[ Eddie is all too happy to assist, zipping her in and out in a flurry of gowns. Each one is different in a way he doesn't quite have the eyes for. There's satin, lace, sequins, and what he's sure is a litany of different fabrics that he doesn't have the name for. Each one seems so spectacularly splendid on her body, fitting perfectly, turning her into a goddess descended from the heavens. He feels out of his depth, almost, wholly under qualified to help her determine which dress is the one. Because he loves her in and everything and nothing, feels a beloved stab of tenderness with each one she tries on.
But the fifth dress--- it's something else. That's the one, even if he doesn't say it just yet. It's light and lacy, drapes beautifully around his body. His eyes go wide at the sight of her in it, and he feels suddenly weak in the knees. Chrissy Cunningham, soon to be Munson, is his own personal angel. Eddie is practically glowing as he rushes to her, pulls her close to him so that he can kiss her. ]
This one. [ That says a lot, given how much he enjoys simply watching her get un and redressed. ] This is the one. Christ alive, you're so beautiful.
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But the fifth dress--- it's something else. That's the one, even if he doesn't say it just yet. It's light and lacy, drapes beautifully around his body. His eyes go wide at the sight of her in it, and he feels suddenly weak in the knees. Chrissy Cunningham, soon to be Munson, is his own personal angel. Eddie is practically glowing as he rushes to her, pulls her close to him so that he can kiss her. ]
This one. [ That says a lot, given how much he enjoys simply watching her get un and redressed. ] This is the one. Christ alive, you're so beautiful.