Rex stepped out of the changing room, now back in his everyday outfit—charcoal-grey chinos, a soft cream shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a slim dark cardigan. A far cry from the throne-worthy suit he'd been wearing moments ago, but still, our bro was effortlessly sharp.
Seraphina gave him a once-over and finally exhaled like she could finally breathe again.
"Finally. Now I won't have to file an emotional damage report."
Rex blinked. "You act like I committed a fashion crime."
"You were about to walk out in a bespoke suit like it was gym wear," she deadpanned. "That's basically fashion homicide."
He scratched the back of his head. "I mean, it was already on me. Thought It would be okay to just keep waking."
She gave him a flat stare. "Okay, sit down. We need to talk."
Rex sat like a student getting called out for forgetting homework.
