She fussed with her hair in the mirror, trying very hard to get it sit well. Obstinately, it refused, misbehaving in every way possible. Coming up behind her, he started buttoning the back of her dress.
"I can do that."
He ignored her protest, continuing up the back, "I've never understood why they make these things so difficult."
"It's all a part of the alluring mystery."
"The mystery?"
"Of whatever it is about clothes that makes men so fascinated."
"We've yet to figure out exactly what you keep underneath all that cloth."
"Which is why it's crucial to make them look impossible to put on."
"Exactly."
Reaching around her, he pulled taut the tie at her waist. Upset by his quick movement, she fell back, trying to keep her balance.
"Sorry," he muttered as her back collided with his chest. Stepped forward again, her hands flurried to her hair, embarrassed.
"It's fine."
More carefully, he tied the bow, making sure it was stiff enough to look nice but not so tight that it hurt. The dress was a good color on her, an emerald green that offset the purple tint to her skin. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, against a small mark left behind from the previous day.
"How perfectly juvenile," she sighed, pinning her hair back.
"I like it."
"That's unsurprising."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"It can mean whatever you want it to mean."
"So harsh, Darling."
She bit her tongue, holding her response, "You're the one who forced me to become harsh in order to survive." Instead she just hummed a noncommittal note, smiling with the corner of her mouth.
He smoothed his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, smiling as if admiring an act of his creation. She supposed he was, in a way. Who could say how things would be had he never intervened? Any one of the infinite possibilities floated in the air now, lost forever to her.