He’s been through her wardrobe enough times, whenever she’ll let him play dressup with his pretty little Annie-doll, that he’s got a good idea of which dress he means. It’s beautiful (like everything on her is transformed into loveliness, right now he can’t picture her looking less than radiant in anything) but she deserves so much more.

He grins hard and pulls away from her, already knowing what he can do. He has the fabric, the sewing machine and her as his muse - he’ll be able to whip up a train for her dress before the bight grows too old.

“Go put the dress on, love.” Oh, but to draw away from her is hard. He must, for she deserves his gifts. “And meet me in my suite. You’ll be the bride you deserve to be.”