"Good." She says curtly, feeling a little childish for how smug she feels. Clearly he understands, that's a start. Maybe she won't have to trot that rant out yet again.

She swats the air in front of his hand when he picks at the button. "You can get changed, if you want. The fit is good, it's fine." That's clearly what matters here, the next part is secondary. "Nope. Trust me. I have sewing while drunk down to a fine art. It's just part of the job description, honestly. If you can't embroider while you're wasted out of your gourd then you're in the wrong line of work or you need some good assistants."