved into the faintest smirk. "You got it. Leave it to me."
A few minutes later, Jeff disappeared behind the curtain of the fitting room with a pile of clothes in his arms. Rover stood just outside, hands tucked behind her back, rocking on her heels. When Jeff finally stepped out, she tilted her head—then burst out laughing.
"What do you think?" Jeff asked, trying to sound casual though the outfit was clearly… questionable.
"I'm gonna be completely honest with you," Rover said between small fits of laughter. "You look like shit."
Jeff's jaw dropped. "Hey, come on, it can't be that bad—" He turned to the mirror, and his reflection made him wince. "…Okay, maybe it's a little bad."
"Pick again," Rover deadpanned, crossing her arms.
He disappeared inside. Came out with another outfit.
"Again."
Back in. Out. Another.
"Again."
By the fourth try, Jeff groaned, tugging at his collar. "Come on, Rover—we've done this so many times already. What a drag."
Rover sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, though her lips twitched as if she was holding back a laugh. "Well, if the outfits you picked weren't halfway tragic, we'd be done by now. You clearly lack any sense of fashion."
She wasn't wrong. Most of Jeff's life had been spent in uniforms: the endless monotony of school blazers when he was still studying, the crisp white nursing scrubs when working in the hospital, stiff army officer uniforms, and now the dull office attire he'd worn into this world when he was working on let's just say a Communication Agency. His wardrobe screamed function, not flair.
"Alright, alright," he raised his hands in surrender, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "You win. I'll admit it—I've got no clue what looks good."
Rover stepped past him toward the racks, brushing her fingers over fabrics with an almost thoughtful expression. Her movements were precise, eyes narrowing slightly as she evaluated each piece. Jeff watched her quietly, struck by how serious she looked over something as simple as clothes.
Finally, she plucked a shirt from the rack and tossed it at him. "Here. Try this one. And don't argue."
After trying the outfit Jeff stepped out of the fitting room, tugging lightly at the collar of his new grey shirt, black pants, and black jacket as if testing how it sat against his skin. The fabric hugged his frame just right, casual yet sharp. His hair caught the light in a way that only made him look more put-together than usual. He gave a half-turn, like he was on an invisible runway, before shoving his hands into his pockets with a cool ease that almost felt unfair.
Rover, who had been idly scrolling through a rack of accessories, froze the moment her eyes landed on him. Her breath hitched—just for a second—and she had to remind herself to blink. Heat crept up her neck as she tried to look unaffected. Tried.
"…That's about a hundred times better than the disasters you tried on earlier," Rover said, her voice sharper than she meant it to be, mostly to cover how flustered she felt.
Jeff turned toward the mirror, eyebrows raising as he caught his reflection. "Wow. What the… this looks exactly like the Male Rover's outfit," he muttered under his breath, tilting his head. Then, with a low whistle and a grin tugging at his lips, he added, "Damn. It actually looks good on me though."
Rover rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward despite herself.
He caught her reflection beside him and chuckled softly. "I completely admit defeat, Rover. From now on, I defer to you whenever I plan to buy clothes." His grin softened into something warmer—gentler—and it hit her harder than she expected.
Rover quickly crossed her arms, pretending to focus on the racks. "…Not bad, right?" she said, the words a little too casual for how red her ears had gone.
"Totally," Jeff replied without missing a beat. "In fact—let me grab three of the same outfit. That should cover me."
Before she could respond, he was already at the counter, sliding shell credits across as if he'd made the most important purchase of his life. When the shopkeeper handed him the bag, he glanced one last time at his reflection. This time Rover stood beside him in the mirror, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.
He smirked. "Looks like we've got matching outfits."
Rover blinked, startled. She hadn't thought of that. The realization made her heart trip over itself, and she turned her head away a little too quickly. "…Totally a coincidence," she muttered, though her tone wasn't convincing in the slightest.
Jeff's chuckle was low, amused. He shifted toward her and extended his right hand, his expression suddenly sincere, almost gentlemanly. "Then, to show my undying gratitude to the lady, I'll buy you a gift. Will you—" he dipped his head slightly, eyes glinting with playful reverence—"grant this unworthy one the privilege of escorting you, milady?"
Rover stared at his outstretched hand, caught off guard. She wasn't used to this kind of thing—this kind of… sincerity wrapped in teasing even. Slowly, hesitantly, she placed her hand in his. His palm was warm, his grip steady but gentle, and something in her chest tightened at the contact.
"…Be grateful," she said softly, though her lips curved into the faintest smirk, "I don't grant this privilege to just anyone."
Jeff laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made her stomach flutter. "Then I'm honored," he said, giving her hand the slightest squeeze before straightening. "To the souvenir shop we go."
And just like that, he led her forward—fingers intertwined, like it was the most natural thing in the world.