"My, my, did anything else happen yesterday? I heard from His Majesty that your presentation was quite the success… but why are you so stiff, darling prince?" Drizelous asked with a theatrical pout, as he delicately helped Florian slide into the upper half of his new outfit, his long fingers fluttering like a seamstress possessed by divine inspiration.
Drizelous, evidently too excited to let things play out naturally, had jumped ahead before Heinz and Florian could exchange a single word.
He was like a whirlwind of silks, pins, and sparkles, unable to wait another second for Florian to wear the ensemble he had poured his soul into the night before.
Apparently, the designer had stayed up until dawn sewing as compensation for the outfit that had been torn to shreds during yesterday's chaos.
"Hah. I do wish they'd caught the maniac who did it," Drizelous muttered with a sudden drop in tone—quieter, darker.
