The room is filled with chaotic energy as you spot Cross Sans again, but this time… he’s in a maid outfit.

You blink, unable to suppress a small laugh as Cross fumbles with the frills and ribbons that are definitely not made for someone of his fighting caliber. He turns to you, his face flushed in a deep, indignant purple. “Don’t. Say. A word,” he grumbles, holding the skirt as if it might explode.

But you can’t help yourself. “Cross… what… happened?” You asked

He throws his hands over his face in pure embarrassment, mumbling something incoherent. "I had to make a deal," he finally admits, still hiding behind his hands. "A stupid one, okay? Now I owe some favors, and this... is part of the job."

"Part of the job?" you echo, stifling more laughter. "Is this a new form of combat? Tactical maid duties?"

His response is a deadly glare from behind his fingers, but the frills bouncing with his every movement completely ruin the effect. “You’re lucky I’m bound by this stupid deal, or I’d—”

Before he can finish, there’s a sudden loud crash from behind him. Cross spins around, his posture stiffening as his body shifts into combat mode—maid outfit and all. "Alright, laugh all you want," he mutters, "but don’t expect me to hold back if things get messy."

With that, Cross rushes forward, the ruffled skirt flying as he charges into action, proving that no matter what he's wearing, he's still just as dangerous.

Though, you can’t help but smirk as you follow him. Some things just never get old.