We left off at the fashion show with Sherri chatting to a mysterious fellow in the corner as Fin and Teri mingle. The walk is starting shortly and some of the models have begun to move towards the backstage doors.
"Ah, you flatter me, love. A little creation of my own, you see."
"Oh, so you are the designer? I am impressed." He sips his champagne and motions to Fin and Teri. "What was your thought process? I interpreted the collection as a statement on beauty standards and perceptions of beauty in our society, but I am interested to hear your conceptualization of its meaning."
The model, who's wearing one of those long swooping black-and-silver dresses with a high neck and is plucking only slightly at her food, glances up and blinks in annoyance at the imposition on her table. "Taken."
@Sciborg "Ah, darling, you are quite the connoisseur, I see." Sherri takes a polite sip herself. "It is a commentary on the different types of inner beauty you can find in different people. In some, they hold a darkness within, that gothic timelessness so often carelessly disregarded. Others capture a depth you cannot only see, only getting glimpses of the truth. And in some, like a breath of fresh air, let themselves refreshingly free, basking in the sunlight of their inner radience."
"Marvelous," he says reverently, swishing his champagne around in the glass. "Oh, ah bon. You are a visionary. I strain to remember the last time I saw something truly original in a show like this one. Do you plan to make more of these pieces, Madame...?"
Teri motions and, for good measure, sends a gust to ruffle the little paper cards placed next to each dish with allergen information (specifically, the one of the apple turnover)
@Mithical "Monsieur suffices, I believe." He winks rakishly, drains his champagne and delicately sets it down on a nearby tray. "I do look forward to seeing your walk, cherie. Perhaps we might discuss business."
@Mithical You catch a glimpse of Fin looking positively menacing in the direction of someone, but the crowd is too thick for you to make out what's actually happening. From your perspective she looks like she's potentially about to whip out the Gesta and throw down.
Once the lemon puffs are eaten Teri's plate has a few of those wooden sticks people skewer finger food with. She tucks them into a hidden pocket. No need to waste a weapon/lockpick.
(if you want me to stop my parallel story of Teri Eating Food you can tell me)
Sherri will stand next to Fin and turn to this other model with the iciest smile possible. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, honey, all I heard was something about being an amateur off the street." She wrinkles her nose slightly. "Don't worry, though, I'm sure eventually you'll find a decent designer to parter with, love."
The model huffs louder. "I don't have to take this from bumpkins," she says, and stands up and swishes off with her plate in tow. She pushes it at a staff member as she passes, and the boy fumbles frantically to grab it before it spills on the floor.
@Mithical The particular style of dress she was wearing rings a bell in your mind - you definitely know the designer, but you're not quite placing the name. Maybe if you saw it in a better light.
As the model huffily pushes past the man in the checkered suit, he raises an eyebrow at her and then gives you a mischievous smirk, and then nudges a passing waiter at just the right angle for him to stumble, lose his grip on his platter and dump two glasses of champagne across the front of her dress. She shrieks so loudly that heads turn all over the floor and sprints for the bathroom, screaming, "YOU LITTLE - this cost a THOUSAND DOLLARS!"
"My, my, that was quite unfortunate," Sherri says out loud, clucking her tongue and shaking her head. "I do hope she manages to recover the dress. Couldn't have happened to a nicer person."
That does make you recall a luxury brand name - Harold Horne - which seems to line up with her style and the jewelry she was wearing. She might be sponsored by a large brand rather than coming from an individual designer.
"Just mingle, darling, but please avoid causing any scenes, sweetie. I don't have enough social capital yet to be spending too much in one place, I'm sure you understand."
@Mithical The first walk time slot is about to start at this point, so it's almost noon. You note at this point that Victoria has exited the gathering space, presumably because - as a celebrity - she has locked down the first walk time.
"Well, darlings, we have half an hour until our walk time. Now's the time for any questions, touching up your makeup, or anything else. We need to be behind the curtain in twenty minutes, so let's make sure we're all 100% on how everything works."
"It's... a bit more involved than that, dears. You have to walk with confidence. You have to walk with style. You have to be glowing. Everything has to look divine. Just trotting back and forth on the runway is not going to cut it."
"Why don't we head towards backstage and I'll demonstrate, darlings?"
The backstage area is around the corner from where you're currently sitting and dining, and there's a waifish young girl by the door awkwardly checking a tablet and allowing people to pass in and out. You notice she's checking IDs and driver's licenses.
"I'm good!" she stammers hastily, fumbling to poke at her tablet. "Um, hi - I know you, you're signed up right? I'm just supposed to make sure everyone's authorized."
"Of course, go on in." She unlocks the door for you and holds it open. "Just, uh, you can take one of the side rooms, let me know if you need more room."
There are some assorted mirrors, counters and other backstage accessories inside, and you note that some of the designers are back here fussing over their models and making final adjustments. One of the nearby young male models is busily trying to fix a button on his tuxedo, muttering, as his designer clucks his tongue and comments on how he'd better be careful or he'll end up like that poor lady who got champagne spilled on her.
Once in, Sherri will turn to Teri. "Alright, darling, first things first. You are the Skulker. You don't need to flounce so much as stalk. You are darting from shadow to shadow, the night sky reflected in a puddle, the darkness in the center of your eye. You aren't some circus performer. Do you understand what I'm getting at, dear?"
@AncientSwordRage As you collectively make an entrance, the male model looks up briefly and smiles, then goes back to trying to fix his button, and a few other nearby people nod and acknowledge your presence with looks of admiration. You get the sense you've made a good first impression.
"And Fin, darling, remember: You are the Lurker. You are the trench at the bottom of the ocean, the watching eyes in the night, the dream that slips from your grasp as you wake. You ripple and glide. You are fluid, never remaining still, but never moving suddenly."
"As for me, as the Breath of Fresh Air, I need to follow you two up with a breezy, refreshing, and clean entrance. I am the surface to your depth, and the light to your dark. I oppose and complete you two."
"Do you think all of my outfits through like that?" the model whispers in awe to his designer, listening in on the descriptions. "Of course I do, hon," the designer murmurs back, sounding like he definitely doesn't.
@Mithical You peer through the curtain and are immediately blinded by the shining glare of spotlights and lights onto the stage; it's so bright from this angle that you can barely make out the runway if you squint. It's a long, light-lined runway with a white linen carpet, and the crowd is pretty sizable for these first walks, maybe two hundred or three hundred people. There are a few members of the press in the corner, including Jesper, snapping pictures.
In your current slightly sleep-deprived state it's like opening the drapes in the morning when you have a hangover and getting blasted by the sun.
