Lira did not speak right away after they left the group of women behind, her steps steady along the stone road as the market shops grew denser on both sides.
Ray walked beside her in silence, the wrist marker still cool against his skin, the system window faded to the edge of his vision while the earlier confrontation settled into the background noise of the street.
After a short stretch of quiet Lira glanced at him once, her expression more thoughtful than before.
"You did not have to say anything," she said, voice low enough that the passing market crowd would not catch it, "those women hold minor influence in the outer district, they could have made the rest of the errand difficult."
Ray kept his eyes on the road ahead.
"They were already making it difficult, talking over you like you were not standing there."
Lira's mouth tightened for a moment, then she gave a small nod and returned her attention to the shops.
"Lady Seris prefers a specific tailor for private stock clothing, the shop is just ahead, we will finish quickly and return before the afternoon crowd thickens."
They stopped in front of a clean storefront with a simple wooden sign and dark curtains over the windows, the kind of place that did not advertise loudly but clearly served clients with money.
Lira stepped inside first and spoke quietly to the woman behind the counter, showing a small sealed token that carried the Black Orchid mark.
The tailor's eyes moved over Ray once, noting the collar and the current black staff clothes, then she nodded and gestured toward a side fitting room.
"Standard private booking set, measured and ready within the hour," she said, already pulling out a measuring cord and a selection of darker, better-cut garments.
Ray stood still while the measurements were taken, the numbers coming out clean and consistent under the tailor's practiced hands.
Lira waited near the front of the shop, occasionally glancing toward the street as if expecting the earlier group of women to appear again, but the road outside remained ordinary market traffic.
When the fitting was done the tailor set aside a complete set of clothes, fitted trousers, a dark shirt of better fabric than the staff uniform, a light outer coat, and sturdy boots that matched the standard Seris had ordered.
"Change here," the tailor said, handing the first set over, "the rest will be wrapped for transport."
Ray stepped into the small fitting room, closed the curtain, and exchanged the tight black staff clothes for the new ones.
The fabric sat better across his shoulders and chest, the cut clean without being flashy, the kind of clothing that marked him as private stock rather than open-floor staff.
When he stepped back out Lira looked him over once, gave a short approving nod, and paid with the coin from the purse.
They left the shop with the remaining clothes wrapped in a neat bundle, the afternoon light warmer now as they started back along the main market road.
"We will take the wider street on the return," Lira said, adjusting the bundle under one arm, "less chance of another interruption."
Ray walked beside her, the new clothes already feeling more natural than the old staff set, the collar still locked at his neck while the city continued around them, merchants calling prices, carriages rolling past, and the occasional well-dressed woman casting a longer look at the pair before moving on.
The earlier group of rich women was nowhere in sight, but the way a few passersby glanced at Lira's uniform and then at Ray suggested word of the confrontation might already be traveling faster than they were walking.
Lira kept her pace even and her expression professional, yet the small glance she gave him once more carried a quiet acknowledgment that the errand had not gone exactly as planned.
"Lady Seris will want a full report when we return," she said, "including what was said on the street."
Ray met her eyes briefly.
"Then report it as it happened."
Lira's lips curved in the smallest hint of something that was not quite a smile, then she faced forward again and led the way through the market crowd, the bundle of new clothes secure under her arm and the path back toward the Black Orchid waiting ahead.