Davrin was unfortunately right. It was why Lucanis had made the comment about needing new measurements in the first place. It would take long enough to get back to his old self - especially with the struggles of dealing with the problem that was Spite - that there was little point in not simply accepting the way things were now and just adjusting again as needs be later on. That was what he was trained to do. Accept. Endure. Move forward when you can.

"Very well, if you're certain," Lucanis said, all proper graciousness. Unlike Davrin he's not just getting shirts but the whole measurements re-done, which means undressing down to smallclothes. Davrin had already seen him sans pants, so that's not much different. His wound is also healing well, no longer needing bandaging, the energy burn marks are down to barely darker shadows against skin and the stitched part holding together nicely. Probably nicer than he would have done for himself, half-assing it because he knew he could. His torso and arms were much the same with a few scars here and there - an expected amount from a year imprisoned by Venatori who had a very personal grudge against the 'the magekiller'. And yes, ribs and spine a little to clear under skin. Something unexpected though - a series of horizontal scars along his back, dozens of them, the kind from repeated hits. A couple were less than a year old, likely from the torture, but the vast majority of them were old. Years old. Maybe even decades. And perhaps more tellingly, while La Rosa was too much of a professional to let too many feelings show his brow furrowed slightly at Lucanis' thinness when the assassin was turned away, arms held out for the tape.

He didn't even blink at the scars on the back. These were a known quantity for him.

Lucanis asked how the clientele in Antiva City was compared to Treviso, and La Rosa obligingly filled the silence.