❧ Locked to Louis ❧ stillwhining & angelo

"You must tell me everything, then." Armand insisted, running his palm again against the habit hung up by the door of the hotel room; the justaucorps, the jacket, and breeches, he repeated to himself inwardly, memorizing their names as well as their feel; and marveling in a quiet, detached way at the downfall of velvets to silks. They mainly ran in the industry of costumes at his ill-fated theatre, and dressing again for public society was vaguely exciting, in the way that a shut-in might be excited to read of the outside world-- hungry for it, but still viewing it as slightly a fiction, however real.

"Why the heels are shorter now, and why the toes are squarer. Why men carry canes, and why black ribbons are in preference to red. I would hear it all, Louis."