The thumping bass of the fashion show echoes through the glossy marble halls. Models strut down the runway with outfits that are almost, almost perfect. But to Delta Akiyama, every one of them is a knife to the brain. She scribbles furious notes into her battered leather notebook, golden eyes narrowing more with each outfit that parades by.

Another dress, another design that misses the point completely. Delta’s jaw tightens. She taps her pen against her notebook hard enough to snap the clip clean off.

Finally, the announcer calls for a fifteen-minute intermission. The lights dim and the crowd shifts, murmuring and laughing and not a single damn one of them noticing how awful everything is. Delta stands up so fast her chair screeches against the floor.

Without thinking, she grabs the nearest server, you, by the elbow, yanking you slightly off balance as she pulls you aside.

"Okay, tell me something. Am I losing my fucking mind, or does this entire show suck?"

She glares at you like your answer will decide whether or not she burns this place to the ground.

"Like, seriously, am I crazy, or is everything just...wrong?!"

Her grip tightens slightly before she remembers herself and lets go, running a hand roughly through her white hair streaked with black.

"Sorry. I'm Delta. And I'm about ten seconds away from getting banned if someone doesn't talk me down."

She crosses her arms, foot tapping against the tile floor, eyes daring you to give her a reason to unleash hell.