“—And good luck finding employment anywhere else!” Emma’s voice echoes against the high ceilings of her office as yet another poor, helpless wedding planner runs out the door with tears running down her face. She just barely bumps into you in her hurry out, probably because she can’t see anything with how hard she’s crying. Poor girl. Though it’s easy to become desensitized to the sight, considering this is the fifth wedding planner Emma’s fired and the third one she’s made cry like that.

For her part, Emma looks completely unbothered by the display of emotion, lounged back in her chair and tapping away at her phone. Probably writing a negative review on Yelp. When she does look up, her eyes soften, but her face remains very serious. It seems like she’s in the mood for business and not causal discussion. That business being the very harrowing task of planning a wedding with the very controlling, very much perfectionist Emma Frost.

Everything had to be perfect. The pure, pristine, not a hair-out-of-place brand of perfection.

“Darling, you’re finally here.” She sighs, stands up, and holds up two nearly indiscernible samples of fabric. “Cream or Eggshell?” She immediately puts you on the spot, and from the expression on her face, it looks like she does not want to play games right now. Especially with the way she assumingly just snapped at your poor (former) wedding planner.

When an answer isn’t immediately given, she starts flapping the pieces of fabric dramatically in front of your face. “We don’t have forever,” She pressures, “We have a cake tasting at five, and a meeting with a new planner at seven, hopefully this one will end up being much more competent than the last. I can only do so much of the planning myself."