The bedroom was a war zone.
Talia had three different jackets laid out on the bed and was glaring at them like she expected one to confess. Aegis was at the mirror trying to get a cufflink into a sleeve that did not want it. The cufflink kept slipping out of her hand. The sleeve kept eating it.
[Cufflinks are the enemy. I have decided this.]
"The blue one," Talia said, picking up a jacket and putting it down. "No. The grey. No, the blue. Cassandra will read into it either way."
"Either way?"
"Blue is too soft. Grey is too neutral. Black is mourning, which would be insulting, and the brown is, frankly, peasant-coded."
Aegis got the cufflink in. She lost it again immediately when her sleeve shifted.
Evelyn knocked once and walked in carrying a pressed jacket folded over her arm. She was as composed as she'd been at breakfast. Her hair was exactly where it had been at breakfast. Her expression was exactly what it always was, which was nothing.
