Last week's b7friday challenge was a random song one. 300 words set in season 1.
Clothes Make the Man
Avon was pleased that the Liberator cabins had their own bathrooms because that made it unlikely that anyone would see him in a less than dignified state, unless he chose of course. Fresh from the shower, he opened his wardrobe to select his clothes for the day.
Once, Avon had dressed to fit in with his peers; it had never paid to stand out in the Federation. Now, he could develop his own style and he rather thought he had found it.
First, silk undergarments, comfortable and pleasant to wear. Then a black knitted silk turtleneck sweater and black leather trousers. Leather had a satisfying heft and strength that wouldn't stop a blaster but gave a certain feeling of invulnerability. It was interesting that Vila had chosen leather too, but preferred the softness of suede. Did he want to underline his harmlessness, or was he going for cuddly? If so, it did not appear to have worked on Jenna or Cally.
Next the tunic. Ah, yes. Avon surveyed his reflection. It projected the right image: "I am dangerous, and stylish with it. Keep your distance." He ran his hands over the studs that lined the front seams. Oddly, only Vila had got that.
"Couldn't find one of those spiky collars guard dogs wear?"
Avon smiled in remembrance, and sat down to put his boots on. They were leather too, with steel toes and tough raised soles that gave him three extra centimetres, and went to his knees. No wet feet for him, unlike the idiot Vila who seemed to think thieves' sneakers suited all occasions. Avon drew the side buckles tight. A pity boots didn't come in... what was that squat animal with all the teeth? Ah, yes, crocodile. Smiling like one, he stood and strode out, armoured and ready.
My song was Crocodile Shoes by Jimmy Nail. The lyrics are singularly inappropriate for our reticent heroes so I changed the title shoes to boots.