The bra she'd given him was plain enough to almost be generic, like it might've belonged to anyone--that had sort of been the point. But she knows it's hers, and he knows she knows, and for half a moment after he turns around and Rosie really, properly sees him wearing a bra she knows belongs to her, their embarrassed awkwardness from before threatens to descend all over again. She forces it back, trying for practicality again as she looks him over.

"It's nearly there," she says, reaching to loosen one strap where it's digging into his shoulder. "Um, another thing that might...help, I suppose, it's something the salesgirl pointed out the last time I was shopping is...you can kind of...there's a scooping thing you can do, to make it more comfortable?" She huffs out a sharp, exasperated breath, hard enough her shoulders slump a little on the exhale as her already-red face darkens a few more shades. "I don't have to. I really don't. But it might be easier if I just do it, rather than try to describe?"