[He nods and hangs up. A minute later he's at her room, knocking, the dress wrapped in plain brown paper. It's white, strewn with appliquéd pink hawthorns, a little less structured than dresses on Scadrial, as that seems to be the trend here, and better for flexible movement, but it's still suitable for elegant dancing, still has neatly concealed pockets for weapons and small ones for vials sewn under the larger flowers. He hovers in the doorway, holds the package out.]
=> spam