Cal waved a hand towards the booth's changing room, which consisted of a couple sheets pinned up in a rough frame against the back side of the booth, "Go change, lovely." He said to Needy, arm still around Phoebe's waist, "Have to make sure it fits right."
There was a grin at the panic of the seller, tutting softly and shaking his head, "Shame, that. It's always the normal ones that go off the deep end with no warning isn't it?" He turned his head then to nip at Phoebe's wrist, "Definitely your color, pretty."