>the door to your workshop is closed. Still. 
    >not a good sign
    >sigh
    >you've really done it this time
    Hey, I ordered you a harness.
    >that was how it started
    No more getting toted around in the range bag, eh?
    >she'd nodded sharply, obviously pleased despite her fragile, haughty reserve
    >"Danke, Namenlos."
    >she didn't say "it's about time" but that was the subtext
    >when the package arrived, she'd loomed over the kitchen table while you opened it, fidgeting with the collar of her greatcoat
    >she was the very picture of stitched-together tatters of dignity
    >it was going to be good to get her this, to complete the work you'd been doing
    >new mag spring
    >authentic vintage brass clips (now glinting in her thick blond braid)
    >copious elbow grease to go with all the CLP
    >"This..." her voice cracked
    >uh-oh
    >"Is Chinesisch!"
    It's period...?
    >the justification felt lame even to you
    >you'd mostly liked the design: minimalist rather than the strappy German harness with pockets for everything
    >"Serbian ammunition! Spare parts from Arizona!"
    >she puzzled out the place, unfamiliar with it
    >"And now a harness from China! What of me is left?"
    Mauser made that style of harness too, you know.
    >"Then why didn't you get one?"
    >she didn't have to storm out. She just tucked her chin into her coat
    >then she was laying inside her stock on the table next to the package
    >that was several days ago
>as much as it bothered you, you didn't have time for a finicky geist right then
>she (and the harness) went to the workshop bench 
>your job and other obligations meant she was going to have to wait
>now you can hear the knock of her police boots on the floor of the workshop
>ordinarily you'd just go in; it's your house
>a little circumspection is in order this time
I can always sell it.
>"Maybe you should." Her voice is hard like a bullet
It wasn't easy to find. Leather doesn't hold up like you. I can try to find a period German one but there aren't many in good shape. And repros are, well...
>Chinese
>no answer
Honestly I was looking forward to carrying you around. You know how great all the looks we get at the range are.
>still nothing. Maybe that's an improvement
And with this style we can use the stock without completely undoing the harness.
>indistinct grumbling through the door
>time to press your case
You're always going to be you. You've got a distinction, a pedigree nobody can match. But what is it worth if you can't be used?
>silence
I'm coming in. If we can't use it, we'll figure something else out.
>you turn the knob and swing open the door
>slatted light from the window, drifting dust caught in the beams
>smells of metal, gun oil, wood, and now leather
>she's huddled next to the bench
>her threadbare greatcoat is exchanged for a qipao in rich mahogany and gold silk
>brass fasteners shine at the seams
>"Am I...?"
>the long, trailing hem, decorated with chrysanthemums, doesn't quite hide her boots
>her face is lined from a century of hard use both official and civilian, narrow escapes from Treaty rework, replaced parts, and passage from hand to hand across two continents 
Still you.
>she gathers herself and stands, seeming to drift over across the room
>she drapes herself around your shoulder to let you take up her solid weight
>"Then take me somewhere."