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Herryk leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He hung his head, wincing when he heard that door open. Honestly he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to handle seeing her in that little thing. He'd either lock them in the dressing room or evacuate the maul.

When he dared open his eyes, though, what stood before him was a cotton-candy confection that had him half out of his seat before he forced himself to sit down. He knew what was underneath that dress, so it didn't really matter that she'd covered it up. However, as striking as she looked, Herryk wasn't convinced about Freya wearing such a dress in public.

"Herryk.. is not so sure," he grumbled. "It is too short for Freya to be wearing in public."

Herryk cleared his throat at least eight times as Freya made her way back into the dressing room. This was .. harder than he thought it would be. If she kept wearing those barely-there dresses, Herryk wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to just ... sit there.

"Herryk doesn't mind it," he whispered lustfully after her, eyes locked on her backside. He felt like such a lech, but he couldn't help it.

Herryk watched the pink dress land on the floor. Herryk watched that pink scrap of lace fall to the floor. He let out a mournful sigh.

When Freya stepped out of the dressing room moment later, Herryk brightened considerably. "Herryk likes this one." He rose to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest, lifting one hand so that he could make a twirling motion with an index finger. It signified that she should turn around so he could see the full picture.

And dat a**. Never not dat a**.

"Yes, yes. Herryk likes this one."

Herryk had never thought about that particular color being on that he preferred, but he could understand why Freya thought as much. Compared to her own choices, Herryk's picks had been rather monotone. Even boring. It didn't matter, though, because he liked the more conventional dresses that he'd picked out for his ladybird to wear. The dresses that Freya chose didn't leave much to the imagination, and there was something to be said for allowing one's imagination run wild.

When she came out of the room once more, a rather large smile lit up Herryk's face. The top was fluid with a deep V, and Herryk could appreciate the somewhat modest neckline. It wasn't as short as the pink dress she'd picked out, and yet it was shorter than the ones he'd chosen. All in all, Herryk was very pleased.

"Herryk very much likes this dress, Freya." He nodded once, letting his gaze drift from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

Herryk laughed at Freya's enthusiasm, shaking his head as he seated himself once more on the bench. Everything would have carried on perfectly if Freya hadn't started to sing -- and even if her voice was lifted in song for a mere four secondds, Herryk's thoughts immediately turned towards the fact that another boil had kissed his beloved Freya.

That thought made him incredibly distressed. Not angry, like he had been before, but more ... sad. Sad that another boil had tasted the sweetness of Freya's lips. The melancholy that Freya's song invoked was obvious on Herryk's face. He looked plain miserable.

"Herryk is fine," he lied quietly.

Herryk tried his very best to smile when Freya burst out of the dressing room. When his eyes landed on all of that bare skin, when he heard that sadness in her voice, Herryk's good intentions crumpled. His own despair brought on by her voice mixed with the emotions that the sadness invoked was a bit of a reckless combination for the draugr. Driven by a bit of anger, a bit of sadness and a whole bunch of possessiveness, Herryk was in dire need of something to make him feel better.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead an instant before he picked her up in his arms. Settling her comfortably in his arms, one of her legs on either side of his hips, Herryk marched directly into the dressing room. The door closed with a soft noise behind him.

Herryk laughed, moving his head from side to side so that their noses rubbed together. Unlatching the door behind him, the draugr slipped silently out of the dressing room. Freya was right, but Herryk could not be blamed. It was entirely the fault of the dress.

"Herryk does not mind buying this one," he chuckled as he moved back to the bench, closing the door behind him.

"It might be Herryk's favorite."

Yuck.

"No, no. Not this dress. This dress is ... no, no." He shook his head.

"What about the pretty white dress that Herryk chose? Freya should try that one on. Freya should also burn this dress she is wearing now. Herryk is sorry for picking that one out."