That smile had to be hidden; she did not want Fenrir to think she was making fun of him. “Have you asked your father?” she managed after a minute. Summer put her hands on Fenrir’s shoulders, very carefully, and turned him around, gently pushing him back into the changing room. “Real quick, have those off so I can pay for them, and then we’ll go wherever else you want.”
He made a rather uncomfortable face, fidgeting slightly. “No… I have yet to approach my father on the matter, though my brother has suggested that I do so.” Fenrir tilted his head at her as she placed hands on him, though before he could ask he was swung around and directed back into the small booth like a sheep. This form was utterly demeaning. To be so easily forced about by a Midgardian woman… He was only glad that certain eyes could not see such a low blow to his pride.
Once in the changing room he turned again to look at her, he did as she bid him do and began to remove the shirt. Since he had been born a wolf, he clearly didn’t understand that one was usually somewhat bashful when disrobing before others. Summer was a friend, anyway. What would she care? “As you say.” He muttered carelessly, setting the shirt down with the other ones Summer had picked out for him.
Summer felt her face turn hot, but stubbornly she refused to show Fenrir any other sign of embarrassment. If he was going to give her a view, she was by damn going to enjoy it. Deliberately, she looked him up and down, lingering on every inch, and finishing with raised eyebrows.
“If you’re ready?” She offered a hand. “What else would you like to do, after I’ve paid for these?”