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[Though sightless in his own stead, Illarion's omen clearly bestows what she sees to him. It is enough, evidently, that Illarion is able to perceive his appearance.

And enough still that he is flustered once more, green blush just hinting on his face. If one did not know him, they'd think him ill.]

You are ever kind in your words, my friend. And me, ever gracious.

I cannot think of an occasion for them, but... I suppose that I am glad that I was gifted the suit. Would you share with me what she gave you as well?

[It really is a charming blush even if it's not a color one ever expects on a human, Illarion decides. What one might be able to do with that leaf-green undertone given the right cosmetics is an interesting potential challenge...]

Ever-gracious and very handsome, [he's not letting Bigby off lightly, oh no,] and if I have learned anything about our Patrons in last these many months, the occasion will soon present itself for you.

[Then he clears his throat, looking momentarily taken aback himself. Not that he hasn't been expecting or intending to honor the reciprocal request--why else bring his gift along with him in that bag in the first place--but there many moments one could wholly prepare for and still be shocked by when they arrive in the whole weight of their immanence. This is one of those, since much as she had with her gift to Bigby, Madam Generosity has handed Illarion back a piece of his history.

It's just a lot of history to have land on one all at once.]

Gladly. And gladly wear it for you, too, though it is not proper to my station any longer. Here, [he beckons Bigby over and leans down to pick up the bag he brought. The first thing out of it is an embroidered coat far more elaborate than anything the shrike's ever worn in Trench.]

[It's difficult to think that he could be perceived as attractive on any level, but he also is not put out by the compliments, feeling humbled. Still he fears ruining the clothes with his worse half, but this has been a kind reminder. If nothing else, he is fond of the clothing.

And fortunately, Illarion shares his own.

As gently as ever, Bigby runs his thumb over the coat with an admiration, his eyes gazing over the elegant design.]

It is beautiful.

Station or not, it would only be fair for you to dress yourself in this for me to see, yes? For I, as well, am no longer a man of the court, yet here I am anyway.

Indulge me?

[A smile that's positively shy tugs up one corner of his mouth.]

It is. She has remade it in every detail.

[Not surprising from one angle, really--Pthumerians, after all--but a minor shock from another, that anything in the Waking World knew him that well.

He nods at Bigby's line of logic, looking maybe just a little sheepish--a little pleased, too!--to have his own wiles turned back on him.]

Fairly argued, dear friend. I do owe you as much. [He shrugs out of his heavy, practical Hunter's coat, laying it aside to put on Madam Generosity's gift. It fits him perfectly, for all he knows he'd lost weight and muscle since setting aside the coat it's a copy of.

That last thought's cause for a fleeting frown as he secures the last clasp and straightens the tall collar around his throat.]

Well. [He lifts his chin and turns his head in Bigby's direction.] Does it still suit?

[For a moment, Bigby is quiet, if only for the fact that he does truly find both the coat and Illarion himself mesmerizing. The combination of the two leaves him quiet, contemplative, then warmly he speaks:]

Incredibly so.

[Gentle as ever in his touch, he takes Illarion's hand, sweetly pecking the back of it.]

I know you only as you are now, but for that I could not regret a single moment. Especially now. You are a wonder to see.

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HEEHEEHOOHOOHEE

now who's the menace!! (also lowkey mad i can't find an in-focus pic of this coat)

its me i am the one

how the turn tables....

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