A pair of vibrant yellow heels stuck outside of the limousine on the steps of an elegant townhouse, followed by long, lean, tan legs. Then, just when the paparazzi couldn't get any crazier, a lovely woman followed. Her tight, knee-length dress was perfect, and accentuated her best feature – her legs. Her long chestnut hair was straightened to perfection, and hung down her back. Her brown eyes were lined perfectly, and her lips were a pale pink. Her cheeks were pink, too, but everyone knew that wasn't the work of any make up artist – it was something she did when she was nervous, upset, embarrassed…well, any time, really.
She stood outside the car for a few moments, allowing pictures to be taken. She did not, however, say a word. The yellow clutch she was gripping tightly was the only sign that she was upset, but her grip loosened when a small, lithe little figure emerged from the other side of the car. Some words were said, and the figure danced away, her short, spiky, ink black hair disappearing into the crowd.
After a couple more minutes, the brunette made her way up toward the lavish townhouse. At the top of the stairs, she unlocked and opened the door, slipping inside. Moments later, the spiky-haired girl followed. As the paparazzi dispersed, they were able to catch occasional glimpses of the girl, sitting on a sofa in a front room. The curtains were drawn, but the light in the house made it easy to see silhouettes. The pixie-like girl was fluttering about the edges of the scene, as if nervous. Across from the girl sat a man about her age, but who he was wasn't discernable. Everyone had guesses, of course, but none knew his real identity.
Inside the home, the brunette shot up from her chair and stomped away. There was yelling, and a struggle. Finally, though, .she calmed down and walked up the stairs. The shorter girl paced in front of the window, making a call. Shortly after, a tall, leggy blonde ran up in shorts and a tank top. Looking around, she let herself in.
"Well. If Rose has been summoned, when do you suppose we should–" A ringing phone cut off a big man in black. His curly black hair was under a black hat, and his big muscles were shown off by a black t-shirt. Next to him, a smaller blond man answered the phone. His outfit consisted of an old band t-shirt and black jeans similar to the ones on his friend.
"The flowers have been delivered."
"We saw the delivery boy."
The strange conversation ended, and both men sat on the roof, looking down at the townhouse below them.
"Let's go," the blond said, standing up. Carefully, both packed up and walked down to the street. Looking around, the big man walked by first, standing on the landing. Three and a half minutes later, the blond followed with military precision.
Both stood there, waiting. They weren't allowed in of their own accord.
"So," the big man said, looking around. "What do you suppose Princess Bella is upset about this time?"