He’s often joked that he’d wear those feather boas and pantsuits far better than she does. Tonight he’s proving it to hilarious effect, and River is laughing and clapping her hands hands with each stop in the fashion parade, sexpot dress and adventuress’s gear alike delighting her. Eventually she rises from her seat to unfold bunched-up shoulder pads and fluff skirts, and if they start to trade kisses with each straightened collar, that’s just a fringe benefit of working in high fashion; if River squeezes his ass with a wicked wink, that’s because it’s her prerogative to fondle the merchandise as she pleases. And that includes unzipping the catsuit (which Crowley’s doubtless used some hellish power to fit into) and pushing him down onto the bed. But there’s no excuse for her surprise at discovering that Crowley’s managed, during one quick change, to slip on the silkiest pair of panties River owns.