Rude stood outside the door of his usual drycleaner, staring at the "out of town for the week" sign dangling almost jauntily from the handle, and wondered why it was that nature - and fate - seemed to have it in for him today.

His suit - his perfectly tailored, blue, expensive Wutainese silk suit - was spattered with mud. Of course, since said mud had come from the streets of Wall Market, it undoubtedly included materials far less savory than a bit of moist dirt. Faced with this unexpected lack of drycleaner, he found himself briefly considering hunting down the idiot whose offending wheels - and the puddle they'd splashed through - had put the mud there. And doing something violently permanent to him.

"I still think this is some kind of new Tsengian method of punishing you for breaking dress code with the color on that one. Pavlovian conditioning, like." There was far too much grin in the tone of those words. Of course, he could always take it out on his red-headed partner. Strangely enough, the bleak thought didn't bring him any real satisfaction. He really liked this suit.