continued from here, with @mcdecfircn
Though Isabella was normally very good with faces, she couldn’t place this man. She was sure she’d seen him somewhere, but she couldn’t think where. This wasn’t worrisome -- it didn’t feel like she knew him well, and had forgotten, as she seemed to be doing a lot lately -- but it was annoying. She frowned at him curiously, taking in his rugged appearance, his grease-covered jeans but she could not, for the life of her, think how she could have known him.
And then he started to talk about making a new suit, and she pictured him in an office suit, with a tie and a sharp jacket. Though he looked dirty and unkempt now, she could imagine that he would scrub up well. Perhaps he was a famous fashion designer? She knew that was ridiculous. Why on earth would she recognise a fashion designer on sight? But then he mentioned it being battle ready, and flying, and her entire understanding of the conversation shifted violently.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, blinking in confusion. It was embarrassing to have to admit that she didn’t know what on earth he meant, but she had to. “Look, I’m sure this is going to sound very odd, but I feel like I’ve seen you before. I promise, this is not a line.” She smiled awkwardly. “And I have no idea what you’re talking about. So... I’m a little lost.”