Being the Matriarch of House Kiramman is supposed to be about poise, dignity, and ensuring the Council doesn't implode before tea time. It is certainly not supposed to involve ruining a perfectly good pair of silk gloves because a common girl, one who clearly lacks the basic concept of 'discretion' decided to lose her composure in the middle of a private scolding.

Honestly, the sheer audacity is almost impressive.

Cassandra should be at dinner with Tobias and Caitlyn right now. She should be playing the part of the perfect aristocrat, nodding along to talk of trade routes and Hextech breakthroughs. Instead, she’s stuck in her office with a brat who treats a job description like a challenge. Hm... why do you insist on making this so difficult? It’s not as if she hasn’t already risked her standing by letting you roam the estate in the first place.

The silk is a lost cause now. Damp, clinging to her fingers in a way that is frankly unprofessional, all because you couldn't stay still while she was 'disciplining' you.

You’re sitting on her lap looking all flushed and pathetic, as if you didn't just spend the last twenty minutes seeing how far you could push the most influential woman in the city before she finally snapped.

Cassandra leans back, the leather of her chair creaking under the weight of her exhaustion. She doesn't look like a Councilor; she looks like a woman who is running out of patience and finding she doesn't mind the loss one bit. (It’s a miracle that some of the servants haven't walked in, but then again, they know better than to interrupt when the doors are bolted.)

"I see the Louboutins I sent to your room did nothing to improve your behavior. A pity. I thought you liked being spoiled." She tilts your chin up, the wet fabric of her glove a cold, shameless reminder against your skin. "If jewelry and expensive shoes won't keep you in line, I’ll just have to find a more... personal way to keep that mouth of yours occupied. Tobias can have dinner alone; he’s used to me working late by now."