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[vecna]

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[vecna]

[Do you really want to leave this place dressed like this!!!

But Henry complies, moving to gather up his wet clothes and draw close enough to hand them to her, even if he has to reach over a standee or two.]

What for?

[velluminous]

[ consider that only one of them is dressed at all right now. taking his stupid sopping shirt and beginning to Prestidigitate it dry. or at least less wet. ]

This for.

[vecna]

[...Oh.]

You couldn't have done that before I changed into this?

[An addendum:]

That's a joke, by the way.

[velluminous]

[ components verbal, so she answers in slow murmurs between castings ] I was not watching you dress and undress, Mister Creel.

[vecna]

You didn’t think I would just stand around in wet clothes after I suggested we needed a change of them, did you?

[velluminous]

I thought you seemed little bit above polka-dot bottoms. [ a beat ] Ah, no. Sea shells. Cute.

[vecna]

[He scoffs.]

The other options were sandcastles and dolphins. I wasn’t exactly spoiled for choice.

[velluminous]

[ quietly, while she works, ] Not one of those who embraces whimsy as part of his career, then?

[vecna]

My uniform was all white.

[If they are referring to his previous """career""".]

No bright prints or loud colors for me, or anyone else.

[velluminous]

Hm. How terrifically boring. [ she has most of a sleeve dry now ] Clothing is self-expression.

[vecna]

[There wasn’t a lot of self-expression allotted to him — like, ever.]

And what does “pink seashells” express?

[velluminous]

Lack of better choice, sounds like.

[ hands him his shirt. it's still kind of damp. ]

[vecna]

[Well, it’s better than nothing. He thumbs it to test its dampness, seems to consider it Fine, and begins to slip it on. Now he can wear a button-down shirt and swim trunks.]

Believe it or not, I’ve never really had an eye for fashion.

[BELIEVE IT OR NOT, he says, dressed like his.]

[velluminous]

[ you've activated her. she watches him dress, or at. least she's looking at him while he pulls the shirt on, but there's a sense she's sort of elsewhere in her head. ]

You would suit waistcoat.

[vecna]

[Buttoning up, one at a time—]

A waistcoat? I’ve never had the pleasure.

[He really hasn’t.]

What color? And don't say turquoise.

[velluminous]

What colours do you like? I would say perhaps emerald green.

[ she's wearing emerald green. ]

[vecna]

[Uh-huh, wondering if that’s just her own preference to ignore the fact that— he isn’t sure what colors he likes. What does something like that matter to him, anymore?]

Blue, to match my eyes.

[One of his eyes.]

[velluminous]

[ her dark lips twitch in half a smile ]

Haah. Your eye is turquoise.

[vecna]

[Wow. He scoffs a light, half-laugh.]

No. Turquoise is blue and green.

[velluminous]

Ahhh, he emerges. [ she may have a very specific idea of exactly what kind of work he did with the children in the lab. ] In that case--blue waistcoast... pair with brown button-down, these trousers...

[ she conjures a skeletal Mage Hand, which drifts up and artfully coils a lock of his drying hair. ]

Looking like gentleman in no time.

[vecna]

[He has a hard time imagining it, himself. The clothes he requested from the suggestion box were dark colored if plain; certainly with the desire to look presentable, but gentlemanly?

A glance askew to that skeletal, magical hand.]

And the hair?

[Since that, too, is being taken into consideration, apparently.]

[velluminous]

Hair is already good.

[vecna]

What happened to, and I quote, my “stupid coiffed head”?

[velluminous]

[ you didn't have to quote.

glances away, tensing her mouth ]

I did not mean it.

[vecna]

I’m teasing.

[Even if it’s second nature to dredge up discomfort, like breathing.]

I have thicker skin than you think.

[Now that his ensemble is very mismatched, he dips down to pick up his soggy trousers, holding them out.]

Do these get the magic treatment, too, or are you really going to suffer these swim trunks?