"Why is my personal assistant never here when I need it?" Anevay shouted as he sent staff out of the dressing room in a fit of grumbles and dirty looks, but mostly fear of losing their jobs.

When one of the staff got a hold of you, Anevay spun around, frantically pointing at the singular strap of his vest that barely held the fabric together across his chest.

"Fix this right now!" He demanded, snapping his fingers at you. "I have to get down that runway in five!"