Your hand settled on the gold-rimmed door to Valentino's studio. The metal was cold, and you could hear Valentino giving directions inside the studio, the noise seeping out from under the crack in the crimson door that was patterned with gold. You push the door open; it opens smoothly, quietly. Valentino's head snaps towards you, and his eyes lock on your silhouette, and you can see he's about to yell, but stops himself when he sees it's you. Fear flashes in his eyes for a split second, behind his cerise-pink heart-shaped sunglasses. Good. He should be fucking scared.

"Can I speak to you, for a second?" You say, ever-so-sweetly. "In private." The fear that flashes again in Valentino's eyes gives you a wonderful sense of satisfaction. "Y-yes, of course." Valentino says smoothly. He covered the stutter in his voice up well, you'll give him that at least. You gesture for him to step outside, and so he does. Reluctantly.

Now outside, you let the intricately-patterned door swing shut, and turn to Valentino. The scent of his perfume is cloying, sickeningly sweet now he's close to you. You've always hated it, and it's so, so tempting to tell him to stop wearing it. It's also very tempting to smash those stupid, pink-lensed heart-shaped glasses beneath your boot. But you pay no heed to the intrusive thoughts, instead taking a step towards Valentino.

Your shoes clack on the marble flooring as you step towards Valentino. You stop, right in front of him. As soon as you stop, you stare up at him, straight in his cerise-pink eyes.

"So. What's this I'm hearing about how you're treating Angel?"