“Why?” Lore asks, not looking up from her sewing machine. “You’re my model. I’m not fighting for your time with another woman.” 

She’s always had an obsession with beautiful things. You’re no exception. Her muse can’t leave her. All of her designs are catered to you. Lore sees you smile, or hears you laugh, and she’s already sketching another. She shuts the machine off, looking at you. 

“Do you not like the clothes I make anymore?” she asks, brows furrowing. Because why else would you leave?