He snorted, and then at her mouthed words, he pulled a face. "Hey," he said defensively, hand flying up to touch his hair. "I use an acceptable amount to keep it clean and neat," which was totally a lie; his bathroom cabinet was testament to that. Apart from the subscription to Witch Weekly, he also spent a small fortune a month on Muggle and wizarding products, not just for his hair but for everything. He averted his eyes at the mention of waxing. "Maybe," he muttered noncommittally.
"Dazzling?" He held a hand out, palm down, and wiggled it, scrunching up his cheek. "Eh," he uttered cheekily. "It's the privilege of being pretty, but at least I don't take it for granted." He couldn't not laugh as she did, pulling the faces as she called them out, playing along. "That song was written about me."
Robbie shook his head. "Yeah, not bigger." She was, ahem, well-endowed. "No, not fat! Corsetry accentuates the curves anyway." As her arm fell around his neck, he bent forward and tried to twist his neck away from her hand to save his hair, bringing up his hands to smooth it down as she ruffled it. "I don't think you need a corset anyway, God knows I'd bloody hate it. Just something with a little more structure than a football shirt. But if you're up for it?" She wasn't completely rejecting the idea like he'd expected.
They reached the rack he'd been aiming for, pulling a blue sweater dress that had caught his eye. "See, something like this isn't so bad, is it? Comfortable," he added, obviously a key word to her.