Ghent squinted at her. He considered teasing her, saying that she must have [i]wanted[/i] to watch him change, but she turned before he had the chance to dig his own grave. 
	After a pause, he returned his attention to his new-old clothes and started to dress.
	Selecting the shirt first, Ghent worked his arms through the long sleeves. The fabric was somewhat coarse, thin in some spots, and itchy in others. He found that the neckline was cut in a V shape, which could be pulled closed thanks to two leather cords laced between the fabric. The back of the shirt was plain, save for a hood he hadn't noticed before. The shirt was something he could see Henry wearing at a Renaissance Festival, except that Henry refused to wear anything blue, for some unknown reason. 
	"Earth bag..." Ghent snorted lightly at Elayra's name for the backpack. His smirk dissolved at the order. He wasn't attached to the backpack itself, but what it represented. It was the last thing he bought before leaving Earth. 
	Ghent sighed, silently chiding himself. A secondhand backpack was the least of his problems. 
	Before Ghent could work on his pants, he stiffened, a sharp itch between his shoulder blades demanding his attention. Scratching with one hand, he tugged at the shirt with the other to keep the source of the itch away from his skin, the sensation agitating him. It seemed that even the clothes in Wonderland were against him.
	"At least it's warm. And dry," Ghent mumbled to himself. He dropped his hand to his side and scowled. The same couldn't be said for his boxers, but he didn't exactly have anywhere to change out of them. So, they remained.
	Quietly fuming at the injustice of it all, Ghent worked both feet through the legs and pulled up the charcoal-colored pants. To his relief, the pants fit around the waist, but they were a little long. Not as long as Drust's pants, though.
	Ghent moved over to his backpack and crouched down in front of it. He found that the fabric was less coarse than the shirt, something he was immensely grateful for. He hoped that the length of his shirt would help hide the fact that his underclothes weren't fully dry.
	"Giving [i]what[/i] more control?" Ghent caught the end of Elayra's statement. He peered over his shoulder at her, brows raised. He couldn't tell if she was talking to him, or to herself, but he didn't have time to question her. Drust was heading their way.
	Hurriedly, Ghent emptied the contents of his backpack and shoved everything into the bag as instructed. He gripped the empty backpack as he stood, stiff as a board, like a cadet facing a sergeant. His eyes flickered between the Wonderlanders, a too-familiar feeling of panic settling in. The feeling urged him to say something.
	"The..." Ghent blanched. Drust had sheathed his weapon, but he didn't exactly seem calm. His fingers were curled into a fist. "The clothes fit," he stammered, a weak attempt to pacify him -- and the Curse.