bBy the time he'd sputtered out all his words he felt terribly idiotic; Michelle had obviously only been kidding about and he, like the oaf he was, had taken it entirely wrong. He waited, then, for her to excuse herself and leave him to be stared at and pitied. How many times had Amos mentioned to the lad that he needed to gain a control on his temper before it led him into an unreconcileable situation.

He was, in fact, so upset with himself that he wasn't aware of the slipping and then removing of Michelle's cloak, a glower growing on his face as the stretch of silence grew between them. Why didn't she just end the torture right now and let him sulk alone?

"Alright, then."

Her words didn't instantly make sense to him, he only knew that the moment she spoke and didn't get up, he needed to apologize.

"Merlin's gray beard, Michelle, I'm a right arse and I'm so so-," he began, wiping a hand over his face as he slumped back into his chair. And the words made sense to him. "Wait, you," he paused, an uncertain smile growing on his face, almost faltering a few times as he sat up and then, when the words made full sense to him: "Well, alright then!"

And that was when her dress came into sharp focus, his eyes dropping to take in the effect of material tugged so tightly about her. "Woah!" he commented, unable to help himself. "That's a lovely dress."