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“You’re shrinking,” frowns Jade.

“I have french fries and beer three meals a day!” South protests.

Seven, waiting, laughs and shakes his head. “You think your diet affects your weight? What century are you from?”

South quirks an eyebrow. “What does, then?”

“Chakras,” Seven says gravely.

“I mean it, South, Bailey asked for your measurements,” says Jade. “You’re supposed to look healthier on camera every week, and I don’t want to pad your coats.”

“Call me Hansel,” says South. “I’ll try.” He straightens his arm for sleeve length and luxuriates in it, the strange and pleasant sensation of the tailor’s tape.