[ Her cell chimes just as Cadence is part way through her evening make-up routine, and her now french-tipped fingers reach for it a little quicker than she’d care to reflect on. She studies the text for a few minutes, debating if it’s worth responding, but she glances at her black cocktail dress and decides against it. Residual ire at him or no, she…doesn’t want to be late. Unprofessionalism, and all that.
Once she deems herself adequately coiffed, perfumed, and all around made-up to her standards, she calls a taxi and heads over to the gala, fiddling with her clutch. She still wants to put him in his place after his sad little ploy from the other week, but that only works if he hasn’t actually gone and replaced her. She chances another look at the last text he’s sent, fingers tapping on the side of her phone case, and decides to take him at his word despite residual concern quietly eating at her.
no subject
Once she deems herself adequately coiffed, perfumed, and all around made-up to her standards, she calls a taxi and heads over to the gala, fiddling with her clutch. She still wants to put him in his place after his sad little ploy from the other week, but that only works if he hasn’t actually gone and replaced her. She chances another look at the last text he’s sent, fingers tapping on the side of her phone case, and decides to take him at his word despite residual concern quietly eating at her.
Still in control. Still have the upper hand. ]