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The girl remembered how he used to have a specific taste in fashion (if he had one, but she can't remember a more accurate word to replace it). White shirt, red tie, green outer sweater. And he just had to refuse to pick other color schemes no matter how much she insisted. Maybe that's why she was hellbent on rehearsing the play with him, to make him wear something that is not a white shirt - red tie - green outer sweater combination. Like Tudor, and white clown shoes. As long as it wasn't his usual choice of clothes, she would be satisfied.
She could feel her sanity, and attention getting thinnier each day (month? Year? Time flows differently in this manor.) Every “essences” was calling for her, every person in this manor was getting closer for remembering the reality, and she was not ready for the collapse of the Manor. She did get the collapse of her own, and it was alright, she was getting numb to it. She wished, however, to be able to songwrite again, but every time she sat by the piano, she would freeze up.
Today was like any other “day”, pieces of her mind and soul ran ammock to different corners of the Manor, trying to appease the lost residents in here. When suddenly, all the pieces focused on one single surprise: a white shirt, a red tie, a green outer sweater… no, vest. Why did she think of a sweater?…
Nonetheless, it has been a long time since she last felt her mind in one place and at peace. All thanks to being hypnotized by such baffling - yet familiar - clothing combination.
“What is… this?” Miss Nightingale gestured at him.
“My favorite vest,” the detective felt defensive, “my late wife said she liked it.”
“But she never said it suited you or anything.”
“Nope,” Orpheus laughed it off. For the first time in a while, he felt relieved to be able to smile thinking about her. On the other hand, he wished he could understand the Lady's strange behaviour. Was she feeling nostalgic?…
No matter. Time flows different in the manor, enough for them to know each other.