"Modern style," he murmured back to her with the clear edge to his voice despite the small smile that showed on his lips. His brow lifted curiously to her cryptic idea, but he somehow felt rather trusting of what style that might entail. Lucien clicked the safety belt loose and jerked back as he always did when the thing flew over the pulley system it was strung into. He remembered thinking how deadly the things were despite their use for protection should the car come to a halt and strangle the person seated, but he'd learned quickly that they were strung to stop short of that when such a thing should happen, holding someone against possible expulsion. It was rather ingenious.

Arm and arm, Luke's gaze swung up and down the busy city blocks at all the storefronts. Coffee shops, book stores, electronics, endless clothing options, restaurants, and even more coffee shops. It was rather overwhelming to take it all in, but he focused on Carmela instead to bring himself back to calm. Once they stopped in front of one of the many clothiers, his eyes swept over the mannequins on display. He took in the elegant and casual options, feeling more akin to the elegant one simply because of all the layering. He was rather used to that at least, but would still be absurd in this age for everyday.

"Right," he breathed out, preparing himself and reaching for the ornate wooden door. "After you, Miss Carmela."  

Lucien eyed all the different colors and fabrics, textures and styles. He hummed at her suggestion, looking down to himself and the usual dark colors he wore. Of course, that was the era he had come from. Bright colors weren't exactly worn often unless it was for a costume or grand ball. Seeing all the different styles throughout the store was making his head spin. Looking to Carmela, he noticed her bright hues wandering his frame and felt the need to stand up a little straighter as she did so.

Then, she was off. He stood rather awkwardly as she flitted about the store, completely focused on the task she had given herself. 

"Can I help you, sir?"

The aurazin turned to gaze at the young man who wore a crisp white buttoned down shirt, navy blue tailored pants cuffed at the ankles, and shining black shoes. A measuring tape lay over his neck like a dead snake. His hands gripped it and lifted around his head and over his dark hair which was slicked back and didn't look like it would move should it be touched. Luke stuttered for a moment before answering as his eyes went to Carmela who was now on her way back to him. Thankfully. "Um.. No. Thank you, sir."

She urged him towards the fitting room and pulled open the door to find it oddly opulent within. A cushioned ottoman and four mirrors at varying angles because apparently one wasn't enough. Luke took the options she'd selected and hung them on the hooks inside the room wondering what in the world strutting his stuff meant. There would definitely be no strutting on his part. He gave her a tight lipped smile, watching over her shoulder as the gentleman who worked at the shop seemed to still want to impose his expertise on them. Lucien quickly closed the door and reached for whatever was on the nearest hook.

It seemed Miss Carmela was being rather kind for the first option. He slipped out of the heavy centuries old coat and shirt, stripping himself, literally, of life from the past. His fingertips drifted over the simple dark shirt and pants, feeling how different the materials were compared to what he was used to having draped over his body like a second skin. Something Lucien realized he probably used as armor and a way to not forget his time on earth as a human.

Stepping from the room after donning the clothing, he blinked a few times and fidgeted, finally finding enough nerve to look at Carmela who remained in the fitting room area that was just as grand and made up of cushioned loveseats and low tables, a tray of glasses and a pitcher of water with lemons on the side. Luke smoothed his hands down his sides and cleared his throat. "Well.. how do I look?" Thankfully the employee had run off to help another patron or he didn't think he'd be able to handle his busying about trying to assist. He grimaced, assuming he likely looked exactly how he was feeling. "I feel ridiculous."

Lucien's jaw was hurting from how much he was clenching it. He'd only realized it once she complimented him and the tension visibly drifted out of his shoulders. His jaw unlatched and he swallowed, looking down a moment before a soft hint of a smile appeared on his mouth. "Now you're just teasing," he quietly replied and shifted into a wider stance to actually take the time to give the new ensemble a chance. It was much lighter, he had to admit. Confining, but definitely much lighter. Perhaps he'd been too quick to judge after all. He could still wear his coat over this though, right?

He allowed Carmela to turn him around again and lead them back towards the room he'd changed in. Sighing, his eyes went over the different garments, trying to figure out which to choose next if only to appease her, when her question halted him further. Lucien turned to face her then. He could see the pain in her eyes. A mother's pain that longed to see her child. He despised not being able to take that sorrow from her. Aurazin couldn't manipulate the feelings of their own, but he would take that sorrow away from Carmela if he could. 

Her words bled through him. The familiar guilt that had latched onto him and always sat heavy in his chest seemed to pulse with the reminder that he was still failing them all. Lucien sighed softly through his nose before replying, his gaze finding hers while he stepped closer to her. "Yes," he replied with a nod. "I encourage the others to find comfort in some way while we are here on Earth, but it seems I'm not taking my own advice."

His head lowered, strands of his long hair slipping forward. "I fear adapting is somehow admitting defeat. Admitting that I cannot find a way to bring us home. Admitting I'll never see my wife again." Lucien forced his eyes back to hers. "Or that you'll never see your child again." He leaned against the wall of the fitting room and dropped his head back as if he could see the veil through the roof of the store. "I failed her in life. I let her die. Being given a purpose again in death had somehow eased that guilt if only slightly. Leading people after death to ensure they weren't alone or destroyed by the voidlings was purpose that I desperately needed. Then that was taken away. She was taken away."

Lucien turned his head towards her with a sad smile. "It's why I stay locked up in my office all day. Go to the Ailward manor for answers. Why I wander the lodge hallways at night like a spirit because I can't sleep. I don't want to fail our kind. I've already failed plenty on Earth the first time. I don't want it to happen again at the expense of you all."