G'raha has never attended so formal an event in his life! Not even acquiring his Archon marks had been given such pomp and circumstance. Dressed in a gown in a deep emerald hue that clings to his body and shows more skin than it covers, he walks the red carpet on Zoro's arm, and the warmth of his companion's hand on the small of his back-- just above the base of his extremely sensitive tail-- is enough to make blood rush southward. The garment seems to be enchanted to keep everything smooth until someone else's hands adjust it, though, so he's already in quite the state by the time they reach their 'seat.'

"Zor--" he starts to say, though the swordsman seems quite distracted by his-- what was it the employee had said? Swag bag?

"Zoro, please..." He reaches out to steady himself with one hand against his companion's arm, his hair already coming loose from the small chignon at the nape of his neck due to a prickle of sweat along his scalp. "Your hand was so close to my tail, I..." He takes a slow breath to steady himself, but this close to someone he has such a fondness for and can smell even through the faint scent of beauty products only serves to make his situation worse.

He gives pause, though, ears twitching-- he's not the only one in such a state, given the moans from rows away. He clears his throat gently, and steps closer to Zoro, face flushed. "I require your assistance."