The crack of palm on flesh startled Arran, though he tried not to show it. That probably meant they weren't shopkeeper and customer as he had thought - maybe mother-daughter?<br/><br/>As for the matron's question, he really wanted to just get something and go, the idea of measurement reminded him why he was even doing this. The point of these clothes was to placate Jachym. And he wouldn't be pleased or impressed by a loose sack. The master mage would be expecting somethat fit. Something that looked... girly.<br/><br/>Smothering a sigh by brushing his unruly, brown hair back, Arran replied. "Uh, yes. I'll need to be measured. Yes." He unfastened the brown cloak Jachym had given him, letting it fall in a heap on the floor, before starting to worry are the buckles that kept the two sides of the leather breastplate snug to his torso.<br/><br/>The tiny buckles were no match for his slight feminine fingers - something Arran was sure wouldn't have been the case ahd be been a man. Actually, wow, he thought as he was halfway through lifting the breastplate off, this was the first time he'd found something of this new body unambiguously useful. Good. Arran blinked a couple of times and dropped the armour on his cloak.<br/><br/>He bent over at the waist to work off the new boots - setting them down more carefully - before straighting up and lifting off the undershirt. He blushed for a moment at the thought of being revealed in front of the young girl - Rachel - going so far as to try smooth out his hair a bit. Of course it was silly. The girl would be used to seeing other women undressed like this. And, frankly, the cloth Arran had wrapped around his breasts for the long walk wasn't exactly erotic. Oh, and there was the second bandage around his stomach - covering where the skeleton had clawed him. Very classy.<br/><br/>Cheeks still red, Arran untied the draw string on his trousers and pushed them down and kicking them onto the same pile. He found himself folding his arms in front himself unconsciously - one arm held across his strapped bosum, and the other hanging lower to obscure some of his unfancy and boyish underwear. (Well, it was boy's underwear of course). If Rachel had thought the armour was not pretty, well, there were not frills under it.<br/><br/>Suddenly realising where his pose, and his flushed cheeks, were coming from, Arran forced his arms down by his side, lifted his chin and stared forward - faking confidence. He was an adventuer damnit. They don't have to feel embarrassed about underthings... do they?