"Ah yes." Aramis opens their closet to the sight of them. "Hanging there pressed together, just where they belong." He takes the shirt and pulls it over his shoulders, leaving it open and hanging when he turns.

"Forgive me, these laces are so tight, my fingers are all but numb. I don't know how women manage." Aramis smiles politely at Porthos. "Could you hand me my leathers as well?"