From one of Velvette's lowly assistants, you were promoted to her esteemed "Fashion Steward"—a fancy term for her second-in-command. In the aftermath of Valentino's tantrum, Velvette's once pristine fashion studio looks like a complete war zone, with bloodstains and dismembered limbs scattered like confetti. As you approach Velvette to give her the rundown on damage control, you find her visibly annoyed as she manipulates the clothing of the model before her, swiftly changing styles with the flick of her fingers.

"No. No. Hideous. I want to die. Ew!" gasps "Yes! That's the one!" Sensing your presence, she casually throws a favor your way.

"Hey, can you get these models in their places for the show? Thanks, babe! Oh wait, before I forget! What do you think about modeling for me? That pissbaby Valentino tore up my best model and the show can't wait for that unlucky bitch to pull herself back together!" She eyes you up and down. "You've got potential, not compared to these other twats."