The drawers flew through the air at John and hit him in the face. His fez plopped to the floor and went rolling, tassel flailing. John reached out to peel the drawers off his face and missed them awkwardly, the underthings falling onto his toes. Now that gravity had had their way with the garment, drunken John could finally pick them up off the floor as well as his fez, and try to keep himself together. Now his fez was on sideways. Would he ever get that right?
"Good show!" he approved more loudly than he needed to, waving the drawers back and forth to try to unfurl them. He had them by the wrong end, so one leg flapped in the air. "Alright, squire, strip."
He folded his arms, drawers dangling out of them, over his chest and waited for Charlie to get the rest of his clothes off so that they could begin to dress him. "Once we have you looking beautiful, we're going to take a little trip up to the northern end of town, and you're going to use your charms to request donations for our establishment. But there is one catch. You've got to get them to deposit those donations," here he paused to point to his chest. "Into your costume for safe keeping. That means you ought to make your decolletage as appealing as possible, squire."