But the real question was—what the hell was he supposed to wear?
It was a formal party, obviously. Which meant—black tie, crisp suit, clean lines, polished shoes. The whole damn package.
Rex slowly got up and walked to his wardrobe with a vague sense of hope.
Then opened it.
Paused.
Closed it.
Then opened it again just to make sure it wasn't a hallucination.
Yeah… no. Still nothing.
Not a single decent piece of formal wear in sight.
T-shirts? Hoodies? A denim jacket he may or may not have stolen from Kaelan?
Sure.
But suits?
Not even the ghost of one.
His gaze wandered toward the far side of the closet—where the old Rex's formal wear had been tucked away like relics from a forgotten era.
Out of curiosity (and mild desperation), he pulled one out.
Yeah, no.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
The design? Questionable at best.
The size? A disaster.
