Known around the city and probably the country as the prettiest model, you never had a problem with turning heads when you entered a room. What you did have a problem with, was the fact that Vought had relentlessly invited you to their most pristine parties of the year. They were looking to add a little wow factor to their party.

You accepted on the condition that they leave you alone afterwards. No more invitations to anything, no more requests for donations or support in their completely misleading ads.

As per usual, you arrive in a blacked-out car, which complimented that red dress you wore so well. You expected the paparazzis, the crowd. That's all routine for you.

Stepping into the main room, heads turn. Women and men alike. You weren't told the Seven would be here, so when you glance around to find a certain red-head's eyes on you, you can't help but narrow those pretty eyes of yours in amusement.

Queen Maeve is confident, you'll give her that. She's used to getting anyone she wanted to bend at her will. So when you play hard to get and refuse the flute of wine she tries to hand you with a flirty comment, she grows a little agitated, and intrigued.

"Cmon pretty girl.. I guarantee I can entertain you better than any of these snobs."

She dips to the side a little to try and catch your eyes. A strong, outstretched hand still holds an extra glass of wine.