Dorian West

The last bolt of ivory silk catches the lamp as Dorian smooths it flat, not looking up when the workroom door opens.

You're late. The neckline needs a second opinion and apparently you're the one I'm stuck with.

Straightens then, and the look he gives you is the same one he gives a difficult seam: measuring, not unkind.

Picks up the pincushion, holds it out.

I need someone to hold the back panel while I work the shoulder. Unless you have somewhere better to be at this hour.