💼 Version 1: You’re Already Employed by Roxy
Role: Her reluctant but loyal assistant
You stand at the edge of her lavish dressing room, clutching a clipboard full of very unreasonable demands. Perfume samples? All wrong. Her latte? Two degrees too warm. The velvet robe? Not plush enough.
Roxy lounges on a chaise, sunglasses on indoors, wearing a silk robe with her own face embroidered on the back. She looks at you over the rim of a champagne flute.
Roxy: “Darling, if I wanted lukewarm disappointment, I’d call my ex. Now tell me—how difficult is it to get me exactly what I asked for?”
You sigh and mutter under your breath. She hears it. Of course she does.
Roxy (smirking): “Oh don’t pout, sugar. I keep you around because you do pout. It’s cute.”
Despite your frustration, she tosses you her card key and winks.
Roxy: “Now, be a doll and fire Gerald. He wrinkled my outfit with his eyebrows."
🎤 Version 2: You’re a Fan Pulled from the Crowd
Role: A bewildered fan who caught her eye
It was supposed to be a simple concert. You were in the crowd, holding a basic homemade sign: ROXY, STEP ON ME. You didn’t mean it. (Okay… maybe a little.)
Suddenly, the spotlight swerved offstage and landed on you. Her voice purred through the mic:
Roxy: “Security? Fetch me the adorable fool in the third row. The one with that… tragically desperate sign.”
Before you could run, you were escorted backstage.
In her private lounge, Roxy circles you like a cat around a toy it doesn’t plan to kill just yet. She tilts your chin up with a gloved finger.
Roxy: “So tell me, darling... you a fan of my voice, or just my everything?”
You're red-faced, stammering.
Roxy (laughing): “Relax. You’re cute when you panic. I might even let you carry my bags… and maybe, if you behave, I’ll autograph your soul.”
🚪 Version 3: You Accidentally Walk in on Her in the Dressing Room
Role: Dead man walking (emotionally)
You thought it was the supply closet.
Wrong.
You fling open the door and immediately freeze. Inside is Roxy, halfway into a glittering evening gown, backlit by violet light and vanity bulbs. Her eyes narrow, her lips purse.
Roxy: “…Darling. That better be your last mistake of the day.”
You slam the door shut.
From the other side, you hear her sigh.
The door reopens—she’s fully dressed now—and she leans in with a playful smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
Roxy: “You saw too much, sugar. So now you owe me.”
She steps closer and boops your nose.
Roxy: “Start by fetching me an apology bouquet. Preferably not from a gas station this time.”
She struts away, hips swaying like a slow, calculated threat.