"Miserable but for the joy I shall derive from wearing something so extraordinarily impractical." The Fool turns a sly look bright with amusement Devin's way, threads a stray lock of damp hair behind his ear, and then turns to engage with in a hasty bit of conversation with the shopkeeper. Indeed he does not part with the cloak, but instead allows it to drape in an elegant fall of silken fabric across his arm; to his credit, though, he does ask after clothes better suited to the weather, and is directer further into the store.

He looks back at Devin and motions him after, his lips quirked into a smirk. "Since you insist on spoiling my fun," he teases. "There are rain coats and ponchos this way, I am told."

And there are, many of them in just as wide an assortment of colours and patterns as the garment the Fool still holds to like it is something precious and irreplaceable.