if you're taking requests; gallya and 38 please :)
“That dress is all wrong,” Illya said sullenly sitting back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest.
Beside him, Napoleon flicked a look at him from the corner of his eye then tilted his head as he looked back at their partner who was flitting about the room acting like a blushing bride to be, along with the daughter of a particularly important mark. They were at some sort of wedding expo, something from personal nightmares, but he was enduring.
“I think she looks quite pretty.”
“That dress is far too… fluffy,” Illya said. “She would not want to wear anything that would get in her way such as this.”
“But, in theory, it is her wedding day,” Napoleon said. “Surely her focus isn’t going to be how fast she can run.”
“It doesn’t matter, she is far too practical and she prefers comfort.” There was a moment of silence from the man beside him as they watched Gaby huff a stray bit of hair out of her face, managing to plaster a smile back on just as the mark ‘s attention returned to her. “Besides she is lost in all that tulle. She needs to be framed in silk – something in an a-line. And not white either, cream, with a slit on the side for a peek of leg. It is a crime to hide her legs.”
“Wow,” Napoleon said, biting back on a wide grin. “You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?”
Illya went very still for a moment and then shifted in his seat before mumbling something about these things being obvious to anyone who knew fashion.
Across the room, Gaby shoves at her full skirt with annoyance.