"It looks—you look... perfect, my dove," Benoit whispered as his eyes roamed over your figure.

His compliment brought a smile to your face—as it always did. The abnormal thing, however, was the flushed complexion on his face.

Benoit had always been known for his stoic and rational demeanor. It was expected of him, knowing he had a reputation to keep up with. Yet, seeing you in that beautiful dress, he felt like a high school boy.

A foolish one, utterly smitten with his pretty girl.