"Go big or go home, amirite?"
The limo pulled up downstairs, and the driver called.
"Are you talking about my shoes?"
"No, Quinn, your date for the gala."
"You're rather small, actually."
"Only when you're wearing those heels. Okay, I was talking about your shoulders, umm, neckline I mean. You look femme and gorgeous and tough all at once."
"And you, my dear, are a shimmering vision in gold. Ready to do this thing?"
"No. Yes. No. It really is time, isn't it? I mean all those young queer kids out there are relying on me. Us. Right?"
"Yes, Rachel."