Yellow, Davina declares pompously, is the new black, and Orlando keeps his thoughts off his face (as always) and obediently starts clearing the patterns and fabrics he they've been working on for the better part of two weeks off the table (as he's never done before) – his hands meet Alex's, softly, a mere brush, barely enough to remind him to set aside this one particular pattern he created with Alex in mind. In yellow, it will look atrocious; in black, it will be stunning.

On Alex, he fears it will be utterly devastating, but then, nearly everything is. It's Alex.