Return to Sender: Quartz and Gold 0.5

2. The Interview

The train begins to slow. Proxy already up for the day, getting herself ready with a glass of orange juice to her side. The attendant tried to insist on another champagne flute, but Proxy had no want for a foggy mind today. Dealing with the trillionaires was ready difficult enough with a clear mind.

She had showered hours ago, fighting with her hair to lay flat as she combed it into a sleek high ponytail. It required a fair amount of gel, but at least there won't be any flyaways or escape attempts today.

Her visor screams as she steps into her dress, pulling up the fabric carefully. It's an old dress of her mother's. Rich dark green velvet, off the shoulder and coming to mid thigh, a translucent green chiffon overskirt sewn into it. The inner layer is satin, also dark green. A pair of black stockings and a truly ancient pair of heeled boots to compliment the dark scheme. Her blazer is soft gold, and the few pieces of jewelry she has on are small and gold, simple little accents. It will make a statement, and remind everyone of how the world used to look.

With a sigh, she turns the visor on, wincing at the influx of notifications there are. Several people asking when she will arrive, extra interview requests for after this, and an invitation to an end of the year party. She shakes her head, only replying to a handful of requests and none of the questions. They'll get their answer soon enough.

Proxy drains her glass, savoring the citrus taste before walking out to the doors of the train. She adjusts her blazer worringly as the train slowly comes to a stop, a crowd and velvet ropes already waiting for her arrival. Though they can't see her, Proxy can certainly see all of them, and hear. The clicking of cameras, the loud chatter of the people. It grates on the few nerves left, but she bears it.

The visor gets tapped off, and she takes a deep breath, nodding to the conductor to open the doors. It gives a hydraulic hiss, then slides away. Hues of purple and blue flood the car, but she walks forward, not paying mind to the crowd gathered or to the lights. People shout and reach, grabbing at air for her attention, begging for a few words or a signature.

"I've done nothing worthy of this," she thinks to herself, but to them she has. The perfect tale of rags to riches, playing out in front of them. It's what all of them ache for, isn't it? All of these people gathered here. Despite the fact that they are better off than even she was, before she changed to public school,or that they're better off than many people born into this world.

The doors are opened for her by two security guards, well dressed for the interview. She thanks then quickly, sending a small tip to each as she passes by. She can hear the one on her right turn around to look at her, clueing her that they did recieve it. A small chuckle escapes her as she pauses on the carpeted floors, glancing around the building. This isn't the grand part, of course. That's where she'll be taking pictures.

Some people come around and guide her downstairs to the main floor, with restored marble floors and preserved wood railings. Things hard to come by now. They move her around, this way and that, having her sit for makeup several times, reworking it for the lighting and to still match the ever-shifting color of the velvet. Many compliment on her hair, which she smiles and accepts though it grates on her skin. Afterwards, she's given a small luncheon with the staff and gets some time to breathe, whisked away to a green room until the show starts.

The room doesn't have much, compared to so many other places and their maximalism. Proxy wanders over to the couch, thankfully plush, and tries to relax some. A knock comes to the door, though, disturbing her peace once more.

"Yes, who is it?" She calls out, shifting to see the door clearly without strain.

It cracks open, and a face pops out. A young woman, hair piled high and sprayed silver-blue with a heavily painted face of makeup. She smiles, toddling in and closing the door before giving a respectful bow to Proxy.