Break My Pride

by roseandfoxes

At age nineteen, Prince Julian Schreave was supposed to have a Selection, but was involved in a deadly accident. At age twenty, just over a year later, Julian, now blind, and emotionally scarred from what happened, is again holding a Selection. Julian is now sarcastic and bitter, and doesn't know who to trust: especially when a saboteur could be among his staff. SYOC Closed :)

20. And The Little World He Lives In

Not a Juli chapter, it's time for some Report interviews and to meet some more ladies!

Quick note: When Francesa's list comes up, the words written in italics are Francesa's inner thoughts she wrote down next to her actual list. Just so no one gets confused by the extra commentary!

This chapter also gets a bit political, talking about very liberal issues and ideologies, so beware of all that, in case political talk makes you a bit uncomfy.

Enjoy! :D

"Good evening, Illéa!" Francesa Leonardo croons in her 'Report' voice. Admittedly, it's not much different from her everyday, 'I'm here and absolutely amazing!' voice, but it's a little more professional, and more bouncy – a punch to get the viewers involved and listening. "I'm your faithful host of the Report, Francesa Leonardo, reporting live from Prince Julian's Welcoming Ball on the first official day of his Selection!"

Francesa watches as the camera moves his finger, pulling back the camera's view to get a wide shot of where she is. "Tonight will be full of juicy moments – eager touches, bashful smiles, and maybe even a cat fight or two! We'll be getting all of that and more, including some 'curb-side', if you will, interviews with some of Prince Julian's Selected." Francesa ends her intro with a wide smile, feeling it stretch across her face naturally, pumped up by the adrenaline she always feels in front of the camera, and boosted by the powerful, almost cloying sense of excitement permeating the ballroom.

Reid the cameraman's left hand goes up and comes swinging back down to signal the 'cut' of the filming.

Francesa's smile drops slowly as she shrugs her shoulders back and releases a deep breath. Even after almost twelve years of being on camera, she still gets nervous, not that anyone would be able to tell of course, Francesa is a master of reigning in her emotions...for better or worse. "Alright, Reid, look that over, will you? Make sure it's all well and good before we continue. I'm going to go scope out some women to interview first."

Reid, a tall and handsome lanky man with dark skin and a killer smile, when he chooses to show it...which is never, simply nods his response to Francesa and gets right to work. It's something in Reid Francesa greatly admires, actually, Francesa just likes Reed as a whole, being honest. He's always silent, keeps his nose to the ground and gets his work done without a complaint or an eye-roll in sight. Reid is ready-to-work and wholly capable of doing an exquisite job each and every time and, more than anything, Reid is quiet. Mute by choice and happy to be that way.

Francesa Leonardo is all talk, and when she's at work, she needs someone who will listen to her and actually hear what she's saying, not just wait until they get their turn to talk. Francesa isn't naive, alright, she knows her flaws, (the very, very few of them, thank you very much!), and one of them is always needing to be the center of attention. And Francesa gets that with Reid as her cameraman – there's no competition for the spotlight or straining to be heard with him. There's mutual respect, admiration, tons and tons of stale coffee and late nights, and a secret love of Twunkies. There's a soft clearing of a throat, taking Francesa out of her thoughts, but it's just Reid nodding and giving her a thumbs up.

Francesa grins, waggling her eyebrows a bit. "What do you think, Reid? Did I look ravishing as ever?"

Reid pins her with a Look.

Francesa rolls her eyes. "Goodness, Reid, I wish you would at least pretend to play along with me." She huffs with a put-upon pout.

If it's even possible, Reid looks even more unimpressed with Francesa and her ploy to get compliments.

"Alright, alright." She concedes. "Did I look okay, though?"

Reid considers this, looking at Francesa with a critical, but not unkind eye, before gesturing to the top of his hair, indicating Francesa's hair, since Reid's has been shaved since the day Francesa met him.

It takes everything in Francesa not to grab her hair in a panic. "What's wrong with it? Is it messy or on fire?" Her eyes widen dramatically, and Francesa feels a pit in the bottom of her stomach start to form. "No, Reid...don't tell me...is my hair...frizzy?" Francesa spits out the word in a hushed, horrified whisper. She'd rather her hair be on fire than for it to be frizzy – really.

Reid shakes his head, but doesn't offer Francesa anymore than that, instead electing to turn away from her and fiddle with his camera again.

Francesa's cheeks puff out in frustration and she rolls her eyes, just barely stopping herself from stomping her foot on the ground in defeat. "Fine. I'm going to go fix myself in the restroom, since my cretin of a cameraman won't help his wonderful, gracious, and gorgeous co-worker out!"

In a flurry, Francesa turns on her baby pink heels and walks away from the entrance of the ballroom, hearing the beautiful music fade behind her as she walks down the hallway, trying to calm herself down from everything, really. In all honesty, the night has been nothing short of a mild disaster, from Prince Julian's impromptu speech, the amount of time that Francesa had to spend with him and her 'family' (Alright, so she didn't mind being with them all that much, okay?), to dealing with Leonard and watching every Selected flock to him like a beacon of light and happiness and good l – you know what? Not even worth going down that avenue of thought right now.

Francesa lets out a quiet sigh as she turns down another long, winding hallway, trying to find her way to the should-be vacant Women's Room. With all of that, Francesa is way behind schedule with everything she had set out to do tonight. In fact, it was supposed to go as follows:

Do her wonderful introduction – And it will be, have faith!

Interview the King and Queen after Prince Julian's speech to get their thoughts on it and his Selection and the Selected girls as a whole. – Yes, Francesa, you have to talk to the Queen, just...I don't know, imagine her in her expensive underwear! Oh my, I bet her lingerie is incredible...God, I need new panties.

Film and commentate Prince Julian's first dance. – Who will it be? Maybe Ophelia or Evie, possibly Lexine, or a wild card girl, like Zeniba or Saskia.

Interview some Selected women – It doesn't matter who exactly, but preferably some of the quieter ones, Violet, Belia, Sylvaine(?) Ugh. No, no, Francesa, stay positive!

Film some more dances. – As many as you can get and comment on them as you go. Remember, Fran, body language, smiles, contact, etc. Anything that could signal a connection or lack thereof!

Interview Prince Connie and Princess Lou for their thoughts and feelings on the Selection. – Stay civil, Francesa. Princess Lou will be on camera so she can't be too snarky, and the Prince will be outrageous as usual, but he can't moon over Kieran on camera, lest the Princess of France sees, so he might be a bit more tolerable than usual.

More interviews. – Perhaps one of the children? It wouldn't be very beneficial to the coverage of the Selection, but everyone likes a bit of a fluffy story. Besides, it could paint the palace and the royals in a better light.

Film the outro. – Beautiful and classy, much like yourself, Francesa!

Drink. – Drink. (Insert a crudely drawn wine glass here)

And yet the night so far hasn't gone like that at all! Her intro had to be filmed after Prince Julian's first dance, (And with Talullah, who would have thought!), and she almost scrapped his speech, but she and Phillip ultimately decided it could stay, but that deliberation ate up precious time! She didn't get to interview the King and Queen, and, as always, the women Francesa was interested in filming were too busy fawning over Leo than to pay attention to her. Francesa is relieved when she sees the wide, double-doors of the Women's Room, and lets herself into the quiet, dark room. Thanks to the soft glow of the moonlight, she can see faint impressions of the furniture around her, and Francesa decides to navigate the darkness rather than turn on the lights.

Francesa makes her way through the darkened room and nods her head definitively. Yes, this is better – wading through darkness than letting someone know she's in here. Francesa doesn't need anyone knowing she needs a break from the hustle and bustle of the Welcoming Ball, alright? Francesa's whole public image is expensive parties, dancing in moonlight, losing herself in crowds of people, and while it isn't necessarily wrong, Francesa, believe it or not, is human, and she needs a break as well. Francesa opens the bathroom door, surprised to find the light on, but bypasses the little powder room off to the side and heads straight to the mirror and sinks to truly take a look at herself, the first since the Welcoming Ball started.

The way Reid was gesturing, Francesa is expecting a rat's nest on top of her head, or, at the very least, a couple of wayward strands or maybe some static, but instead, Francesa's immaculate reflection stares back at her with nary a hair out-of-place. In fact, Francesa can hardly see a difference in her outward appearance since when she got ready well over two hours ago. Her blonde hair is neatly straightened, without a single hair even the slightest bit wavy, and her makeup – dark eyes and a light pink lip with some blush isn't smudged in the least or running at all. Even her outfit, which Francesa absolutely adores, is as pressed and neat as it was before. Sure, Francesa could have gone for a pretty, but run-of-the-mill floral dress like almost every other woman at the ball, but she instead opted for a pant suit, one that would automatically scream, Francesa Leonardo.

The jacket is long, reaching well past Francesa's lovely rump, (no matter what the Princess says, Francesa's ass is glorious!), and fits her like a dream. It's a pure, bright wide covered in large, peach colored roses and mossy green leaves, giving a soft, but also powerful look to her. The pants are exactly the same as the jacket, and they're wide-cut, giving a swish to Francesa's movements that a dress would have provided and pink heels. However, Francesa's favorite part of the whole outfit is the soft, pure white buttoned camisole she's wearing underneath her unbuttoned jacket. It's cut just above where her cleavage starts, giving her some sense of modesty, but shows a large portion of her upper chest and collarbones.

Classy with a little edge of sexy. Classic Francesa Leonardo.

So yes, with all that in mind, Francesa looks wonderful, as always, of course, but then...then she takes a deep breath and allows herself to look at the mirror properly and see exactly what Reid was asking her to see and...Francesa is frazzled and nervous, maybe even a little scared. To the casual onlooker, Francesa looks as poised, confident, and put-together as always, but if you look a little closer, with a keen eye, or, if you're someone who's worked with Francesa for the better part of nine years, you would be able to see the clear signs of Francesa's distress. Her chest is rapidly rising and falling, her (Naturally! No matter what those horrid tabloids say!) plump lips are pulled into a thin line, and her naturally tan skin is paled slightly, with tiny beads of sweat at the top of her hair line.

Francesa grabs a paper towel and gently dabs her forehead, shaking her head with her lips pulled into a resigned frown. "Dammit, Reid." She mutters lowly, her voice sounding tired and loud in the eerie quietness of the bathroom. Francesa hates being like this – off kilter, off-schedule and wholly unprepared. She does much better with an itinerary, an idea of what she wants to do and how to do it and when one thing goes wrong, well... "Dammit." She curses again.

There's a soft clearing of a throat, sending Francesa jumping quite inelegantly into the air by a couple of feet. Her head shoots up and she meets curious blue eyes, drinking Francesa in, but not in a judgmental way. "Are you alright, Francesa?" She asks in a low voice, somehow comforting and yet airy all-at-once.

Francesa straightens herself up the best she can, tugging down on her jacket and nodding. "Of course, darling, I'm never anything but alright. I'm excellent, actually!"

This earns her a dubious look. "You've got a paper towel stuck in your blouse." The other woman points out.

Francesa's cheeks redden as she looks down, and, sure enough, sees her used paper towel sticking out of her camisole, most likely having flown from her flailing hands and landed their in her moment of fear. "Well, that's the newest fashion, Miss Belia."

Belia doesn't look surprised that Francesa knows her name, but she does look pleased. "You pull it off wonderfully." Belia says with a gentle smile.

There's something immediately calming about Belia that allows Francesa to let out a quiet breath and dislodges the paper towel from where it's stuck in her bosom and tosses it lightly into the garbage can at the bottom edge of the sink. "There's no need to pity me, I know I look a mess."

"I'm not judging you at all, and certainly not pitying you." Belia answers honestly, an earnest look on her pretty features. "But you do look a little frazzled, being honest."

Francesa lets out a bitter chuckle. "So a mess."

"Francesa Leonardo – a mess?" Belia asks, with a teasing lilt in her voice, "Never. But a little more disheveled than usual? Yes."

Francesa settles herself a bit casually against the sink behind her, though she's still standing very straight for anyone else's standards. "But still beautiful, yes?"

Belia doesn't miss a beat, still smiling in that kind, serene way. "Yes."

After that, Belia leans gently against the wall and offers Francesa another smile, but doesn't say anything else and lets a comfortable silence stretch between them. It seems that Belia is used to silence or she just likes it a lot, as she closes her eyes and simply takes in the air. Francesa takes this as a moment to look at Belia plainly, without any preambles, just to look at a girl who is away from the Welcoming Ball (Why? Could she be – wait no, focus, Fran! Just look at her. No theories, not yet!) and see what she offers. Being honest, when her and the rest of the Bear Family were looking at the forms, Belia was simultaneously a girl she was interested and bored (for lack of a better word) by.

Belia is beautiful in a natural way, even if she has the tiniest bit of makeup on – some light mascara and highlighter – mostly boosted by smooth, fair skin and bright eyes. It's a beauty that's disarming in a way; not too beautiful like Gigi or Inés, where someone could be intimidated, but a beauty that's understated and pulls you in. Belia's blonde hair is gently pulled into a low bun at the base of her neck with a few darkened strands of hair framing her face and drawing attention to her eyes. And Belia's dress...well...alright, it's a little too 'younger-sister-of-the-bride-who-didn't-get-chosen-as-a-bridesmaid-or-a-flower-girl' for Francesa's tastes, a little too Sidney-Princess, but it works for Belia.

It's a light blush pink color, sweet as bubblegum, and is a light material, one that swishes with every slight motion Belia makes. The sleeves are ruffled but short, ending a few inches below Belia's shoulders and moving into her neckline, which reminds Francesa of a heart, from the way it divets in and shows the barest hint of cleavage. The dress itself reaches all the way down to the floor and wouldn't have much to a shape to it if it weren't for the flower-belt(?) cinching in Belia's waist. The flowers are bright oranges and yellows and continue down the dress before ending at the hem of her dress with a huge 'garden' of flowers at the bottom of her dress in purples and pinks, too. Her shoes are hidden, but Francesa hopes Belia is wearing a pretty pair of heels to complete the look. Again, it's not what Francesa would have chosen to wear, but it fits Belia – gives her a serene, sweet look.

Francesa's eyes leave the bottom of Belia's dress and travel up, just to see the young woman staring back at Francesa not expectantly, but curiously again, as if she's letting Francesa make the first move. It's not calculating, actually, it's a little polite on Belia's part since she can obviously tell Francesa is not herself and needs to regain control. Francesa clears her throat, trying to play off being caught staring. "So what are you doing in here, Belia, you've got a Welcoming Ball to intend!" Francesa gives her a critical look. "Are you shy, perhaps?"

No, that's not right, is it? Belia is quiet, sure, but she's been able to look Francesa clear in the eye this whole time, something most people can't do. Francesa knows shy – Evangeline Morse is shy, barely able to maintain eye contact with anyone, but not Belia. "No, I guess I needed a breather for a second."

Francesa waits for more of an explanation, but when it's clear there's no more for Belia to add, she lets out a scoff. "I thought a grand ball like this would be every girl's dream, no?"

Belia considers this for a moment, cocking her head to the side, as if she's seriously weighing her words – every consonant and syllable, before saying them. That's something people need more of nowadays, (Yes, Francesa knows she's one of those people, whatever!), to think before they speak, so she's glad to see Belia taking that seriously. "Sure, as a dream." Belia finally says.

"So you hate the reality of it, then?" Francesa asks, naturally slipping into her interrogative voice – not challenging, but questioning.

"I wouldn't say hate, but reality is much different than dreams." Belia pauses, and looks off somewhere past Francesa, her eyes going a little glassy. "More overwhelming."

Francesa finds herself softening at the quietness of Belia's voice. "Sensory overload, perhaps?"

Belia's silent for a few seconds more, before she seems to remember herself, and her blue eyes focus back onto Francesa looking as intelligent and shrewd as ever. "Perhaps."

"My, my, how profound." Francesa drawls.

Belia doesn't look put-out by Francesa's sarcasm, amused more than anything, and again, Francesa feels herself relaxing in the young woman's presence. "And you?"

"Am I profound, darling?" Francesa pretends to ponder the rhetorical question. "Well, I suppose I could add that to my list of many outstanding attributes, but I've never really been called that before."

It's interesting, isn't it? Where most people, (Cough, the Princess, cough, cough), would have interrupted Francesa during her diatribe, Belia let Francesa carry on in a way people rarely allow her to. The only other person who actually listens to Francesa speak the whole way through is Reid, and Francesa suspects that has to be because she's his boss. "Actually, I was asking why you were in here." Belia says.

Francesa sighs and looks away from Belia, unsure of how to answer that without making herself sound weak. Would Belia judge Francesa as use this conversation as blackmail to speak highly of her on the Report, or maybe Belia would even go to a different news outlet like a tabloid of some sorts and tell them all of Francesa's dirty secrets. Or maybe Belia would act supportive here and then as soon as she left to return to the ball, she would go and gossip to any of the other Selected girls who cared to listen.

She steals a glance at Belia who's staring off again, the same faraway look she had earlier on her face. Or maybe Belia genuinely wants to know and cares, which would be nice, of course, but highly unlikely. Francesa would never call herself suspicious, but she has to be cautious around people, after all, her whole job is pry and report on the juicy secrets of others, so it's not far-fetched to be a bit cautious around others herself. Still...Belia doesn't strike her as the overly caring type nor the type that would sell someone out for money or otherwise. Most likely, Belia's asking to delay her inevitable trip back to the ballroom, and so she could hear Francesa talk and she wouldn't have to.

Well, far be it for Francesa not to talk and to not talk about herself! Francesa lets out a long sigh, gaining Belia's attention again. "If you must know, darling, I came here under false pretenses." Francesa starts, running an absent hand through her silky hair. "My cameraman told me my hair was messed up so I had to come here and check! And it isn't by the way, it looks as wonderful as ever." Francesa pauses and shoots Belia an expectant look. "Right?"

Belia doesn't look intimidated or impressed much by the look, but she nods, humoring Francesa. "Right."

"But when I came in here...well, I guess I realized how much tonight isn't going my way or according to schedule. There's no semblance of control whatsoever and I hate feeling out of control." Francesa confesses to...well the floor, actually, since she can't make herself look at Belia and see whatever look might be on the other woman's face. Her green eyes trace the marbled tiles as she continues on. "As you know, I'm a highly organized person and I'm always on top of things, how could I not be with the amazing life I live? So to have it all get away from me tonight on such a big occasion..." Francesa trails off, not unsure of how to end it, but afraid of saying it aloud.

"What went wrong?" Belia asks quietly, her voice nothing but patient.

"Everything!" Francesa exclaims with a helpless shrug. "I had a plan and it's all gone to hell in a designer hand basket. I will not use a hand basket that isn't designer." Belia nods her understanding, so Francesa continues. "I shot the intro after the first dance, I haven't filmed a single interview, and to top it off, Leo is -" Francesa cuts herself off, feeling herself teetering into dangerous territory. Though Belia is proving to be mellow and easy to talk to, Francesa is not quite ready to pour her heart out to her just yet. "It's all just dumb. Everything is dumb." Francesa finishes lamely, not unlike a child.

Belia doesn't ask about Leo, and Francesa is grateful for it, instead, she shoots Francesa a sympathetic smile without a trace of pity in sight. "Do you have to go by a schedule?"

Francesa blinks, thinking about it for a moment. "Well no, not technically, but it certainly makes everything easier." Belia simply gives Francesa a look that says, but not this time, and like, Belia's right, okay, but this is one of the biggest events Francesa has ever had to cover in her career and sticking to a schedule would have been nice! "I've always had an idea of what I want to do when I cover something to a grand scale, so I figured it would work out this time as well."

"And maybe that sabotaged you in the long run?" Belia suggests.

Francesa frowns at the suggestion. "What?"

"By holding yourself to such a high standard and to a strict schedule, maybe you psyched yourself out this time by trying to stick to a schedule at an event that may not need it."

Francesa bristles. "Oh, have you become an expert in how I handle my job?"

Belia looks a little taken aback, but not hurt. "You asked -"

"I did not ask." Francesa snaps. "You asked and I answered but I didn't ask for your opinion or advice then and I'm certainly not asking for it now."

There's a caustic edge to the air between them, thick with tension, but Belia simply lowers her eyes and nods her understanding. There's no tension or hurt in Belia's body, no animosity or regret for talking to Francesa in the first place, only confusion, as if she's trying to figure out what she did wrong. And dammit, Belia didn't do anything wrong, did she? Francesa looks down at her pink nails, rubbing at them with her other hand, feeling awkward and ashamed. No, Belia was only offering a listening ear and a warm smile and Francesa did what she does best – she took advantage of it and as soon as she heard something she didn't like, she lashed out and yelled at someone who was trying to help her.

Francesa shifts on her heels, trying to find the best way to apologize, or to, at the very least, move past the unpleasantness of their exchange now. She and Belia both need to go back to the ball and they need clear heads for it and positive attitudes. And more than that, Francesa thinks, as she tries to straighten herself up, she wouldn't forgive herself if Belia was anything less than happy, comfortable, and herself at the party because of her little tiff with Francesa. Francesa takes a deep breath. Here we go, apologize nice and easy.

"I'm sorry for ruining your night, dear!" "I'm sorry for overstepping my bounds."

Francesa and Belia blink as they speak at the same time, before a laugh bubbles from Francesa before she can help it. Belia joins her, her laugh a quiet, but sweet thing, sounding surprised herself.

When the laughter dies down, Francesa swoops in to speak first, knowing if she lets Belia take the lead, she'll lose her nerve and won't want to try again. "I'm sorry for yelling, Belia, you have a good point, I'm just not good at taking advice, I suppose. It feels like an attack on me, I suppose, especially if it has anything to do with my job. Then it feels personal."

Belia nods in complete and total understanding. "I get it. I wasn't trying to tell you what to do or anything, I just thought I would try and help."

"And maybe you're right." Francesa sighs. "Maybe I was trying too hard to format this into a schedule when I should have let loose a little bit."

Belia gives Francesa a small smile. It's not tentative or asking permission, but it's a little hesitant, as if she's going to give some advice again. Francesa gives her a slight nod, letting her know it's okay. "This is a Welcoming Ball, right?"

Francesa nods slowly, not really sure where Belia is going with this. "Yes, dear."

"Right, and it's supposed to be a fun, exciting occasion..." Belia trails off, giving Francesa a meaningful look and Francesa tries not to sigh, once she realizes what Belia is trying to say.

"Belia..." Francesa protests with a bit of a whine, but Belia still has that encouraging look on her face, and it's hard for Francesa to turn her nose at that, alright? "It's supposed to be a fun occasion and I was taking it too seriously when I should have just gone with the slow and had fun, right?"

Belia grins and Francesa tries not to feel proud when she comes to that conclusion, and with approval, too. And Belia's right, isn't she? The Welcoming Ball is a welcome to everyone, not just to the Selected women. It's for the staff to get used to their newly assigned duties, the royals and the Selected to meet and mingle, and for Francesa to learn how to navigate such a new situation. And instead of finding a format that works for something as unique and different as the Selection, Francesa tried to box it into the same schedule she always uses and it failed her.

As proven time and time again, Prince Julian is unsure of what he's doing and his place as the prince ever since his accident, and he will make missteps along the way during his Selection, and Francesa should have been prepared for that, but she wasn't. She let one tiny mishap derail her whole night and instead of regaining control quickly like she always does, she let it take control over her. It's times like this that the fiercely independent Francesa is happy for people like Reid in her life, who recognize when she's slipping and need a moment...and people like Belia, who offer her comfort and a helping hand.

Francesa pushes herself away from the sink and turns to the mirror, trying to hide herself away from Belia. "You're right, darling, and take that as a massive compliment, because other people besides me are rarely right!" There's a pause. "And that's not to say I'm wrong in this situation, of course!"

Belia makes a confirming noise. "Of course."

Francesa sighs softly, letting her head drop for a moment. "But...thank you, Belia, for listening to me and giving me some sound advice. I know I like to pretend I'm perfect at all times, and I am, of course, but sometimes I take on too much and I hate to ask for help." Francesa grips the sink tightly, watching her knuckles turn a lily white, before she turns around quickly to catch Belia's eyes. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure." Belia says softly with a bright smile.

There's a comfortable pause between the two of them, before Francesa makes a show of checking her phone to see the time. "My, my, darling! As much as I'm loving this heart-to-heart we're having, we should probably head back to the ball."

Belia nods. "You go ahead, I need to gather myself a little bit before I go back. It's...louder in there than I thought it would be."

Francesa's not sure how much she believes that excuse, but she nods anyway, because she needs to get back to the ball as quickly as possible to get at least a few interviews in before the night ends. "Alright, dear, but don't take too long, you wouldn't want to miss all the fun!" Belia simply gives Francesa another smile and Francesa walks out of the Women's Room bathroom feeling lighter than she has in a while.

My, it's a wonder what a genuinely caring person and good conversation will do for you and your overall mood! As Francesa leaves the Women's Room, she notes the lights are still off, making her wonder if Belia had the same idea she had earlier. Great minds think alike and all that, she supposes. Francesa feels as though there's been a weight lifted off her shoulders now as she walks back to the ballroom faster and lighter than she had walking down the halls earlier. Sure, Belia didn't make everything better with a band-aid and a warm glass of milk, but she provided Francesa with a new perspective and a distraction from her frustration. While Reid noticed Francesa's stress before even she did, Belia was the one that truly gave her comfort. Hmmm...there's a metaphor in there somewhere, right?

Reid is the ship, but Belia was the anchor?

Reid captained the boat, but Belia was the calming seas?

Something like that.

In any case, Francesa thinks, as she turns back to the entrance of the ballroom, the music growing louder and louder, she feels better and more prepared to be less prepared...okay, she's ready to just let the night play out the way it will. Instead of trying to force people to be where Francesa needs them to be or wanting people to say what she wants them to say, she has to let up on the reins a bit and let the night go the way it will. Francesa walks back over to where Reid is dutifully waiting for her, his back turned to where his equipment is, most likely playing back the footage they have so far. Francesa grins and hops up onto her tip-toes (Not everyone can do this and in heels, no less!), and quietly creeps behind Reid, raising her left hand to attack his shoulder.

Reid's hand catches hers before it can land on his shoulder and he swivels around giving her a decidedly unimpressed look with one eyebrow raised.

Francesa rolls her eyes with a mock-pout. "You never let me scare you, Reid. Most people would at least give me a pity scare!"

He squeezes Francesa's hand still in his meaningfully, both eyebrows raising now, and Francesa is glad she can read him so easily. At the beginning of their working-relationship, it was so hard to make heads or tails of Reid's facial expressions and body language as a whole. In fact, the first year was entirely miserable, since Francesa couldn't figure out how to properly communicate with Reid and was basically talking to a brick wall. Yet one day, Francesa was able to make out what a quirk of an eyebrow meant or the uptick of his mouth. She began to realize was Reid was saying to her without him ever having to actually speak and valued him not only as a hard worker, but someone who wouldn't deal with Francesa's bullshit and could be a sarcastic jerk when he really wanted to be.

And right now, Reid was saying, Francesa, you'd hate it if I gave you a pity scare.

Francesa shrugs slightly. "One of these days, Reid, I promise I will scare you." Instead of replying, Reid takes a moment to look at Francesa up and down, drinking her in since the last time he saw her. Francesa wonders if it's apparent how much more relaxed she is compared to before visibly as it is for her feeling it. Her shoulders are slumped down a bit, her back not quite as rigid, her breathing slowed, and feeling just a bit more playful than before. The regular flirty yet unattainable side of Francesa was coming back out, and Francesa felt better again. Still, Reid needed to stop staring at her, dammit! There was something about his stare that made Francesa simultaneously comfortable and on-edge. It was as if Reid could tear her open and peek inside before patching her back up with just one look – make her feel exposed and vulnerable and it was a scary and exhilarating feeling all at once.

Francesa hadn't realized they were still holding hands until Reid squeezed it again, gently, with a soft smile; a relieved smile, an approving smile. Reid wouldn't bug her as to how she made herself feel better, because she knows he's just happy she feels better at all. Still, there's something burning in Francesa to give Belia credit. If not to give her credit, then to at least show that Francesa can have a decent conversation with people outside of work, since so many people seem to doubt her.

Or both. Definitely both.

"I'm all better now, hun, as you can see." Francesa announces, kicking up her left foot with a flourish. "I was...not on top of my game earlier, which is very, very rare, as you know, so I went to freshen up in the bathroom. Mostly because somebody told me my hair was a mess!"

Reid only grins proudly at the accusation.

"My hair looked spectacular as ever, and it still does, thank you very much." Francesa sniffs. Reid pins Francesa with a stare that says, Get on with it, Fran, and at the stare, Francesa feels her face heat up and she looks away when she confesses, "However, I wasn't doing well. I was frazzled and messy and...scared, I suppose. Anyway, long story short, there was a Selected in there, Belia Sitara who helped me put things in perspective."

Reid looks surprised for a moment, before his face morphs into something more dubious.

Francesa rolls her eyes. "And yes, since you're so concerned, I'll have you know I listened to her and I'm happy I did, and now I'm feeling better and I'm back to being my amazing, flawless self and I want to hop right back into work, so there." Francesa shifts her focus away from Reid again, feeling her cheeks light up again, more from anger and frustration than embarrassment. Francesa knows she's a difficult person, okay, no one worth anything is super easygoing anyway, but for everyone around her to doubt her ability to carry on normal conversations and be able to take advice is annoying and a bit disheartening, to say the least. Granted, Francesa did lash out at Belia for giving her advice, but Francesa apologized and she's taking it now, so there! Character growth or whatever. Francesa wants to walk away from Reid, but a squeeze to their attached hands, (Jesus, still?), and a warm hand on her shoulder stops her.

Francesa looks back to Reid whose brown eyes are warm and has a gentle, inviting smile on his face, and more than that, he looks proud, not surprised or impressed that Francesa could do such a thing, but proud that she did at all, as if he knew she could if she really wanted to. Francesa's skin starts to feel itchy under such a soft look, and her face feels warm, so she snatches her hand away and rolls her eyes.

"Don't get all mushy on me, Reid! I need a cameraman by my side, not a gummy-bear." Francesa says, walking away from him. Her powerful strides have her heels clicking loudly on the floor as they walk to the doors of the ballroom. Francesa turns back to level a look at Reid, glad to see his usual stoic and ready-to-work look back on his face. "Alright, hun, I'm just going to go in there and find some ladies to interview, it doesn't matter who. So keep the camera on me and the girls and let's have some fun, right?"

Reid snorts.

Francesa grins triumphantly. "Yes! Let's go!"

She opens the doors to the ballroom and is once again greeted by the grandness of everything around her. The chandeliers, the warm glow of the candles and yellowing candles, and the hustle and bustle around her. In the room, she can spot several contenders that would make for a good first interview candidate among the Selected women. Of course, she could go for the obvious choice and talk to Talullah after she had the first dance with Prince Julian, or head for an upper caste girl, like Evie or Violet. Or, Francesa thinks, eyes still scouring the ballroom, she could go for a more controversial choice, like Sylvaine or Saskia, and rustle some feathers right of the bat. Those would be great for rat-

You know what? No.

Francesa is trying to look at all this in a more relaxed way, right? Instead of worrying about ratings and public appeal, Francesa should look at this from a simple reporter's point of view. Who will have the most interesting first chat? Who does Francesa want to interview? And the answer comes clearly in a shorter girl with long, dark hair and warm skin, wearing a hat in the ballroom, and, surprisingly, it actually works quite well with her outfit. Francesa starts moving forward, where the young woman stands at the outskirts of the ballroom floor, watching the others dancing around her with a curious, attentive look on her face. Francesa spares a glance behind her, catching Reid's dark eyes.

"Go ahead and start filming, and we'll cut everything right before I start talking, alright?"

Reid nods his assent, and Francesa is off, walking toward Miss Zeniba Ritter with excitement buzzing underneath her skin. Zeniba is an active and interesting young woman, from her eclectic style to her social activism, and Francesa knows some people might view her as an odd first choice, but Francesa is confident their talk will be interesting and informative. The most striking thing about Zeniba's outfit of choice is the aforementioned wide-brimmed black hat she's wearing that matches the mostly black dress she has on.

Her look as a whole is decidedly more casual than some of the other gowns in the room, but, oddly enough, it seems dressy for Zeniba herself. The sleeves are a sheer black material covered in round silver bobbles and dark yellow sunflowers. The neckline is a soft v-shape and is mostly covered by a long silver necklace with a sun pendant hanging at the end, giving Zeniba a bohemian sort of vibe. The body of the dress is black, but toward the bottom are large printed sunflowers, same as on her sleeves, and lilies, too. To top it all off (Or, more accurately, bottom it all off), Zeniba is wearing black boots, instead of heels.

It's an entirely different look from what everyone else is wearing, but it's simple and confident, as if to say, 'this is who I am, and this is what I wear' and Francesa greatly admires that. Zeniba's hair is thrown into a neat low ponytail that reaches the small of her back and not a single stitch of makeup, yet her skin is practically flawless and glowing underneath the lights of the ballroom. Zeniba, of course, being deaf, doesn't hear Francesa and Reid approaching her, so Francesa makes sure to move over into Zeniba's direct line of sight, so the young woman can see her coming. Francesa gives Zeniba a wave which is returned a little hesitantly, not due to any apparent shyness, more so confusion, and Francesa takes that as her cue.

She turns halfway back to Reid and smiles at the camera with her microphone grasped firmly and comfortably in her hand. "Hello, Illéa, and welcome back to the Report! I'm your loyal host Francesa Leonardo, here with our first Selected girl of the night, Miss Zeniba Ritter!" Francesa turns back to Zeniba expectantly, before realizing she wouldn't have heard anything Francesa said or have been able to read her lips, and her face flood with color at the mishap. "I just introduced you to the camera," Francesa whispers to Zeniba, making sure to carefully enunciate each word, hoping it was clear for Zeniba to lip-read, "so go ahead and introduce yourself, and I'm sorry for not warning you."

Zeniba gives her a nod and straights up, not seeming bothered in the least for being caught off-guard. Maybe Zeniba is used to it? Or maybe she simply doesn't care. "Good evening," Zeniba smiles at the camera, a wide, happy thing, "It's wonderful to talk to you, Francesa."

Francesa cheers inwardly. She knew Zeniba would be a natural in front of the camera – she has to be! After all, she's in front of it all the time since she's an activist and often gives interviews anyway. "How are you this evening, Zeniba? Are you enjoying the ball?"

"Please, you can call me Zen, if you want." Zeniba says. "It's easier to say than Zeniba, and I've been told it matches my personality."

It strikes Francesa that that very well may be true, from the easy way Zeniba was able to face the camera all-of-a-sudden with no warning. And, as an interview thing, what she did was very smart, giving the audience a piece of herself without revealing too much. A way to endear herself to them and give them something to remember her by. Was it calculated...Francesa can't really tell, but it impresses her nonetheless. "And have you been pretty zen tonight, then?" Francesa asks.

She can practically feel Reid rolling his eyes from behind the camera.

Zen nods. "I am. I've never been much of a person for big parties, so I'm sort of staying to the sidelines right now."

"Not a big partier?"

Zen shrugs. "I think there are more important things to do with my time rather than party." She answers amicably.

Aghhh. Francesa's kind of torn. There are so many ways she can spin that answer. Oh? So to the girls who like to party every night, are you saying that's a way of time? Or maybe even: So you have no plans of dancing tonight? What if Prince Julian asks you; will you shut him down? But instead, Francesa settles for: "Yes, you're quite well-known for your activism and political standings, Zen." Francesa says. She quarter-turns toward the camera, so she's addressing the audience, but is still showing Zen a lot of her face, so she can still read her lips. "For those of you who may not know, Zeniba Ritter is very vocal about things that are important to her! She's an outspoken advocate for equal rights and Indigenous Peoples' rights, as well as being a feminist and the gay community. So-"

"And for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women." Zeniba adds, not being pushy, but it's clearly important to her that the message gets out, so Francesa doesn't kick up a fuss for being interrupted by her.

"With all of that going on, plus being a singer, are you going to be wholly focused on the Selection, Zen?" Francesa asks, feeling genuinely curious. God, she loves her job. She literally gets to pry into people's lives for a living! Everyone knows that reporting is just elevated gossip.

Zen considers this, giving a pause, though not too long of a pause that makes her seem ill-prepared or indecisive. It makes her look considerate and intelligent, and once again, Francesa is very happy with her first choice of girl for the Report. "I think it would be silly to assume that any of us are focused on the Selection singularly."

Francesa raises an eyebrow. "But you're here to win Prince Julian and become the future Queen of Illéa. If I were you, my whole focus would be on him and him alone!"

Zen doesn't look deterred by Francesa's point. "I'm not saying I'm uninterested in pursuing Prince Julian, because I am, but all of us have other things to worry about, and I don't think that's such a bad thing." Zen pauses again, gathering her thoughts, yet still remaining engaging and poised in front of the camera. There's nothing inherently friendly or warm about Zeniba, but there is something a bit magnetic, that you simply can't look away from. "Some of us have jobs waiting, careers, school, family, and responsibilities. It's not that we're taken away from what we're doing here by worrying about the lives we left behind, I think it's completely natural."

Francesa hums, nodding a bit. "Well said." She smiles, but continues on quickly. "So, what are you thinking about back at home, then?"

"Well, my family, of course, Mama, Deydey – that's my father – and my little sister, Omakayas, but my causes as well. The need for representation and to fight doesn't go away simply because I'm here." Zeniba says firmly.

Francesa feels almost positively giddy when she finds another angle to work with this. "So if Prince Julian were to disagree with one of your causes, would that be the end of a potential relationship between you two?"

Zen doesn't hesitate. "Absolutely."

"Wow!" Francesa's eyebrows raise dramatically. "Just like that? Don't you think that could be a bit harsh? Leaving a romantic situation simply because of a disagreement?"

Zeniba shrugs. "Not when it comes to these beliefs. It would be different if he and I were to disagree about whether cats or dogs are better or if the color orange is a good color." Zeniba explains patiently. "What I believe in and what I fight for, these are human rights that directly affect people each and every day. Whether or not gay people deserve the same rights as others, or people demonizing other people simply because they decide to have an abortion. Or the injustice and erasure of Indigenous people and their rights. These are important issues and they lie heavily with me and would show me exactly what kind of person Prince Julian is, and if he disagrees with me on any of these issues, then he's showing a blatant disregard toward so many lives that I hold so dear. So I wouldn't find an issue with leaving him for that. Not at all."

Francesa is once again blown away not only by the conviction and finality in Zeniba's voice, but also in the eloquent and precise way she speaks. She lays it all out plainly and isn't looking to compromise with people over her views and it's frankly very admirable, especially to declare so loudly on national TV on a competition. Her voice itself is marked very lightly by her deafness, a little dull around her vowels and thudding into consonants, but overall, it's a firm, sure voice, one that holds a lot of confidence and self-assuredness.

Again, it makes Zeniba someone to watch out for, not only in the sense of being interviewed on the Report, but as a contender overall. Maybe she and Prince Julian will have a great connection. Their first meeting didn't really show that very much, but Prince Julian was pretty much riddled with nerves then, so it might not have much of a bearing on their relationship. But even if they don't, Francesa has a feeling Zeniba Ritter will become much more of a household name than it is now, in one way or another.

Francesa catches Reid's eyes and she knows it's about time to wrap up their interview with Zen. She and Reid agreed earlier about a five to seven minute interview with each girl, or as many as possible, will be more than sufficient for 'curb-side interviews' such as these. "Well that was certainly enlightening, Zen, and I'm sure our viewers will have a lot to think about after this."

Zen smiles with a small nod. "Then I was happy to help educate in any way I can." Francesa finds herself nodding along with Zen without meaning to, but honestly, there's something earnest about Zen and her mission that makes her easy and compelling to listen to. Is it n outward earnestness that can be seen from miles away? No, it's heard more than it's seen, passion coming forth in Zen's words, without it being too much or pushy, but it works.

"It was an absolute pleasure talking to you, Zen, and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your night." Francesa grins. She steps aside just a bit, to give Zen a wider birth in the camera and gestures to her. "Zeniba Ritter, everybody! Any final words to the public?"

"Thanks for listening."

It's a simple statement, and a little safe, in Francesa's opinion, but, she knows, there's a double meaning to it, coming from Zen. Thanks for watching her interview, and thanks for not clicking away when it got political. Thank you for listening to her speak about her causes and for understanding.

Francesa turns to Zen quickly, knowing she and Reid have a limited time to talk to her before they have to go find another girl, and she smiles honestly. "Thanks for being the first interview I had, Zen, you were fabulous, darling!"

Zen laughs softly. "Glad to help."

Francesa nods and reaches out to squeeze Zen's shoulder. "Before I go, you should really get out there and dance, darling! You're not going to make any connections staying on the outskirts like this." She advises with as gentle of a smile as she can muster.

"I'll think about it." Zen promises, and though Francesa doubts how truthful she's being, she has to run, so she takes that as a victory, and walks away, scanning the crowd for the next interview she can have.

The buzz she always has after a successful interview or report is starting underneath Francesa's skin and bubbling in her blood and she feels an eager smile on her face as she lets that excitement wash over her. Now that she feels somewhat back on track, Francesa is ready to continue giving interviews and getting out there. But who to do next? Francesa observes the crowd, watching as quite a few women are watching Prince Julian dance his second dance and he's dancing with – hmmm, well that's certainly an interesting choice, not who Francesa would have chosen, but whatever – but that means that girl is out of the question.

Francesa looks around curiously, wondering who could be the next good pick, but she decides after the calm of Zeniba, she needs someone a bit more exciting and bubbly, and...oh my...who is that with her? Francesa nudges her head in the direction of Briseis Diamandis and her companion to Reid, and she imagines he might have to jog to keep up with her lightning fast pace, but what a combo this is! Francesa is easily able to catch the attention of Briseis, who starts waving excitedly to her, and, apparently, can't wait to be interviewed and walks over to Francesa, instead of waiting where she was. It's a little endearing, actually, to see how excited she is, sort of like a new puppy.

"Keep her wave in the final cut, Reid," Francesa instructs, "it will add to her charm for the audience." Reid nods his assent, but their conversation is soon cut short.

"Hi, Francesa!" Briseis greets with a blinding, but happy smile. When she smiles, her nose wrinkles, bring more attention to her freckled face and dark eyes.

Francesa can't help but smile back, even though that much enthusiasm often deters her from talking to people like this for too long. Francesa appreciates loud, happy personalities as much as the next gal, but it can become quite tiresome after awhile. "Good evening. Everyone, this lovely Selected is Miss Briseis Diamandis."

Briseis drops into a clumsy curtsy that Reid has to quickly follow with his camera, before Briseis straightens back up, some of her hair flying wildly around her, due to the sudden movement. "Hello, everyone! I'm Briseis, but you can call me Bree, if you'd like! Well, I guess I wouldn't know if you called me Bree, since I can't hear you and only you can hear me, but -" Bree pauses, looking to Francesa for confirmation, "they can't talk directly to me through the camera, right?"

Francesa blinks. "No, dear."

Bree grins. "Okay! Just checking, since you never know what computers and cameras and all that can do nowadays! TVs, phones, computers, jet packs, drones, pretty soon we'll have flying cars and – and robots or something like that." Bree says seriously, almost breathless in her explanation. Honestly, Bree's probably not wrong, technology is an amazing, ever-evolving thing after all.

"We already have robots to a certain extent." Bree's surprising companion, Giovanna McCune, points out, sounding a bit bored. She levels Francesa with a look – one built of mutual respect for the other woman, but not much friendliness and bows her head to the camera.

"And, as I'm sure many of you know, we have Giovanna 'Gigi' McCune with us tonight." Francesa introduces.

"Good evening." Gigi greets the camera a little coolly, both in attitude and because Gigi is so effortlessly cool in a way that so many people can't be. Francesa observes the twosome and is mainly curious as to how they ended up getting together and spending the night together, but decides against it, at least in front of the camera. Someone as boisterous as Bree hanging around someone as snobby and unaffected as Gigi is a talking point for the viewers all on its own without Francesa needing to bring attention to it.

Instead, she decides to ask after something else. "So ladies, how has this evening been treating you so far? Bree, I know this has to be quite a big change from what you're used to, seeing as you're a Five."

Bree doesn't look embarrassed or put-out in the least at the mention of her low caste in front of the camera or in front of the two Twos in front of her. "I feel like a kid in a candy shop!" She gushes, cheeks becoming ruddy in her excitement, the young woman practically vibrating in place.

Gigi eyes her critically, but with a semblance of fondness in those green eyes of hers. "More like a bull in a China shop." She amends with a hint of humor in her voice.

"Mm." Bree hums, a frown pulling down her face as she considers this.

There's something quite adorable about the way Bree really focuses on this point from Gigi, as if she's really thinking about it and all the connotations she has. There's something about Bree, beyond her being a hardworking Five, that makes Francesa think she's the kind of woman that puts her all into everything she does, no matter how simple. Her work, the way she speaks and thinks, the way she loves. Everything is give one-hundred-and-ten-percent, even this interview she's giving now. She may look purely excited on TV, but Francesa is catching the way she's holding herself and the rapid rise-and-fall of her chest, and she knows Bree is taking this interview very seriously.

"Maybe I'm a bull in a candy shop!" Bree suggest with a triumphant smile and she looks to Gigi for approval, which the other woman gives with a slight tilt of her head, but that seems to be enough for Bree, who beams back. "Anyway, I'm just so shocked by everything here and excited, too, it's amazing. I seriously didn't know glasses could be so sparkly."

Francesa can't help the surprised giggle that leaves her at Bree's serious declaration. "Has that really been the most exciting part for you?" She asks with a grin.

Bree shakes her head, sending her curls flying. It might be odd, but Francesa is oddly charmed by the blatant disregard Bree has for the state of her hair, if that means she gets her point across. "Maybe a close second, but the best part has to be how pretty everyone's dress is. The patterns and the colors and they're all so long, well, not all of them, but a lot are, oh and the floral theme is just so cute! A lot of people really don't realize how much flowers can affect the mood of a place and the flowers just make the whole ballroom feel so happy and inviting, you know?"

Francesa feels sort of breathless after Bree's rant, but yes, she does know. "I agree, you all have dressed wonderfully, including the two of you."

"Oh, this dress?" Bree asks, before breaking into a large twirl, making her flower-adorned dress swish with her, "this isn't mine, I found it at the tailor's, but it was love at first sight, for me at least, since dresses can't see." She runs her hands down the dress and is practically glowing with how wide her smile is. "I've never had a dress before like this, so this is amazing to even wear." She admits, her voice growing a bit soft in her admission. "I'm not even sure I deserve to wear it."

Francesa's a bit surprised at that, but before she can comfort the girl, Gigi surprisingly swoops in. "It's not about whether or not we deserve these dresses, it's about whether these dresses deserve us." Gigi declares with a sniff. "Think about it: a couple of hours ago, that dress was nothing but a limp, hanging piece of fabric, cold and forgotten, and now it's hugging your body and looking absolutely radiant because of you. I doubt anyone else could make that dress look as good as you do."

Bree looks close to tears and she rocks on her heels for a moment, before she launches herself at Gigi and envelopes her into a hug, wrapping her arms around Gigi's shoulders. Gigi looks taken aback, sure, and more than a little embarrassed, her pale skin quickly becoming the same shade of red as her hair, but she gently hugs Bree back. "Thanks, Gigi! You look so good in your suit!"

Gigi looks much more comfortable now that she's the one being complimented, instead of giving the compliment, and she grins proudly. "Yes, like I said, no one could pull off your dress, and no one else could pull off this suit."

Francesa smirks inwardly at Gigi's returning attitude. This Gigi she's used to, the slightly arrogant, always confident Gigi, not the comforting, weirdly gentle Gigi that came out just moments earlier. "You're right, Gigi, that suit it wonderful! What made you decide to wear a suit instead of a dress?"

"I wanted something that would fit my body just right." Gigi grins, all teeth. "And all the dresses I had in mind simply didn't do it in the way I wanted."

Francesa nods. "And, if I may ask, as a larger woman, and the only plus sized woman here, are you nervous to show off so much skin and body?"

Gigi doesn't look surprised by the question and though Francesa is a bit put-out that she was seemingly so obvious for Gigi's taste, it's a question that needed to be asked, even if Gigi was anticipating it. "I'm a plus sized model for a living." Gigi states, sounding a bit dubious. "Why would I be nervous of showing my body off if I do it for a living?"

"But it's different from that, is it not?" Francesa challenges. "As a model, you're promoting a product, but here, you're promoting yourself and you're in direct competition with women who have a different body type than you for a prince's affections." Francesa tries to point this out as gently as she can, knowing this is such a touchy subject. She knows Gigi is asked about her body all the time, so she probably has a thick skin when it comes to stuff like this, but it still doesn't feel very good to poke this subject again.

"I think it's awesome!" Bree pipes up with a grin. "More of her to love, right?"

Gigi raises an eyebrow at that comment, but other than that, doesn't comment on it. "I don't view this that much different from being a model. I'm not ashamed of my body when I'm showing off the newest jacket, and I'm certainly not going to hide it just because there's a man involved." She answers definitively. Francesa appreciates the honesty, and if there's one thing about Gigi she admires wholly, it's the young woman's professionalism toward everything she does, even when she's asked uncomfortable questions such as that.

Francesa quickly moves on, satisfied with the answer she got. "So as the night goes on, Prince Julian will be picking more and more girls to dance with. How do you two feel about a dance with the Prince? Nervous, excited?"

"I think I'm more nervous to step on his foot or fall on the floor than to be with Prince Julian again." Bree explains. "He was super fun to talk to during our meeting, so I wouldn't want to hurt him during our dance."

"But if he wasn't fun to talk to, you wouldn't feel bad for stepping on his foot?" Gigi asks with a slight smirk that only grows wider when Bree's eyes grow to the eyes of saucers and she trips over her words to correct what she said. Francesa watches them for a moment and is struck by just how odd of a dynamic they have together. But it also works in a weird way – the snooty callousness of Gigi and the excitable happiness of Bree coming together. Bree is endlessly admiring Gigi with everything Gigi does, and it seems as though Gigi is a bit protective of Bree, though really, it's kind of hard not to be.

When Bree is done talking, Francesa turns her focus to Gigi. "What about you, Gigi? Are you much of a dancer?"

"I'm not a huge fan of it, but I am quite good." Gigi says, and again, there's something charming about the way Gigi talks about herself. Yeah, it's a bit arrogant, but it's like she's genuinely proud of everything she can do, as if to prove to the naysayers that she can do what everyone else can. "I'm much better at formal dances than freestyle, though."

Bree laughs at that. "Oh man, I think I'm the opposite! If you count flailing wildly as dancing!"

Francesa thinks that's a good place to end things, so she shoots the camera a conspiratorial grin. "What do you think, Illéa, is flailing wildly a freestyle dance? Let me know on my website and I will shout out some comments later tonight!" She turns back to the two women and finds herself genuinely disappointed that their shared interview is coming to an end. "Ladies, it's been an absolute pleasure speaking to the both of you. Anything you'd like to say to the audience before you go?"

"Uh! Stay in school?" Bree says, well, more like asks, looking unsure.

Gigi lets out an aborted snort, before she quickly gathers herself, but nods her agreement. "I think that's good enough. Stay in school."

Francesa nods with a grin. "Well, you heard them, Briseis Diamandis and Giovanna McCune, everyone! Stay in school!" Reid cuts the camera off, most likely to give Francesa a break, and she turns to the women and smiles. "It was a bit of an unconventional interview, but I think it worked really well overall, ladies, well done."

Gigi looks uninterested again, and her green eyes scan the crowd, as if she's looking for someone in particular. "It was good to talk to you again, Francesa." Gigi says, and Francesa is surprised to see that Gigi means it.

"You as well." Francesa says back, feeling a little stunned.

Gigi walks away without a backwards glance, and Bree begins to follow her, and from the way Gigi slows down her walk just slightly, it seems that she's okay with Bree tagging along. "Bye, Francesa! Thanks for talking to us! Well, at least me, I don't want to speak for Gigi, but I-" Bree's voice trails off as she travels further and further away from Francesa, her voice now blending in to the sea of surrounding voices and music.

Francesa lets out a sigh, cracking her neck slightly and faces Reid with a smile. "We're doing really good, Reid. It's amazing what a reevaluation of your priorities will do for your mood!"

Reid snorts.

"What, it's true!" Francesa insists with a laugh of her own. "I'm thinking I want to interview one of the lower caste girls again and then we can-" Francesa pauses when she finally notices the look Reid is shooting her. "What?"

Reid mimes letting out a big, deep breath and relaxing his whole body with the motion.

Francesa discreetly rolls her eyes. "There's no time for more breaks, hun. I already decided I was going to be more lax, but there has to be a limit on how lax I am!" Reid and Francesa stare at each other for a few long moments, a challenge and a conversation all at once, before Reid finally relents and lets Francesa have her way, which he usually does anyway. "It's not a bad thing to want to be productive, Reid, and besides, we've lost a lot of time, so there's no way I'll be able to interview everyone I wanted to, but that doesn't mean we can't try to squeeze in as many as possible, right?"

Francesa rocks on her heels, looking around the crowd before her eyes land on Leo who is backed up into a far corner holding Sylvaine's cat and being terrorized by the children. He looks scared and out-of-his-element, but not bothered at all, in fact, he looks a little happy to be included in something. Francesa almost feels happy looking at the scene, before she notices the amount of women watching him and the children and her mood sours once again. God, the man could puke on the floor and people would still coo over him and want to watch him instead of spending time with Fr – uh, instead of doing anything productive with their time. Here's Francesa, working hard, doing her best to make a good show for the Report, and she has to go looking for the women she needs to interview, yet Leo is trying to curl into himself and people are infatuated with him!

It makes sense for Louise Marshall to be over there, that's her daughter directly involved of course, but no one else should be so interested. Francesa puffs out her cheeks in frustration, and starts to walk over there, sort of unsure of what she's going to do, but –

There's a firm, steady hand on Francesa's shoulder that stops her from moving further ahead. Francesa tries to shrug it off, but Reid is stupidly and unfairly strong. "Reid, let go."

Silence. Obviously.

"Reid, please. I'm not going to do anything rash." The hand tightens on her shoulder, as if to say, We both know that's not true. And Francesa lets out a frustrated sigh. "So what if I am? Why does Leonard get to have all that attention when I should be having it right now? I'm the one giving amazing interviews! Not him."

The hand on her shoulder is still firm, but it feels a little more supportive, too, gentler. Francesa turns on her heels to face Reid and she sighs at the look on his face.

"I just...I felt so out-of-sorts earlier and now that I finally have a handle on things, I'm once again reminded that no one cares." Francesa admits, a frown on her face.

Reid shoots her a look. I care.

"You only care because I help sign your paychecks, Reid." Francesa sighs. "If you think about it, no one here is truly my friend. The Princess can barely stand me, Prince Connie has eyes only for Kieran, Kieran is too busy with Prince Julian, Prince Julian has to deal with his Selection, and Ray is off doing whatever it is Rays do." Francesa desperately wants to scuff her shoes dejectedly against the floor, not unlike a child, but stops herself at the last moment. "And these Selected, they only care about me when I'm interviewing you and my opinion and influence matter, but as soon as the camera's off..." Francesa looks off to where Leo is, still surrounded by a crowd. "All eyes are on him."

Reid grabs Francesa by both shoulders and brings her attention solely to him, boring his dark eyes into her green ones and simply staring at her. Again, that unnerving feeling comes over her, lighting up a thousand tiny bugs all over her skin as she feels looked at again, and then she realizes.

"Are you really trying to say that your eyes are on me? Literally?" Francesa laughs, the noise bubbling unexpectedly out of her.

Reid doesn't look embarrassed in the least.

Francesa laughs for a little while longer, shaking her head at the thought, but she really appreciates it, and like that, all those stupid thoughts disappear, at least for now. She's Francesa fucking Emilia fucking Gabrielle fucking Leonardo, dammit, and she's amazing and can do anything! Francesa nods her head. "You're absolutely right, Reid, fuck Leonard."

Reid shoots Francesa with the most unimpressed look he can muster.

"Alright, so maybe that's not quite what you were saying, but that's what I choose to get out of it!" Francesa declares with a renewed sense of purpose and energy. "Let's do this!" Francesa shakes herself out for a moment, before looking around and finding her next target, but before she can go, Reid's hand is back on her shoulder, making her look back at him.

Reid takes his hands off of Francesa and points to her.

You are

Reid curves his pointer fingers into little c-shapes, one facing up, one down, and hooks them together, before switching hands and doing it again.

My friend.

Francesa's face floods with heat, but she also can't help how touched she feels. However, she's done way too much soul-bearing tonight, so she sends Reid a grateful smile, before she turns away from him. "Yes, yes, hun, you should count yourself lucky that I count you as my friend, too, now! Let's get to work!" Francesa starts to walk to her next target, but she can't help the warmth that's blooming in her chest from everything that has happened tonight. The successful interviews, the surprisingly helpful conversation with Belia, and....you are my friend. She's a well-known reporter, a lover of animals, a younger sister, a beloved member of the Bear Family (she hopes), but Francesa can't help but love the title of friend the most.

Okay, well, she loves being called beautiful the most, but being Reid's friend is a pretty damn close second.

Hello everyone!

I apologize deeply for this being a later update than usual! I'm doing a lot of analyzing and reworking of Break My Pride, reviewing certain things and if they'll work or not, which is why this chapter is a Francesa-Report chapter. I wouldn't call it a filler, since we get to talk to some more of our girls and get inside the very chaotic head of Frannie, but next chapter will go back to Julian, I promise!

Reid is played by Michael B Jordan because I said so. I might add a description for him on my profile page later, but we'll see!

I absolutely adore writing for Francesa and I kind of never want to stop. I had so much fun playing with form and typography and just exploring Frannie's thoughts like this, and I hope you all loved it, too! What did you think of Belia, Zen, Bree, and Gigi this chapter? Please let me know what you think! :D

I will try to get the next chapter out faster than this last update, but I'm going to refrain from making hard estimates because I don't want to disappoint anybody.

I hope you are all doing well and I hope you know how much your love and support motivates me to write Break My Pride and encourages me to make it as good as I possibly can. I can't believe we've officially hit twenty chapters and over two-hundred thousand words! Thanks for being with me during this whole crazy story and I can't wait to write more and more!

Have a wonderful day!

~Rose :)