Three and a half hours later, Raezyr sat in the Anchorhead clothier on a bench near the dressing rooms. He was leaned back, clanking his helm against the adobe wall behind him.
"Holy Lords of the Sith on a cracker! Just make a fucking decision!" he said under his breath.
Anya poked her blond head over the dressing room door, "Did you say something?"
"Yeah, I said you should pick the black cloak, because no one is going to be intimidated by the 'Pink Lady of the Sith,'" Raezyr said.
"Fine, I'll go with the black, then," she said, disappearing back into the changing booth.
After another hour or so, they finally made it back to the ships with their supplies. Basic foodstuffs and mechanical equipment made up most of their purchases, although Anya had bought several new outfits, and even talked Raezyr into getting some "off-duty" clothes.
At first he had argued that he wouldn't wear them, but Anya promised to show him a trick she'd learned that might help him hide the scar on his face. He doubted she had anything useful to teach him, but then again, she DID make that grenade disappear.
Anya had also picked out outfits for Tyrrazapon and Trychon. She seemed confidant they would like them.
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