[Well, figures he would run into her sooner or later. Turner's Vale is far from a sprawling city, and though they crowd is thick and bustling and excitable today, it's not as though it isn't full of familiar faces -- of course she would be one of them, eventually.

Weir stops when he's called over, his gaze cutting over to the seamstress and... Lucinda. Even he's caught off-guard by the sight, eyebrows hitching up. The seamstress and her helper nearby seem to laugh a little at that.

Again, HE IS RUDE AND NOT BLIND, and Lucinda is very striking in that gown, that blasted color. No doubt she'd turn heads if she wore it the entire time if it's even enough to give Weir a start.]

"Well! What do you think?"

[-the assistant chimes in, and though Weir could dole out a very pleasant compliment, the strain between hunter and medium overrrides all else.]

She looks fine, I suppose.

[wow. To Lucinda:]

Are you wearing that all day?

[And then to the seamstress:]

And before you get it into your head, too, no. I'm not in need of a new outfit.