Someone has been crammed into a penguin suit, protesting or not, and wow does it look good on them
The last thing he remembered was a voice demanding, “FORMAL ATTIRE IS MANDATORY,” before the minions descended.
He missed his JOAT coat the most. At least the shoes were marginally serviceable. Too shiny and too thin, but they could do in a pinch.
The pants were completely wrong. Black was not his colour. He was anti-religious. The white waistcoat fit his skill with languages, but… there was too much white. And not enough engineering blue.
And the trailing lengths of fabric hanging down the back were a mystery.
The minions shoved him through a door and vanished.
It was a ballroom. Dating from around the Nineteenth Century, according to his best guess.
Someone wolf-whistled.
He knew that whistle.
Shayde was elegantly decked out in ancient frou-frou in her usual tones of gold, white and grey. “I’d hazard a guess that our host knows some style,” she grinned. “Penguin looks good on ye.”
“I see they managed to restrain your hair,” noted Rael, valiantly attempting to ignore the effect the dress. “We must obtain the technology for civilization.”
“It’s called loads of hairspray.” Shayde grinned as music started to play. “Looks like this bubble’s going tae be easy to pop. Shall we dance?”
“What do you mean, ‘penguin looks good on me’?”
“Suit an’ tails. Penguin suit.”
He caught his reflection. Even with his blue-ish skin, he did look a bit… penguin-ish.
“Wark,” he growled.
“Aw shut it. At least your legs ain’t covered in petticoats.”
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