Unfortunatly someone had seen the spill that Arran just took.<br/><br/>"You alright kid?" A baritone voice called from a house behind him and to the right. Standing outside of his shop, shaking a roll of cloth, was the tailor, Florent Greensburn. A younger man, just barely past twenty, he was fairly soft spoken. He was generally a nice person, but could get a bit snobby about clothing. Though that might just come from being a tailor.<br/><br/>"Those breeches are far to large for you and cut very wrong, come over here and I'll take them in." He offered at around the time Arran reached the door.