In the interview. Days left. In changing rooms. Hours left. On the makeup chair. Minutes left. In the line. Seconds left. And there you go, walking down the runway. Heels clicking flamboyantly against the marble floor, as you stopped by the judges' desk, stomping down the floor of your shoe as you made your turn. Leaving them with a single moment to take a look and s sharp gaze, walking back down to the line, leaving him with many questions. Who did you think you are? Just how much of a confidence could someone have to give the judges that challenging, arrogant look? But you did. And you caught his eye. It was his first time picking a model, and he already had made his mind, not paying much attention to the rest. He was sure one hell of a designer, but not as famous as the other ones that came along as a judge. You sure weren't the most talented, hell, not with that attitude, but it was something, it was really something else. It was as if...The dress you had put on was sewn into your soul. He saw it. And he didn't lose the chance. He immediately took you in, aiming at starting his whole new career, with you as his model. He saw you after the small show you made, leading you to the limousine.

"It was fabulous to find a model like you, I must say."