“You and your compatriots have been going down those stairs for-.”

  “I reckon eightish minutes.” Liv interrupts her boss, her eyes darting around the stairwell. Charlotte was quite a bit faster going down than she was going up. She'd cleared more distance than Liv had thought possible in the time allotted; though, it seemed they would still be on a crunch for time.

  “Quite the way down then.” Her boss comments, a sentiment shared by Liv. She looks to her side, seeing Donovan completely limp, a smile on his face. While not adverse herself, Liv didn’t exactly enjoy being dragged around like a doll; however, getting to their destination on time was imperative. She knew she wouldn't be fast enough, so she accepted it.

  Liv could hear it before she could see it, the plucking of strings and blaring of brass. The fundamental tune of it has changed, a bit rougher in tune with more brass than string. It’s hypnotic in its sway, more a windy autumn day than a warm summers breeze. It's different, though to say it's inferior would be an insult to the difference in both.

  “Hey, they’ve already set up the orchestra,” Donovan comments as Charlotte comes to a halt, creaking the door open to an opulent hall. Liv remembers it well, almost lost in a trance as Donovan continues, “and we got, like, 45 seconds to spare!”

  “You could have warned me far sooner.” Charlotte grunts, patting out her dress as she walks forth. There's a certain grace in her step, almost like a ghost gliding over ice. It’s ethereal, practiced, memorized. Donovan, on the other hand, walks casually beside her with a grin on his face, his hands swinging by his sides.

  “I was lost in my story! Can’t a man engage in a conversation with his good pal?” He questions, giving her a nudge with his shoulder.

  “Of course you can,” Charlotte responds, her hands clasping together as veins rise forth, her eyebrow twitching, “and later, we shall get lost in some training. How would you like that?”

  Donovan gulps, his face dropping as he tugs at his tie. “I, uh… Think we got off on the wrong foot. I’ll warn you better next time.”

  “Well aren’t you kind.” Charlotte muses, a small smile gracing her face. She quickly recollects herself, a neutral cold washing over her face as she continues forward. Liv follows behind, her gauntleted hands at her sides as she looks up, the music passing over her like waves in the ocean. God was it good, the groovy melody nestling itself in the deepest nooks of her mind– a worm she would remember for ages to come. She couldn’t help but to match her steps to the beat, keeping in tune with the beat as they arrived at the doors, walking through the doors.

  The room in front of them can only be described as a ballroom of fanciful proportions. Shining chandeliers glow above them, their radiance emanating down onto the shining floors alongside what natural sunlight can seep through the single slit in the wall, marble pillars jutting into the floor to the arched ceiling. The roof is painted with various iconography involving humanity with people Liv has never seen. Four people covered heat to toe in armor, each reaching a hand toward a shining star. That star seems to mark the center of the room, a light affixed into it to give it an almost hypnotic glow.

  Those people jump out at her, each of them a titan in stature, their visages made completely of stained glass. Whoever they are– or were– they had to be important.

  Tables line the sides of the room, each stacked with different types of tantalizing meals: steaks, hams, lambs, corn, berries, desserts, and other fanciful dishes are packed together in a gluttonous display of opulence. People mill about as waiters and waitresses roam around– champagne and wine bottles in hand– attentive to the patrons around them. Most importantly to Liv, however, is at the back of the room on an elevated stage. An orchestra with all the works: trumpets, trombones, stand-up bass', violins, and cellos bellow their tune– a hypnotic swing added to the addictive music– a piano serving to lead then in some pied piper-esque quire.

  “Ain’t that somethin’.” Liv near whispers as she looks with awe at the opulence, every sense lost in bliss as she saunters in with her compatriots.

  “Somethin’ might be an understatement for whatever the hell this is.” Donovan says, his own eyes widening a hint as he adjusts his tie once more. “I’d say ‘too much’, or ‘damn’. But that's just me.”

  “Please keep such comments to yourself, you two.” Charlotte gently chastises, all her humor vanishing into a faux warmness. Her face looks friendly, but her eyes contain a cold, calculation that belies her true feelings. “Though I do loathe it,” She says quieter, her voice a low whisper, “This is politics now. If you wish to make it far, making the right allies is key. This goes double for you, Liv.” She adds, her eyes locking on Liv. “As a top contender, you have to be respectful while being powerful. Be kind, be courteous, and don’t dig into personal lives. Keep it short, concise, and friendly.”

  Liv nods slowly, her eyes focused on Charlotte's. Friendly and concise… She could do that. A firm handshake and a name, just like her ma taught her. That shouldn’t be too hard. Charlotte returns her nod with a quick, warm smile before returning to her old expression.

  “Donovan, stay with her. I have some… Matters to attend to.” She says, muttering the last part with more than a hint of contempt.

  Donovan gives a quick, mock salute as his feet clack together. “Ma’am, yes ma’am!”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Charlotte can only roll her eyes, a soft snicker escaping her mouth as she walks off, a dignified sway in her step. Liv looks over the crowd, watching them all walk. Each of them– all assured and dignified in their own ways– seem to have experience in this walk of life: walking, talking, laughing, and socializing. They’re all so competent, so good at just being people. It was more than a little daunting.

  “Well, guess we oughta get going.” Donovan says excitedly, bumping Liv on the shoulder with his elbow. “As your bodyguard for the night, i demand to be fed! Let's go hit up the snack table before we get or schmooze on.”

  Liv gives him a glance before nodding. She could go for a snack right about now, and having a bit of time to mentally prepare would do her some good. "Fine," she starts, "But I wanna go look at them sweets first. I ain't eatin' no cheese this early."

  CLACK.

  Her foot clacks against the tiled floor, resounding through the room gently. The music may continue, but the conversation halts as all eyes turn to her, the recognition in them evident. Liv stays silent for only a moment, a deer caught in the headlights before the stampede begins to form as hundreds of people dash toward her. She looks back, her eyes wide as she seeks the defense of Donovan. He looks ahead at the crowd, his eyes slowly closing as he turns his head to Liv.

  “Charlotte tricked me.” He says softly, his hand coming to give Liv's shoulder a quick shake. A tear rolls down his cheek, a look of acceptance on his face. “We’re done for.”

  “What does that even mean-.” She starts, her voice coming to an abrupt halt as the crowd swarms her, their voices a cacophony of greetings and propositions. They all blend together, hands outstretching to shake hers as they speak.

  “Pleasure to meet you-”

  “If I may-.”

  “I admire your strength-.”

  “That dress looks wonderful-!”

  Liv feels the vertigo, her head spinning as the voices bombard her with questions, compliments, and everything under the sun. She couldn’t even see Donovan anymore, his visage lost within the sea of people. She was alone, stranded in the middle of a conversational whirlwind. Everytime she tries to lock onto someone, their voice is drowned out by someone else's. The crowd only seemed to grow more and more. There wasn’t a concrete hand to shake, not a person to introduce herself to. She tried to call for her boss mentally, to ask them for answers… But for some reason, she couldn’t reach them. It was a nightmare scenario, one she wanted to escape

  But escape seemed impossible-.

  Suddenly, Liv was back in the hall, the chatter of the room gone, the music muddled by the closed door. It sent her for a loop, her hand coming to her head as she stumbled on unsteady feet. Behind her came a mad cackle, a familiar hand clapping her on the back, causing her to stumble forward unsteadily.

  “Well didn’t you handle that like a real trooper?” George’s voice booms out, mad cackles peeling from his lips like a fox. “Seriously, I was damn sure they’d killed you for a second!”

  Liv slowly rubs her head, turning an eye to glance at the weathered old man. He’s dressed in sleek slacks with suspenders wrapping up to his shoulders. A well tailored dress shirt wraps around his chest, his weathered eyes crinkling at the edges as he looks to her, his hands hidden in his hands snaking back to his pockets. His head– just like his ratty compatriot from a few days before– is covered by a bowlers cap.

  “How…” Liv starts before stopping, a wave of nausea crashing over her. Slowly, she regains her bearings, looking at him with glossy eyes. “How’d ya get me outta there?”

  George’s smile grows as he pats his pocket, coyly winking. “Just a bit of magic, kid.”

  “Uh huh.” Liv murmurs, her back impacting against the wall as she slides down, sweat matting her forehead, makeup streaming down her face. “Gosh, this day is a nightmare. I'm gonna make myself look dumb."

  “Yeah. Probably.” George says, stealing a glance at the door before returning his gaze to Liv. “But the event isn’t over, and you aren't gonna know 'till you try. Get your move on, talk to some new people, show those nepo’s why you got number five!”

  “I dunno how I’d do that.” Liv mutters, her gauntleted hand coming to rest on her forehead. The heat seemed to escape her slowly, a slight chill washing over her. It felt nice in its own strange way, like a comforting breeze on an autumn day.

  “Simple.” George says, his smile growing as he extends his hand out to her, “Don’t take shit from anyone. You're a hot prospect, and nobody's gonna risk making you an enemy. If you’re not interested, say so. If you get uncomfortable…” He peters off as he swings his other hand in a faux punch. “You get the message, yeah?”

  Liv peers up at him, processing his words. It seemed simple on paper, and she figured it would be simple in practice. Being called a hot prospect did make her feel better in a sense, a small smile gracing her face as she accepted his hand, his strong frame helping her to her feet in an instant. “Yeah, I reckon I can do that.”

  “Then I’ll be watching over you. Good luck, kiddo!” He says, waving his hand as he backpedals, sliding through the door as he opens it. Liv looks on, steeling her nerves as she follows. Her mind is focused, repeating the same phrase over and over.

  Act tough.

  She opens the door, the music blaring into her ears once more, the smell of food and various perfumes wafting through the air. She takes deep breaths, trying to stay focused as she squares her shoulders.

  Act tough.

  She slides into the room, trying her hardest to locate anyone she knew. After a moments search– stood out against the black, brown, and blonde hairs– is Kara, nursing a small cup of champagne. Liv nods, her conversational buffer spotted.

  Act tough.

  “YARRR! IT BE A PLEASURE TO MEET YA-!” A voice booms out just beside her. Liv turns to the voice, her body acting before she can. The man seems to be dressed in a sort of pirate outfit, the ensemble including a tunic of some sort with brown pants and a genuine eyepatch. It matters not, however, as Liv’s fist buries into his face on instinct, his body careening sideways.

  …She might have tried to act a bit too tough.