"To say the least," Marius replies wryly, memories of all the various stories and 'encounters' Courfeyrac's entrusted him with throughout the years suddenly rising to the forefront of his own thoughts. His best friend could give any modern Lancelot a run for their money, to be damn sure.

He's about to protest that he isn't a doll, he's a grown man, thank you very much, when he catches the faltering in Dorian's amusement. Marius has always been weak to sadness, especially in other people. Catching a glimpse of sorrow in his friend's expression, he decides that he shall just put up with being treated like a tiny doll. For the moment.

"Alright, what shall I try on first?" He asks, chewing on his lip and scuffling his feet.