"I am Elsa."
"Lovely name," Mae said.
"What can I help you with today?"
"Elsa needs... well, everything," I explained.
"She’s staying with me for a while, and her luggage was lost."
"Oh, you poor thing!" Mae exclaimed.
"Well, you’ve come to the right place. We’ll get you fixed up in no time."
Before I could say anything else, Elsa had wandered off, drawn to a display of colorful fabrics like a mosquito to a fat guy in a Hawaiian shirt.
She stretched a pair of leggings between her hands, fascinated by their elasticity.
"Is this some form of rubber? How marvelous!" she exclaimed.
Mae watched with amusement.
"She’s not from around here, is she?"
"You could say that," I agreed, keeping my voice low.
"She’s from... overseas. Very different culture."
Elsa had moved on to feeling different fabrics, rubbing them between her fingers with great concentration.
"This blend is quite remarkable," she declared.
"Superior to elven silk—" She caught herself with eyes darting to me in panic.
"I mean, uh, foreign silk!"
"Let me show you our women’s section," Mae said, leading Elsa toward the back of the store.
"We should start with some basics—jeans, tops, underwear..."
To my surprise, Elsa walked right past the practical clothing and made a beeline for the sleepwear section.
She immediately began selecting the skimpiest, silkiest pajama sets in sight.
"These are perfect," she declared while holding up a lavender camisole and shorts set that left very little to the imagination.
"Don’t you want to look at some regular clothes first?" I suggested.
"You know, for going out in public?"
Elsa shook her head firmly.
"If I must endure a prolonged stay in this savage world, I shall do so in comfort and beauty," she insisted.
"Comfort is the highest priority for displaced roy—for people like me!"
"Royalty?" Mae asked with a raised eyebrow.
"It’s a joke," I said quickly.
"She, uh, comes from money. Always jokes about being treated like a princess."
"I see," Mae said, clearly not entirely convinced.
She turned to help Elsa find the right sizes.
"My goodness, you’re tiny! I’m not sure I have much that will fit you properly."
Elsa straightened proudly with her chin lifting.
"Daintiness is the essence of femininity," she declared.
Pretty sure she used that line on me at least once already, and I was starting to suspect I was going to need to get used to hearing it regularly for the next twenty years.
Soon, Elsa had accumulated a pile of pajamas, nightgowns, and loungewear, all in silky fabrics and most of them more appropriate for a honeymoon than everyday wear.
Mae directed her to the dressing room with an armful of items.
Not five minutes later, I heard Elsa’s voice ring out, "Grey Coleman! I require your assistance immediately!"
Mae gave me a knowing wink as I reluctantly approached the dressing room.
"She’s a demanding little minx, isn’t she?"
"You have no idea," I muttered.
I knocked on the dressing room door.
"What’s wrong?"
"This contraption has defeated me," Elsa called back.
"Enter and assist!"
I hesitantly pushed the door open to find Elsa standing there in just her silk undergarments, holding a twisted nightgown in her hands.
She was completely unconcerned about her state of undress, as usual.
This time, she didn’t comment at first when I deliberately looked away out of habit.
But she seemed to take notice when I started peeking a bit more obviously.
"Honestly, you can look. If it’s you, I don’t mind."
"Too tempting," I pointed out.
"Not the best idea, trust me."
"I’m wearing more than I do in the royal baths," she said matter-of-factly.
"Now help me with this. The arm holes have somehow merged with the neck hole."
I controlled my gaze as much as possible while helping untangle the nightgown.
As I held it out for her to step into, my fingers accidentally brushed against the smooth skin of her naked back.
"Apologies," I muttered.
"For what?" Elsa asked, sounding genuinely confused.
I didn’t answer, I just took internal notes about her reaction.
I focused on helping her straighten the garment without any further skin contact for now.
It was nearly impossible in the small space, and we ended up in several almost-compromising positions before the nightgown was properly in place.
"There," I said, stepping back quickly.
"All fixed."
Elsa admired herself in the mirror.
"Quite lovely," she declared.
"The fabric is acceptable."
I took the opportunity to escape the dressing room.
After trying on several more items, Elsa emerged with a stack of approved pajamas and nightwear.
"These will do," she announced.
"Now I require appropriate undergarments."
Before I could protest, Mae was leading us to the very limited lingerie section.
"We don’t have a huge selection, but I’m sure we can find something suitable," she said.
Elsa was enchanted by the variety available.
She held up increasingly revealing items, examining them with open curiosity like a scientist studying specimens from an alien world.
"Grey Coleman!" she called loudly while holding up a lacy red bra.
"Would this contraption be suitable for daily wear?"
I was acutely aware of the other shoppers turning to stare.
"Maybe pick something more... not that," I suggested quietly.
Elsa moved through the selection, picking up and examining everything.
She suddenly held up a pair of crotchless panties with her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Grey Coleman, this garment appears defective," she announced at full volume, drawing even more stares.
"It’s missing the central portion!"
I felt my face burn as an elderly couple nearby turned to look in shock.
"Those are... uh... special occasion undergarments," I managed to say in a strained whisper.
"What occasion would necessitate a hole in one’s underwear?" Elsa asked, genuinely perplexed.
"I’ll explain later," I hissed, taking the garment from her hand and putting it back on the rack.
Elsa continued browsing, holding up various skimpy items for inspection.
"Which of these do you prefer?" she asked innocently.
"Since you will be the one seeing me in them most often."
The elderly couple nearby gasped audibly.
The woman clutched her husband’s arm, and they quickly moved to another section of the store.
"We’re roommates!" I called after them desperately.
"Just roommates!"
This somehow made the situation worse, as the couple hurried away with scandalized expressions.
After selecting several sets of underwear (all thankfully with the "central portion" intact), Elsa announced that she wanted to wear her new pajamas immediately.
"I can’t bear these oversized garments a moment longer," she declared.
"The cloth chafes my sensitive skin."
I paid for a silky lavender camisole and shorts set while Elsa changed in the dressing room.
When she emerged, I found myself staring a bit too long.
The pajamas fit her perfectly, highlighting her petite but athletic frame.
With my baseball cap still perched on her head, she looked adorably incongruous—ready for both bed and a ball game.
"Much better," she declared while twirling in place.
"These garments are worthy of my station."
"You can’t wear pajamas in public," I pointed out.
"Why not?" Elsa challenged.
"They cover all the necessary areas."
"It’s just not... customary," I explained lamely.
Elsa shrugged. "How limiting! Earth customs are so restrictive!"