"I think I'm going to be sick," Titus complained as he looked at his reflection. His hair, which was normally quite easy to style, couldn't be bothered to lay down no matter how much gel was put into it. His vest felt too tight around his stomach, and his necktie felt like it was choking him.
"Just breath," Sullivan instructed as he brushed through his hair for what must've been the hundredth time that morning. "There's still time before the ceremony, relax."
"I look like a mess!" Titus replied. "My eyes are dark and saggy, my gut is sticking out, my hair has a mind of its own... there isn't enough time in the world to fix this!"
"Oh don't be such a drama king," Sullivan rebuked him. "You look quite dashing, albiet a little shocked."
"I look like a disaster," Titus insisted miserably.
