—aka, dealing chess with a queen is a pawn's tearful gambit
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EXT— 6TH ARRONDISSMENT.
PARIS, FRANCE — MORNING.
SCENE I.
A BEAUTIFUL PENTHOUSE in the best street in Paris, fit for a socialite who I didn't even know existed when I was here in my jobs.
A mark like this is rare. Sure you can say you're the best of the best if you can puncture and alienate the circles of the rich, but just like the rest world of— even the one percent is divided in tiers. Quiet socialites are usually in a hierarchy even the best of us struggle to reach. They are the money and power behind decisions that could affect the rest of the world. They live unbelievably comfortably, back doors already open before they could even look up from unnamed shoes.
(True rich doesn't really care for the titled products. A name is nothing but preference, something to brag about. You buy by the quality).
As soon as the elevators opened to a foyer, my spine straightened. Kristoff felt the movement, with our elbows interlocked to appear a united front. It seemed silly sure, but I knew the character I had to play.
I wasn't too sure the character she plays, but being on guard can't possibly do you any harm.
As long as I acted the part.
"Nervous?" Kristoff asked. "Or excited?" He nodded and Archie who had been behind us had taken the procession, walking ahead to face my next trial.
"Can't I be both?"
"And I thought you were confident."
"Oh, that I am."
Whether that was a bluff is up to you, isn't it? Hardy-har.
What are my first thoughts of Natasha Kim?
She was just like the grey clouds. Hidden beneath her is a thunder thinly concealed. And by god, was she beautiful.
Of course she was, she was Kristoff's aunt for god's sakes.
Dark, pin-straight black hair cut in a severe length just above her collarbones. Darker eyes, lined in a simple kohl, with an oddly Roman nose for an Asian woman. But she was beautifully pale, not like a porcelain, touched more with a little bit of sun. The first thing I notice were her lips, a solid colour of red that left little marks on the coffee she was drinking, matching the exact shade of her nails.
