He's not entirely sure what this place is- part Aladdin's cave, part pawnbroker, but presented in a way he's never experienced before. The place is dark, lit strangely to highlight wares that any tailor in London would be shamed to sell.
Then again, the little skirt she holds up has got a certain appeal.
"Is it a belt?" He asks, eyebrow raising as he fights to hold back a grin. He knows it isn't, because her usual clothes are shorter than his time period would consider decent. But it makes her happy, and comfortable, even though she seems to have forgone clothes almost entirely since they arrived here. Lucky old Connor.
"They have... are those dresses?" He says, nodding at the wall, and then grabbing one down. It's black, and red, and once more there's no small amount of lace. The style is vaguely familiar to him, but again all of the dresses are far shorter than he's actually used to. But for that, they've got the same appeal as the skirt: almost nothing below the thigh is left to the imagination.
no subject
Then again, the little skirt she holds up has got a certain appeal.
"Is it a belt?" He asks, eyebrow raising as he fights to hold back a grin. He knows it isn't, because her usual clothes are shorter than his time period would consider decent. But it makes her happy, and comfortable, even though she seems to have forgone clothes almost entirely since they arrived here. Lucky old Connor.
"They have... are those dresses?" He says, nodding at the wall, and then grabbing one down. It's black, and red, and once more there's no small amount of lace. The style is vaguely familiar to him, but again all of the dresses are far shorter than he's actually used to. But for that, they've got the same appeal as the skirt: almost nothing below the thigh is left to the imagination.