Victoria doesn't blush as she stands there in his skivvies. It seems the petitie maid favors black for her brazier and panties... the latter of which seems to sport a cute skull image or two. Odd.

She offers no opposition as he slips the dress onto her, keeping her fidgeting to a minimum, both to be professional and to avoid needle jabs. As he sews her in and asks how it fits, she looks down and runs her hands along her sides, hips, and... chest.

Or lack thereof.

She pats the loose fabric over his bossom a few times, before her head droops and her shoulders slump. "It's a bit loose in the front, sir..." she quietly observes. "Though that isn't a design flaw, necessarily. Just... something to bear in mind?" she mutters, unable to stop herself from fidgeting a bit. Stupid Fate, making her flat-chested. Skeletons had better cleavage than her.

Seriously. She'd studied them extensively.