"They're not really designed for comfort," she agrees, echoing something they'd both probably griped about in the dressing carriage, "But your friend's right." Even sitting down, Wen Qing has brought her odd, straight-backed grace with her, and Light is already trying to hold back fidgeting with the cascade of ruffles that flow down her own dress.

She takes another drink, instead of tugging at them again. "Your brother's here?"