2.

"I don't know Nigel. I don't feel like doing it tonight. I'm tired and honestly watching all the famous, beautiful people, parade down the red carpet and making snarky comments about their lack of style and fashion sense, has lost it appeal in the last couple of years."

Nigel narrowed his eyes and shook his head knowingly. They were sitting in Miranda's office and he was trying to convince her to follow their thousand year's old tradition of watching the Oscar gala and making fun of the celebrities' bad taste of clothes, or just the opposite, when someone had a hit, while drinking shamelessly expensive scotch. Miranda seemed unwilling and it was not a surprise for Nigel.

"Last couple of years? Really Miranda. You know it better. Three years. Three years, since Six left you in the middle of Fashion Week in Paris. Three years and you have not been the same since. That girl changed you. You miss her and not on a professional level. You do have feelings for her don't you."

"Enough Nigel!"

Miranda Priestly shot her scariest glare at Nigel. His words hit a sensitive spot and she was not in the mood to discuss something that she had not even admitted to herself. Yes, she was missing her Andrea dearly. Wait…what…her Andrea? When did she become her Andrea? She tiredly rubbed her eyes and rested her chin on her clutched hands.

"Please Nigel, just drop it."

Nigel walked toward the door and opened it. He turned back and gave Miranda a warm smile.

"You can pretend that you have no idea what I'm talking about, but I can see through you Miranda. I'll be at the townhouse tonight by the time the gala starts and I'll bring the scotch. Oh and don't worry about your image, others still think that you are a demanding, frigid bitch, with no human feelings at all!"

With that Nigel rushed out of the door, leaving an astonished Miranda in her office.