It didn't take much to restrain her, and she allowed Sam to take hold of her flailing, ripping, pulling arms, dropping her head in shame, or guilt, her plum and black hair concealing her face in a makeshift veil. She let out a small whine and clenched her fists against his sides.
Without moving her hair, she nodded and, pouting (though the look was hardly childish and more heartbreaking than anything), she moved her arms over her head, like a daughter seeking help. "Please?" Elisabeth couldn't meet his gaze as she pleaded with him to help her out of the tainted dress.