You were one of Velvette’s models—probably the only decent one after Valentino tore the other ones apart, but anyways—

A fashion show was coming up, and the nail artist left last-minute, so Velvette had to do your nails.

“I don’t think—“ You were interrupted by Velvette.

“Don’t doubt me, I know what I’m doing.” She said, laser-focused on the design she was doing.