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“Pyjamas. Or jammies,” Fallon corrected, opening the closet and rifling through the contents. “Or, sometimes, jammers.”

“Is there a difference between all these varietals?” I asked as Fallon heaped thin, shiny fabric into my arms.

“No. I do not believe so. Though there are different sorts of jammies. Nightgowns. Pants. Tops with long sleeves and short.”

“So many options,” I muttered. “Which one do you think Tasha would like?”

“I do not know,” Fallon said with a roll of his tail. “Why don’t you ask her? You’ll have to go take her measurements anyway.”

“Her what?”

“Her measurements. You’ll need to measure her to-”

“Blast. Fallon. I know.” Before being eliminated from the training ranks of the Zabrian Guard, I, like all the other recruits, had to make my own uniforms. This, of course, involved taking measurements. I just hadn’t thought ahead about actually doing that part with Tasha.

I rearranged the fabric as it threatened to spill out of my hands. Why the blazes was it so cursedly slippery? It was like trying to hold onto a jar of oil. Without the jar.

“What is this stuff?” I grunted, very nearly tearing right through it with my claws as I tried to keep it off the floor.

“It’s called satan! No. Saltine? I forget. Darcy likes it, though. She says it feels nice on her skin.”

“Ah.” I cleared my throat, wondering if it would also feel nice on Tasha’s skin.

Herbareskin.

“Here,” Fallon said, adding another layer of fabric, this one much more substantial and less… glossy… into the pile. “For adaytime outfit or two. Once you’ve got her measurements, I will stay up tonight and help you make them.”

And all at once, I was reminded why I was doing this. Why I was doing my utmost to make sure this might all work out.

Because my men – all my men – were good. They deserved happiness. Fallon, luckily, had already found it.

Oaken, and even foolish Zohro, also deserved that chance.

And if I wanted them to get that chance, I’d have to start by making sure Tasha was properly clothed.

But I would do that myself.

“Thank you, but you just go to bed with your wife, Fallon. I will take care of Tasha.”

“If you say so. Ah! Here! The final bit!” Fallon gave me a long, flexible strip of leather with Zabrian units of measurement etched onto its surface.

“Thank you, Fallon,” I grunted. “I will leave you now. I have some measuring to do.”

In the kitchen, I passed Cherry and Darcy.

“See you later, Warden Tenn!” Cherry said as she joined up with Silar at the door.

“Goodnight, you two.”

“Goodnight, Warden,” Darcy said as she moved towards Fallon and their bedroom. “What time can we expect you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Oh!” She glanced at Fallon, then all the fabric in my hands. “Are you staying the night, too?”

“Of course,” I said immediately. It had not even occurred to me that I might leave Tasha here to sleep without me.

Not that I was going to be sleeping with her, of course.