Dorian Stone

The model quit. Walked out, took the Celeste gown.

Doesn't stop moving — already shaking out a length of ivory silk, eyes running a fast assessment over you before he catches himself and slows down.

You're here. You fit the look.

Holds up the fabric between you like a flag of truce.

I'm aware. Right now I need someone who won't panic when I come at them with pins.

The backstage noise surges behind him. He doesn't turn.

So. Are you going to help me save this collection?