That won them over completely.
"Of course, you don't, you poor darling!" Octavia said clasping her hands together in distress for Livia.
"But don't worry", Venia gleamed, "By the time Faunus is through with you, you're going to be absolutely gorgeous!"
"We promise! You know, now that we've gotten rid of all the hair and filth, you're not horrible at all!", Flavius said encouragingly, "Let's call Faunus!"
They darted out of the room.
It was hard to hate her prep team.
They were such total idiots and yet, in an odd way, Livia knew they were sincerely trying to help her.
She looked at the cold white walls and floor and resisted the impulse to retrieve her robe.
But this Faunus, her stylist, would surely make her remove it at once.
The door opens and a young man who must be Faunus entered.
The man had long curly hair. Pieces from the front were pinned in the back. His hair was a dirty blonde but bombarded with highlights of bright magenta and pink for days.
He had broad shoulders and wore a magenta suit- everything was the bright color except for the white patterned dress shirt.
He gleamed at her, "Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes. I've got so many ideas already!"
"I'm Faunus, I'm your stylist." He greeted.
"Livia." She replied, not sure if he'd already been aware of her name.
"Just give me a moment, all right?" he asked. He walked around her naked body, not touching her, but taking in every inch of it with his eyes. She resisted the impulse to cross her arms over her chest, "Why don't you put on your robe and we'll have a chat."
Pulling on her robe, she followed him through a door into a sitting room.
Two red couches faced off over a low table. Three walls were blank and the fourth was entirely glass, providing a window to the city.
Livia could see by the light that it must be around noon, although the sunny sky had turned overcast.
Faunus invited her to sit on one of the couches and took his place across from her.
He pressed a button on the side of the table.
The top split and from below rose a second tabletop that held their lunch.
Chicken and chunks of oranges cooked in a creamy sauce laid on a bed of pearly white grain, tiny green peas and onions, rolls shaped like flowers, and for dessert, a pudding the color of honey.
She tried to imagine assembling the meal herself back home.
Chickens were too expensive, but she could make do with a wild turkey.
She would need to shoot a second turkey to trade for an orange.
Goat's milk would have to substitute for cream.
}5{ - Joy Rides
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