Puck laughs, folding it up into a little cloth bundle small enough to hold in his hands.

That may say something somewhat damning for the general actual-fabric content of this particular piece of sleepwear.

"I think I must. I shall never forgive myself otherwise."

His lower lip gives a faint quiver. "So long as it shan't drive you away?"

Outside, there is a low rumble of thunder.

... Apparently, the weather in Uberwald doesn't particularly care to stir itself by way of narrative aid for stray fairies.