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The sheer relief. "I'm not doubting your character, I'm just being slightly, one might say a bit flirtily, realistic about the process. I will be directly back!"

Erin leaves the comic and races out of the cabin. She comes back much less Dressed; gone is the armor, her sword belt, and most of her knives; only her cargo pants, a T-shirt, and her blindfold remains. She sets down a bundle of Various White Cloths pillaged with Captain Bonnet's help along with three apples, which she stacks stop each other on the bed.

"Okay, here we go." Erin taps the stack of apples a few times and then jumps at the bed -

- and lands on it only three apples high. She touches the top of her head and brings her hand over to the top of the apple stack to compare heights before letting out a miniature whoop of victory.

What.

Okay, he had some warning, but what.

"Should I ask about the apples?" Watson sighs. "All right. I would like to repeat the fact that I am not a tailor. I doubt any of my professors in medical school could have foreseen my turning my skills to this, but some would have been scandalised enough by my doing my own mending on occasion."

He doesn't exactly have a measuring tape on hand, but he does have a length of thread in a drawer and some paper he can mark lengths down on. "Hold your arms out, please."

Erin obligingly holds her arms out. "Honestly Doctor I'm not in a position to criticize after coming to bother you like this. As for the apples, a Smurf is three apples high and I wanted to get it right. This'll be my first proper Halloween party in a dog's age."

She vibrates a little. Even her unimpeachable personal space seems...a bit more at ease, honestly.

"Everyone does seem very excited for it. I suppose we've had rather a chaotic month, so perhaps we need some relaxation."

He measures, and takes note, and measures again, gently. She is so tiny! What is happening! "I never did much for Halloween, myself, but fancy dress does seem like it might be fun."

"Wish we could do a proper Trick Or Treat but alas, this is SS Hellscape, gotta do the lame adult Halloween activities." The minuscule sigh Erin lets out Does Things to her chest that her armor would normally hide by virtue of being thirty pounds of ice. "Will you be taking photos of the event? I can't see 'em but it'd be fun to have memories around I think."

He laughs a little.

"I think I might, yes. People might appreciate them." And hey, most of the parties don't end in death, so it's fine. "I'll bring my camera, at least, and see who I can coax into modelling for me."

Watson frowns at his notes, because he's not quite sure what he needs, but length seems sensible, and arm holes, and leg holes, and what else is there for a dress that simple? "Honestly, I will try my best, but you do realise I've never made anything much more complicated than a buttonhole? Sewing people back together is not exactly like making a dress."

"Doctor, please, you're my hero in a dark hour as it is. I say, as if I don't have like two backup costume plans and I'm not just recklessly attached to this one for no good reason." Erin gives him an Exaggerated Finger Of Scolding and a grin before taking a moment to downstack the apples. At her size that little tower falling over onto her might be a bit more than her dignity can stand. "Whether or not you match up to master tailors isn't the question! You've got a real skill here that I absolutely don't and I'm very grateful."

"Well, I suppose I did need a new challenge to step up from handkerchiefs and replaced buttons. Why not a tiny dress? I suppose it's... well, it's more or less a handkerchief with some convenient holes in it, and a fancy hem. Surely I can manage that."

He laughs, mostly at himself.

"That's the spirit! And if you're really so self-conscious about it you've got one of the few crafts the ship is friendly to. There's no kitchens or uncooked food or spare wood or fuckin', hair dye EVIDENTLY," Erin huffs and stamps her tiny foot, "but there is an infinite supply of both cloth and thread! Every shirt or pair of jeans you unpick is free raw material!"

"Cloth is also much simpler to work with than skin," Watson points out, as politely as you can say something like that. "Though if you want spare wood, I'm sure the leg of a chair would serve the purpose well enough. But give me an afternoon to work on this and I should have something for you, one way or another."

"Yes! Excellent! When it's all said and done if the outfit survives the party I shall put it up in my cabin so people can look at it. If I ever let anyone in there as like. My guest. At any point in time. But! Growth mindset, Doctor, growth mindset." Erin bounces on the balls of her feet, springing up and down on the bed in near-girlish excitement. "Anything else I can do to help at this time?"

"Oh, goodness. No, I think I have all the measurements I need."

Watson looks at her, briefly reflecting on how his life came to the point that this is only slightly surprising. He used to be so normal. Normal, and he thought he had an above-average level of excitement in his life.

"You are making it sound like I should sign the thing, for when you put it on display."

"Only if you want your name on it, Doctor. You wouldn't be the first artist aboard to request no credit for their work." Erin gives him a cheeky grin. "...God I am so much more playful when I'm tiny aren't I. This must be surreal after our last talk."

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