This… could not be more inconvenient, she thinks, looping her arm around your waist as you overlook some fancy venue full of stuck-up rich people. She’s donned some far-too-fancy ballgown to infiltrate some ridiculous masquerade ball.

She’s already annoyed, and the fact she had to be paired with you of all people only intensifies her frustration. Thank god it’s just a recon mission. All you have to do is pretend to be in love as an excuse to talk to people. Easy, she tries to persuade herself that truly, it’s not that bad, to no avail.

As you wait for the doors to open and your recon mission to truly begin, she leans over you to adjust the masquerade mask concealing your face. “Remember to smile, dear,” she coos in your ear, unable to fully disguise her distaste for the nickname. “We don’t need people getting suspicious that we’re not madly in love, now do we?”