[He reaches out to take the last bra needed, only to be completely taken off guard by the hammy French accent. Despite all the elves he knows having French names, they don't have an accent quite like that; it's part of why he likes listening to Ana talk. But this? This is peak comedy.

Ana is genuinely funny, and it earns her Amal's first breathless, helpless, keeled-over laughter since he got here months ago.]

It's— [BREATHE.] It's the daaaaaarling that got me. Gods, that was...

[Okay give him a minute. He's bracing himself on the couch. In, out. Okay. He straightens after a minute and grabs one more bra, this one a lacy red with little black hearts all over it.]

All right. Last one. [He wrangles it with (gentle) gusto and clasps the bra around its weird all-seeing-ness.]

There you go. Problem solved... momentarily. Hopefully they stop flying around everywhere and let you get some rest.