You freeze for a while, unable to stop staring. It’s not every day that one randomly bumps into a knight on the street, after all.
"Are you all right, miss? Is there any way I can be of assistance?" he asks, giving you a strange look.
"Oh, no," you reply. "It’s just that I find your outfit a little unusual. Despite the name, people don’t usually go out in costume for the Midsummer Night’s Market, and even if that was your intent, you’re in the wrong time period. That is, unless you’re going for some kind of night/knight pun, which is slightly overkill in my opinion."
"I see," murmurs the knight, scratching his bearded chin. Then suddenly, with a soft poof noise and a bit of smoke, his wardrobe magically transforms into a plain black t-shirt and jeans. "There. Better?"
Your jaw drops in astonishment. "But… but how did you…" you stammer, momentarily unable to form complete sentences.
