his long-tailed liripipe comes unwrapped from around his shoulders and the soft wool falls across Iain’s face. Iain wrinkles his nose and snorts in amusement as Harry flails. ‘Oh, fuck this,’ Harry grumbles, trying to right the ridiculous garment. ‘Fuck these clothes.’ ‘I was trying,’ Iain mumbles, faux-grumpy, ‘but you stopped me.’
Oh snap
