“I know the story,” Lydia chuckles, revealing that she is pretty aware of how he picked the nickname for her as she’d had the same thought when she saw the tiny serpent detail on her mask.

She continues to smirk coyly as she notes the look on his face, the way his gaze roams over her but doesn’t make her feel dirty as he isn’t leering. He’s appreciating and constructing, tearing the dress apart in his mind only to put it back together in the way he wants to see it. It sounds intriguing and suddenly she wishes she could see it the way he does. Or, better yet, see it in person.

“Thank you, I thought it looked good but you’ve made me feel ten times better about it,” she lifts her chin before waving a hand. “Don’t worry, I like hearing you talk. Makes me want to hear about what else you’d put me in.”