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Hawkes

“You must consider yourself quite the sartorial expert,” Gieves smirks.

“Not everybody has to train their sartors to be evil!” says Hawkes.

“You’ll never win the Savile Tournament with your soft-sew methods!”

“Houndstooth!” says Hawkes. “Attack!”

“Mungo,” snarls Gieves, “destroy them!”

The sartors burst out of their dressforms; Mungo’s grunge attack skids narrowly off Houndstooth’s stain-shield. They whip tape around, taking each other’s measure, and the shears come out.

When the scraps clear, all that remains is a hacked t-shirt and a trucker cap.

“No!” cries Gieves. “He was my last accessory!”

“Back to Hipster Island,” Hawkes sighs.

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