They’re seated together on a bench, close, though not close enough to be touching. She appreciates that he’s taking care with her dress, considering that it’s Dior. Not that that probably means anything to him.

“I have,” she confirms, biting her lip a little so as to keep a straight face. “Voluntarily.”

Poor thing. He seems miserable. Midge hopes that she’s able to at least bring some joy to him tonight.

“You go into cages with lions voluntarily,” she says teasingly.