Rosela grimaced and looked around. There was something seriously off here. How long had she been in Riverfall, and she was trying to advise what appeared to be a child stuck in a grown man’s body? ”No, it’s not a chicken, I…” One hand fluttered, helpless, before resting on her cheek. ”Chic is not a chicken. It means, you know…fashionable. Good looking. Sparkles and shiny things are definitely not chic. No one wears things like that anymore.”
She didn’t quite feel like she was making a lot of headway here. ”Tell you what, honey. Skip the greens and blues and…silver stuff then. Go for a nice black and gray and get…jewelry.” All six hands popped out dramatically. ”Some nice, pretty, burnished silver. Maybe even some copper - it’ll help your complexion. Some cut glass in there too? Very sparkly. What do you say?”
While she doubted he had the money to deck out in silver, it was possible. She admittedly could see him in dramatic chains and scuffed rings, a little prince of the streets.