"You're the one who called it a big ask," Monet reminds Pansy, eyebrows raised pettishly. "Why don't you tell me?"

But she smiles -- she's found what she was idly looking for -- and turns, carefully extending a hand. The palm is flat, cradling an antique hat pin tipped with a yellow-orange gemstone. "It's citrine. A quartz," Monet explains. "It would match your yellow rose, if you wanted to add it to your boutonniere."

The suggestion is casual, and the practiced ease of it carries over. "It doesn't sound like him, no," she agrees, sighing resignedly. "But yes, you might be right. I can't think it helped his confidence to see those ... comparisons laid out so plainly. Still. He took it well otherwise, I think, considering Cecilia's his date anyway."