Ugh.

[He twists back around and rubs at his eyes again, then leans back against Polnareff, tucks his head under his chin. It's a minor sulk, for him, but still a sulk. Which doesn't mean he's going to stop talking, of course. God forbid.]

I'm not wearing it for you. I'm wearing it for me, because I like it. It makes me feel comfortable and good and pretty, and it's my clothing in my room, so why should I be dressing for someone else?

It's not for a girl, anyway. It's mine. It was made for me and I paid for it. You might as well look in my closet while you're here, I have as many dresses as I have suits, I just don't wear them as often.

And anyway, it's soft on the inside. I don't wear anything that isn't. Life's too short to be ugly or uncomfortable.