"Wrought," she concedes, with a shrug for whether or not she's done much sitting - no, naturally not. It isn't a comfortable dress to wear; the gown beneath the exterior is tightly corseted, and the exquisitely designed fire-hazard attaches in several interlocking places to the waist of said corset, bearing its weight down on her hips and leaving bruises to find when she finally takes the entire mess of it off.

It isn't as difficult to take off as it is complicated to put on, which is a small mercy. It certainly makes the prospect of undressing for bed probably the most appealing thing she's looking forward to all night.

"Everything's a tactic tonight, Bellamy."