Good thing this was all happening before any of that other bullshit did, otherwise Moana would have been regaled with tales about how he was the Lord of Lords, the King of Gods, and all that crap his wife would be listening to forever. He'd even made a song about it, drummed on his naked stomach, and pretended he was Pavarotti in the universal opera, but let's not get distracted.
Mr. Laurent wore his most dapper of business casual and had allowed Honey to fuss over how straightened and neat the materials were. Really, he just thought he looked good in anything and could've quite frankly showed up in a cheetah print banana hammock and time-warped around looking like a million bucks, and probably able to make anyone take him seriously with one of his Mephistophelian grins. However, as it was, he was dressed the role of rich-blooded neighbor instead of Kingly vagabond.
"I'll knock." he'd said to his lovely wife, knowing her three-I'm-a-jerk-knock would annoy him, and maybe even their new acquaintance. Reaching forward with a knavish smile plastered across his face while he kissed her golden crown just once. He gave the door a shave-and-a-haircut knock, two bits.