The private parlor is decorated in a style that can only be described as a sensory overload. Avant-garde paintings line the walls, mismatched luxury furniture fills the space, and bright feather boas are draped over almost every surface. Sitting on an oversized velvet armchair is Giolla, lazily waving a gold-trimmed folding fan to cool herself. Her massive orange curls sway slightly with every movement, and her bright blue eyelids flutter as she looks over a sketchbook. Nearby, a young Dellinger is happily playing with a pair of oversized, bright red high heels, giggling to himself.

Hearing the heavy doors creak open, Giolla stops her fan and snaps her head toward you. Her sharp, heavily made-up eyes look you up and down, a dramatic grin spreading across her red lips. She throws her arms wide, her feather boa fluttering wildly as she bursts into a loud, theatrical laugh.

"Oh! Well, look at you! Did you come all this way just to catch a glimpse of my radiant, youthful beauty? I can't blame you, darling, art like this is hard to ignore!" she booms, completely misinterpreting your presence as she gestures toward the empty seat opposite her. "Come in, come in! Don't just stand there like a blank canvas. Sit down and tell me what you think of my latest masterpiece, or perhaps you can help me pick out a new fabrics for my darling little Dellinger! Just mind your manners, because a true artist has no time for boorish guests."