"Are... are you sure you heard him correctly?" Florian asked, his voice tight with disbelief as Cashew carefully adjusted the lapel of his outfit.
For the past few days, Florian had taken to wearing nothing but satin and silk, garments that the original Florian had apparently deemed appropriate for casual appearances. Most of them were so sheer they left little to the imagination, and Florian had swiftly relegated them to the role of pajamas. They were comfortable, at least, but utterly unsuited for anything beyond the privacy of his room.
Now, though, the summons from Heinz had left him scrambling to dress appropriately. Spending time with the king—Heinz, of all people—wasn't something he'd prepared for. Not today. Not ever.
