Crispin’s being an idiot. He sneaks into Julianne’s closet and throws all her clothes around. I put them back before she notices.
She’s pretty, and she has good taste. That gets her a pass.
Sometimes I try on her clothes, as I’m rehanging them, but it never really feels right. For one thing, I have to shove them on over this stupid floral thing. I wish I’d been dressing myself before the fire. Mom’s sweet, but vogue she ain’t.
Maybe Julianne can give me some advice, when she figures out we’re here. Which shouldn’t be long, the way Crispin’s going.