He's never seen the elf quite so on edge as when he's had to be here. It's understandable from all facets of the situation, and Dorian knows that he himself is in a unique position to be able to help with that. As such, he approaches, hands moving to carefully roll back the draping sleeves of his robes, then carefully removing the new clothes from their display.

"Very dashing, if I do say so myself. I'm sure that our Lady Montilyet spared no expense to make sure you weren't going to embarrass yourself." He teases, but he has no doubt that that had been on Josephine's mind when she'd sent away for the proper tailors.

Dorian assists in laying the garments down on the bed flat, then stops Sen in his fretting with light hands coming to rest on the elf's slender shoulders, then running down his arms.

"Breathe, amatus. I'm sure either the court will love you, or they'll be so distracted by the rest of us that it hardly matters."