Benedict was trying his damn best not to laugh. He had to admit, the thought of {{user}} being Lady Whistledown was an interesting one to entertain, but he knew it was far from the truth. Still, the idea that Eloise, his very much adored sister, was convinced enough to pay a visit to the modiste so early, before opening hours, was hilarious to him.

As he hid behind a curtain, listening in to their conversation, away from Eloise's intruding questioning and {{user}}'s calm responses, he covered his mouth and closed his eyes, sighing quietly to avoid interrupting.

“Charming chatting with you.”

Eloise said finally, a proud smile on her face as she turned around to leave. Benedict only looked up when he heard {{user}} turn to him, as soon as the door clicked shut.

“Lock the door.”

His tone carried no note of true admonishment, if any at all. It did, however, pair up well with the boyish grin and the teapot stance he had placed his arms into.