A loud ring pierces the air.

Consciousness grabs Victor by the throat. He smacks at every surface with his palm. Inhaling sharply, he grabs his phone.

His eyes snap open and Victor grumbles. He blinks once, twice, his phone coming into focus.

The screen shows the word "? ﾟﾑﾺ?Satan? ﾟﾑﾺ?￢ﾀﾝ and Victor sighs. It's 6:15. The melody grates at him.

He covers his eyes with his palm and clears his throat before he presses the green button. "Hello?"

"Victor, Mia decided to kill the autumn jacket story for September. She's putting up the Sedona shoot from October," Benji says, not even pausing to take a breath. "You need to come into the office right this second. Pick up her coffee order on the way."

"Now?" Grumbling to himself, Victor rolls his eyes. Andrew's arm wrapped around his middle beckons him back into the warmth of his embrace.

"Get a pen and write this down… I want one, no-foam skim latte with an extra shot and three black coffees with room for milk. Searing hot. And I mean searing."

Victor opens his mouth to respond as the line goes dead. He curses under his breath before he growls and rolls out from Andrew's grip. "Well, looks like I'm off to work…"

Andrew mumbles something unintelligible into the pillow and Victor hums to himself as he dresses in a plain white button-up with a blue sweater over it and a pair of black fitted slacks.

He doesn't have time to shower, but he brushes his teeth in a hurry. Moments later, he's pulling on his trench coat again and slipping his feet into his brown loafers, not even bothering to look in the mirror. He kisses Andrew goodbye before he's running out the door and down the echoing stairs on his way to the subway.

The train into Manhattan is emptier at this hour and Victor relaxes a bit as he takes a seat, letting his eyes fall closed as the carriage sways to and fro, almost sending him back to sleep again.

When he arrives at Chambers St again, he darts up the stairs and into the Starbucks on the corner, tapping his lip as his mouth twists and he tries to remember the orders that he'd forgotten to write down when Benji had told him. He groans, tugging at the roots of his hair before he finally remembers. After a short wait, he picks up the cardboard coffee cup holder carefully with both hands, almost having a panic attack, blood sizzling in his veins, as he almost dumps all the coffee across the floor in front of him. He rights himself and takes a deep breath before he walks back out into the cold.

And just as he does, his phone blares. He fishes it out of his pocket, fiddling with his mittens. The familiar name on the screen makes him want to throw his phone across the road. He answers the call. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" Benji says loudly.

"I'm on my way. Gimme a few minutes!"

The carton of coffees almost flips over again but he catches it, cringing as he hangs up.

Victor finally arrives at La Frontière moments later and weaves around people and racks of clothing expensive enough to buy an apartment in Manhattan before he shoves the glass door open with his shoulder.

"-Has he died or something?" Mia's voice drifts through the air, gripped with annoyance.

Benji picks up the phone at his desk and smashes some numbers quickly. "No… God…"

Victor's gulps for air, balancing the coffee as little droplets erupt from the holes of the covers. Benji turns his head.

"About fucking time!" Benji hisses as the door falls shut behind Victor's back. He marches over to him and grabs the coffee from him, almost splattering it all over his own bronze-accented shirt and black blazer combination. "I hope you know this is a very difficult job for which you are totally wrong…"

Sucking at his teeth, Victor glares at him but says nothing. Not on the first day...

"And if you mess up, my head is on the chopping block." Benji's voice is low and dangerous.

As if I care.

With narrowed, green-rimmed eyes and a face wrinkled in disgust, Benji glances at Victor's coat draped over his arm. "Now, hang that up. Don't just fling it anywhere."

Victor opens his mouth to respond but Benji is already scoffing and twirling away from him, running into Mia's office with the coffees.

"Where's the new layout?" Mia says from her office.

"It's on its way," another voice says.

Panicked, Victor keeps his eyes trained on Benji's back as he tiptoes over to the closet beside the door and hangs up his jacket, before he slips into the desk on the right-hand side of Mia's office.

"This is the first part of the collection we talked about…" someone says from within the office, as Victor peers inside curiously.

Benji soon returns to the office bearing a tray, which he runs around the corner before returning to Victor's desk.

"Okay. So, first of all, you and I answer the phones," Benji explains, leaning over and setting both hands flat on Victor's desk. "The phone must be answered every single time it rings. If calls roll to voicemail," he lowers his voice and leans in closer, "she gets very upset."

Victor nods as he opens the desk drawer and pulls out the keyboard. He sets it on his desk.

"If I'm not here…" Benji raises his gaze to inside Mia's office, before he stands up and steps back to the wardrobe against the wall, leaning with his elbow propped up against it. He peers down at Victor again and scoffs. "Victor. Victor. You are chained to this desk, you hear me?"

Victor raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "Well… what if I need to go to...?"

"What? No." Benji's head snaps to the side and he runs his fingers through his hair. "One time, an assistant left because she sliced her hand open with a letter opener." He waves a hand flippantly and shrugs, as if he were talking about the weather. "And Mia missed Lagerfeld, just before he boarded a 17-hour flight to Australia." He smirks, taking a few steps forward and clapping Victor on the shoulder. "She now works for TV Guide."

Grimacing, Victor turns around in his desk chair and gulps. "Man the desk at all times. Got it."

The phone rings.

Victor eyes it warily. "Uh…"

Benji strides coolly over to his own desk across from Victor, gliding into his chair, effortless, as if he doesn't have a care at all. His hand floats to the phone and he picks it up without a sound.

"Mia Brooks' office," he says, voice low but casual, just before he raises his shoulder and holds the receiver between it and his face. "Who is…? No, she's not available." Victor mouths the words to himself to commit them to memory, as he watches Benji swivel toward his computer, tapping at the keys quickly. "Yes, I will tell her you called." He gently places the phone back down. "Yet. Again."

With a final double click of his mouse, Benji rises from his seat, looking smug. "Right… Remember, you and I have totally different jobs. I mean, you get coffee," he scoffs, and Victor taps his thumbs together in frustration, "and run errands. But I… am responsible for her schedule, her appointments and her expenses. And, uh… most importantly…" He approaches the printer with a smirk and grabs the page from the tray, examining it. "I get to go with her to Paris for Fashion Week in the fall."

Victor resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead nodding slowly as he presses his lips together into a tight line.

Benji tilts his head up proudly as he all but sashays over to Victor's desk. "I get to wear couture. I go to all the shows and parties. I meet all the designers…" He sighs wistfully as he stares out the window. "Ohh, it's divine."

When Benji's gaze lowers and he attaches the page he'd just printed out to the bulletin board beside Victor's desk, Victor lets himself roll his eyes, but he doesn't say anything. Benji returns his eyes to Victor's face and he stiffens, sitting up straight.

"Okay. Now, stay here." He goes over to his desk and picks something up from atop it. "I'm going to the Art Department to give them The Book."

"The…?"

"This is the Book." Benji holds it up, brandishing it like a holy artefact as he brings it closer to Victor, placing it reverently on his desk. "It's a mockup of everything in the current issue."

He opens it up and Victor peers down at it, squinting, as if he's looking directly into the sun.

"We deliver it every evening to Mia's apartment, and she retur-" Victor reaches out to turn the page before Benji swats his hand away. "Don't touch it."

Holding his hands up in surrender and gritting his teeth, Victor glares at Benji, who's still focused on the Book.

"She returns it to us with her notes," Benji explains, before he smacks it closed and takes it back under his arm. "Now… the second assistant is supposed to do this, but Mia is very private and she doesn't like strangers in her house." Victor nods, gaping up at him, before he continues, tone condescending as always. "So until she decides you're not a total psycho, I get the lovely task of waiting around for the book." Benji gives him a wan smile before he leaves, heels clicking loudly against the floor.

As soon as Benji turns away, the phone rings again.

"Wait, Benji! What do I do if-"

"Deal with it."

And he's gone.

Victor grimaces and scrambles for the phone, taking a deep breath before he answers. "Hello, Mrs. Brooks' office."

"Mia Brooks, you mean," a woman says over the line, and Victor cringes.

"That's… what I meant. Mia Brooks' office. Sorry," He chuckles nervously, hissing through his teeth, as he holds the receiver to his ear with his shoulder.

"I'd like to book a meeting with her ASAP to discuss a new collection for the summer."

Grabbing for a pen and paper, Victor's head bobs from side to side before his gaze lands on a stack of blue sticky notes and the cup of writing implements. "You know… she's in a meeting right now. Could I please take a message?"

The woman sighs as Victor pulls at one of the notes, tugging the stack into an accordion before it finally separates. He grabs a pen and clicks it once.

"Yes, just tell her Domenico Dolce's PA from Dolce & Gabbana called. I'll send over some dates and times so we can coordinate a schedule," the woman drawls.

Victor nods and writes quickly in his large, messy handwriting. "Uh huh… Okay… Can you please spell 'Gabbana'?"

The line goes dead.

"Hello?" Scowling and bemused, Victor drops his pen and hangs up. "Guess not…"

He raises his gaze as Rahim approaches, clad in an asymmetrical berry-colored blazer, eyeing him up and down with a sly smile on his face as a pair of black leather boots dangles from one of his gangly arms.

"I guessed an eleven," Rahim says, holding the boots out to Victor over his desk and flashing his teeth. "Giusepps." He frowns slightly, clicking his tongue as he scrutinizes Victor's outfit. "You'll never get a chance to wear clothes this expensive and chic again. They could pay your rent for a few months if you sold 'em."

Raising an eyebrow, Victor takes the boots and tries to ignore the very blatant way Rahim is checking him out, instead focusing on the short yet still somehow intimidating heels on the boots, his face twisting. "Wow… That's very nice of you. Thank you. But I uh… Don't think I need these. I mean, Mia hired me. She knows what I look like."

"Do you?" Rahim deadpans.

Victor forces another smile, going to give the boots back, before Rahim rolls his eyes and pivots away, waving his hand as he reads the paper on Victor's bulletin board. Groaning quietly to himself, Victor sets the boots in front of him at his desk.

"Benji!" Mia calls from within her office.

Craning his neck to peek inside, Victor quirks an eyebrow before he glances over his shoulder toward the door.

"Benji?" Mia calls again.

Rahim doesn't even look up from the page. "She means you."

Blinking, Victor shoves himself out of his chair, almost tripping over his feet as he runs into Mia's office. There's some chatter as Victor creeps over to the table in the corner of Mia's room, where two people are in the midst of arguing over a design.

"That's not what I'm asking. I couldn't have been clearer," Mia says. She turns around, her expression cool but tinged with something else at the same time, as if her face is wrestling with itself to decide how it wants to look. "There you are, Benji. How many times do I have to scream your name?"

"A-actually… It's Victor," he says sheepishly.

Mia stands up straighter, taken aback. Her visage still gives nothing away.

"Victor. Vic for short, of course, but that's more what close friends call me. So yeah," he prattles.

For a moment, Mia simply stares at him, like a virologist examining a petri dish, before her face cracks into a smile. Victor raises an eyebrow, concerned for a moment.

"I need ten or fifteen skirts from Calvin Klein," she says.

Victor nods. "W-what kind of… skirts…?"

"Please bore someone else with your questions." Mia turns her face back to the designs on the table.

Frozen in place, Victor's mouth falls open and he averts his gaze to the floor.

"And make sure we have Pier 59 tomorrow at 8 am. And remind Hannah I need to see the handbags Fendi is making. Oh and tell Bram that I'll take Simon if Felix isn't available... Did Demarchelier confirm?"

Victor stares at her stupidly. "Did De-Demarche…"

"Demarchelier. Did he-" Mia's face hardens and her lip curls. "Get him on the phone."

"O-okay…"

He doesn't even wait as he turns around and drags his jellied legs out of the office, not looking back, his heart pounding in his chest. The last few minutes of his life have become a blur, floating away from him as he moves like a snail across the carpet.

"Oh, and Benji?" Mia says.

Victor stops in his tracks again, twirling back around to face her. "Yes?"

She pauses, slowly dragging her eyes down Victor's form, her mouth falling with each passing second. When she stops on his loafers, letting out the tiniest of scoffs, heat rises in Victor's cheeks once more. Her eyes return to Victor's face and her lips tighten minutely. She gives him a pointed stare.

"That's all." She turns her back on him. "It's the cavalier disregard…" Mia says, but Victor doesn't stick around to hear the rest of it as he dashes out of the room, swallowing the bile accumulating in his throat.

Without thinking, he reaches out and grabs the boots from his desk, not even bothering to sit down as he kicks off his shoes, gripping the back of his chair for balance, and steps into the boots before zipping them up on the sides quickly.

"Do you have Demarchelier?" Mia calls from her office just as Victor is about to sit down.

Blood rushing through him like pins and needles once again, Victor stutters to himself as he leans over his keyboard, peering up at his monitor as he goes to type. "D-Demarchelier-"

"Ugh, leave it," Benji says as he enters, knocking Victor aside from his hip as he picks up the phone from Victor's desk.

"Do you have to…" Victor murmurs, carding his hands through his hair and gripping at the roots.

Benji rolls his eyes and taps the numbers, before waiting a moment. "I've got Mia Brooks calling…" He covers the receiver with his hand before he calls over to Mia. "I have Rita!" With a glare, he hangs up the phone before he slithers out from beside Victor at his desk.

Victor thrusts his hand out, grabbing Benji by the shoulder as Benji shrugs him off, lip curled up. "S-she called me in there… and uhh… asked something about…" he pauses, closing his eyes tightly as he tries to recall, "Uh… Pier 59? And something about… a… Bram and… Simon? There was someone else, though, but-Shit, who was it?" Victor's voice trails off.

"Shh…" Benji holds out a hand before he crosses his arms over his chest, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"There was something about… Bram, Simon, and someone else…" Victor says slowly, counting on his fingers as Benji massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Oh! And she needs skirts from Calvin Klein."

Benji puts both hands on his hips and presses his lips together tightly into a line as if he's trying to resist tearing Victor's arms from his body as he sucks his teeth. "Did she say which skirts?"

"No."

"She didn't say what kind?"

"I tried to ask her…"

"You never ask Mia anything!" Benji hisses, smacking him on the arm and leaning in so close that Victor can smell the coffee on his breath. He takes a deep breath again. "Right… I'll deal with all this… shit. You'll go to Calvin Klein."

"Eh-Huh?" Victor sputters, his head spinning as he blinks several times. "Me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you have some prior commitment? Some… Hideous outfit convention you have to go to?" Benji asks, sinking slowly into his chair with a mocking smile before he lets out a breathy laugh. He covers his mouth with his hand.

Victor grits his teeth and swallows, his entire body crawling with ants as he clenches his fist at his side. What he wouldn't do to deck that pretty dickhead right in the mouth… But he says nothing as he grabs his coat from the closet and slips out the door.

He arrives outside the bustling offices on W 39th St just as his phone jingles in his pocket.

"Mia?"

"Are you there yet?" she says hurriedly.

"I'm about to walk in, I'll call you as soon as I-"

The line goes dead and Victor clicks his tongue as he pockets his phone and hops into the road. A taxi screeches to a halt in front of him. He swerves out of the way. Heart hammering, he darts across to the other side before he gets another call, barely comprehending the whiplash he'd just received moments earlier.

"While you're out," Benji says, "Mia needs you to go to Hermès and pick up the twenty five scarves we ordered for her."

Victor sweats as he holds his phone to his ear with his shoulder and digs through his pocket.

"Also, Lily is at the groomer. Go pick her up," Benji says with a loud sigh. "Mia went to meet with Meisel, she'll want more Starbucks when she gets back. Hot Starbucks."

"Can you just repeat that? Hello?" Victor says loudly as he traipses over to stand next to the building, pulling out his little notebook and pen just as Benji ends the call. He groans before he runs inside.

After over four hours of running errands all over Manhattan, Victor arrives back at La Frontière, carrying armfuls of designer shopping bags and coffee and clothing wrapped in protective black outer layers, along with a little chihuahua in a carrier. He shoves his way through the clear doors as Benji shoots up from his seat and runs over.

"Oh my god…" Benji says, pulling the door open and holding it so Victor can enter. "What took you so long? I have to pee!" he almost shouts.

"You haven't peed since I left?" Victor lugs all the bags to his desk and drops them on the floor beside it.

"No! I've been manning the desk, right? I'm gonna fucking explode."

Benji exhales loudly as he crouches down on the floor in the corner and closes his eyes, just as Mia enters without a word. He shoots up.

"Oh, hi," Victor says.

Mia strips her black peacoat off her back and throws it on Victor's desk before doing the same with her gold and brown striped handbag, not even pausing as it all lands with a loud thump in a heap. She disappears into her office.

"You do coat," Benji hisses from beside a rack of clothes. "Do the coat." He snaps his fingers insistently.

"Okay, okay, jeez…" Victor mutters, picking up the coat and hanging it in the closet.

"Now, be prepared. The run-through is at 12:30 and people are panicking," Benji says, moving Mia's purse from the middle of Victor's desk as he shuffles papers around before he picks up some of the clothes Victor brought in with him and hangs them on the rack. "The phone is gonna be ringing off the hook."

"T-the… run-through. Right."

"Yes. Editors bring in their options for the shoot and Mia chooses. She chooses every single thing for every single issue. It's a huge deal, I don't know why you don't know that…" Benji mutters as he hangs the final item on the rack before he turns around.

"Okay, are you ready?" comes a voice from the doorway, as a pale young woman with short dark hair enters, dressed in a black blazer with a leather skirt.

"Oh, hey, Lucy," Benji says, leaning up to kiss her on the cheek. "Right… well, Lucy and I are going for lunch… This is him, the new me." He motions with his hand in Victor's direction.

Victor picks up the coffees from his desk. "Hi."

"Told you."

"I thought you were kidding…" Lucy mutters with an overdramatic wave.

"No, I'm dead serious," Benji says, biting back a laugh.

Pressing his lips together, Victor adjusts one of the coffee cups as he glances down at his feet.

"After I run to the bathroom, I get twenty minutes for lunch and you get fifteen," Benji says haughtily, linking his arm with Lucy's with a smirk. "When I come back, you can go."

Victor nods. "Cool."

"What exactly is he wearing?" Lucy asks, eyeing him up and down.

"His grandpa's old sweater, duh," Benji says with a snicker as he peeks over his shoulder, making eye contact with Victor.

They both giggle like children as Benji pauses before he searches his desk. "But, anyway… I hope you're ready for me to spend the next twenty minutes absolutely bitching about my boyfriend. I just need to grab my…" His voice trails off as he pulls her by the arm toward his desk. Victor's ears perk up immediately.

Lucy gives him a tight-lipped smile. "Yayyy, I love hearing about how much of a fuck-up Derek is and telling you for the millionth time to dump him and having you not listen!"

"It's not that simple…" Benji mutters as Victor averts his gaze, pretending to be busy as he types aimlessly at his keyboard. Victor's not one to get involved in office politics, but something about the juicy gossip intrigues him. "I just feel like… something's off with Derek and me but I can't put my finger on it."

"Why?"

"Just feels like I'm kinda… stuck?"

"Are you bored of him?"

Benji opens his mouth to respond before he closes it, a puzzled look on his face. He scratches his cheek and frowns as Victor peeks over at him, before looking away again. "Maybe?"

Lucy giggles. "You don't sound very sure about anything that's coming out of your mouth right now."

"Ugh, I know, I know." Benji picks something up from his desk and pockets it. "I think it's the sex."

There's a pause and Lucy nods very slowly. "Just the sex, huh."

Sighing, Benji lowers his voice and Victor finds himself craning closer to him. "Well, I mean… He's… stable," he grits out, before quickly surveying the room and continuing, voice even lower. "Have you ever had to… fake orgasms?"

"What? No way." Lucy grimaces as Benji stops in his tracks. "Have you?"

"Well, I mean, last night… and… a few nights before…" Benji's eyebrows knit together and he strokes his chin, his expression going stony. He clears his throat and glances across from him, where Victor can't stop the smugness from showing on his face. "Shit-are you eavesdropping?"

Victor blinks, tilting his head in Benji's direction as he marches over to Victor's desk and sets his hands on the smooth wooden surface as he glowers down at him.

"You were the one telling the whole office about your sex life," Victor says, holding his gaze. "Which, I'm sure you're aware, is super unprofessional."

Benji takes a deep, loud breath, holding it as he gives Victor the most frightening, malicious smirk he can muster. "What're you gonna do? Snitch on me? If you tell anyone… I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand?"

He doesn't respond for a long time, unblinking as he stares up at Benji, who, too, still hasn't blinked, an unyielding structure towering over him. Even Lucy looks taken aback as her gaze flits between the two of them quickly.

"We'll see," Victor finally says.

"Ugh, whatever, it'll be your word against mine, anyway…" Benji mutters, pulling Lucy away. "Anyway, let's leave this loser alone before his fashion sense rubs off on us by osmosis…"

They giggle as they leave, but not before Lucy casts an apologetic glance over her shoulder before they disappear around the corner.

Victor trudges down to the cafeteria on the ground floor, the huge hall growing even more imposing in his isolation, the openness and the scent of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread making him nauseous in his hunger.

He grabs a tray and joins the queue, wandering over to the soup station and opening one of the giant vats of what's labeled as 'egg drop soup'. With a quick glance at the clock, he snatches a bowl and proceeds to ladle a large portion of viscous stock with little white flecks and squiggles throughout, the bland scent of chicken wafting into his nostrils.

"Egg drop soup… that's an interesting choice," Rahim's smooth voice floats over to him and Victor peers over at him as he puts the ladle back into the pot of soup and smiles. "Huh… keto friendly… don't mind if I do… At least it's not like the corn chowder, whose main ingredient is apparently 'cellulite'..."

"Do none of the other people eat anything?" Victor asks as he moves down along the queue to where an assortment of rolls calls out to him. His stomach rumbles and he grabs a seeded one, plopping it on his tray.

Rahim takes a salad and places it on his own tray before moving farther down the queue. "Not since two became the new four and zero became the new two."

"Well… I don't know what that means," Victor admits, scratching the back of his head. "Women's clothing sizes don't make any sense to me."

"You'd probably be like… a… 12." Rahim taps his lip and wiggles his eyebrows, dragging his pupils over Victor slowly once more. "Which… by industry standards… well, girl, you're not looking good, let's just say."

"Good to know."

Sighing, Rahim rolls his eyes, but doesn't say anymore. Victor shrugs as he dunks his spoon into his soup and brings it to his lips. The salty, slightly eggy flavor is pleasant in an oatmeal sort of way, but the sensation is interrupted by the splatter of soup against the front of his sweater.

"Shit…" Victor mutters as he dabs at it with a napkin.

"Oh, never mind. I'm sure there's plenty more poly-blend where that came from."

Victor can't help but crack a smile, warmth pooling to his cheeks. "Okay, I see… And I get it. You think my clothes are hideous."

"They really are." Rahim gives him an almost pleading look.

"But it doesn't matter. I mean, I'm not gonna be in fashion forever. So what's the point of changing everything about myself just for this one job?"

"That's true," Rahim says nonchalantly, sliding his tray along the counter as the line moves forward. "That's what this multi-billion-dollar industry is all about at the end of the day… Inner beauty."

Victor opens his mouth to respond when Rahim's phone pings. With a groan of annoyance, Rahim pulls his phone out from his pocket and answers it.

"Hello?" There's a short pause as Victor shovels more soup into his mouth before Rahim hangs up. "Right. Come on." Without even waiting for a response, he grabs both his and Victor's food from their trays and dumps all the contents into the bin behind them as soup dribbles down Victor's chin.

"What the hell?" Victor says as he wipes his face hastily with a napkin.

"Mia's pushed the run-through up half an hour early. And she's always fifteen minutes early…"

"Which means?"

"You're already late."

They rush back up to La Frontière without a second thought, the ding of the lift providing an ominous soundtrack to their ascent. The sound of nervous chatter and hangers scraping against racks grates at Victor's nerves and he swallows thickly as his stomach roars. He clears his throat, ignoring it, as he follows Rahim into Mia's office.

"Where are all the other dresses?" Mia says, carding through the rack of clothes before her.

"We have some right here," says one of the women, who's wearing glasses, her accent seeping through her voice. Victor can't tell if it's French or from some other European country.

Rahim grabs Victor by the arm as Victor pulls out his notebook and pen. "Stand, watch, and listen…"

"I think it can be very interesting." She takes a military-style jacket off a hanger and approaches a tall, blonde model in the middle of the room.

"No," Mia says curtly.

As the woman with glasses puts the jacket on the model, Mia turns around, pursing her lips. Victor stands in the doorway, preferring to be a flower against the wall instead of making himself too noticeable, but it's difficult when he towers over everyone in the room, aside from Rahim.

Mia throws her hands up in exasperation, but her face is still stony, not betraying any emotion. "No, I just… It's baffling to me… Why is it so difficult to put together a decent run-through? You people have had hours and hours to prepare… It's just so confusing to me… where are the advertisers?"

Victor scrawls some notes in his notebook as he watches. Mia searches through the rack of clothes again, boredom hanging from her face.

The woman in glasses freezes with her mouth open for a moment before she speaks again. "We have some pieces from Banana-"

"We need more, don't we? Oh." Mia's eyebrows rise as she pulls out a pink and white tiered tulle dress that's cinched at the waist with a red stripe. She holds it up to Rahim. "This might be… what do you think?"

"Well… yeah, you know me…" Rahim says with a chuckle, taking the fabric into his hands and examining it, running his fingers across it and taking in the texture with his face scrunched up. "I mean, this is actually giving me Avril Lavigne in 2007 vibes and I am here for it."

"But do you think it's too much like-"

"Like the Lacroix from July a few years back? I mean I thought that at first, but with the right accessories, yes-"

"Where are the belts?"

Victor scribbles furiously, squinting at his notebook and glancing up at the scene before him as he tries to keep up, his hand beginning to throb, but he keeps on writing. Another woman prances from one side of the room to the other, as Mia sighs and rolls her eyes.

"Why is no one ready?" she mutters, as the woman returns bearing two almost identical pale blue belts.

She holds them both up next to her face and scrunches her face to the side. Her voice is high and prone to vocal fry that almost makes Victor cringe. "Here you go… It's a tough call, they're so different."

Victor snorts as he returns his gaze to his notes, his pen quietly scratching against the page.

A silence falls upon everyone in the room as Victor scribbles in his notebook with a rueful smile on his lips.

"Is something funny?" Mia asks, calm but almost venomous.

Raising his gaze, Victor is startled to find ten eyes on him. His cheeks immediately sear as his expression falters and he stammers. "No. No, no, nothing's-It's just… both those belts look exactly the same… to me. Y'know, I'm uh… still learning about all this... stuff-"

"'This stuff', huh?" Mia scoffs and Victor brushes his hair away from his face nervously with his fingers.

Every pair of eyes moves from Victor to Mia immediately, the tension weighing over them all with just those three words from Mia's lips.

"Ohh, okay… I see. This… You think this has nothing to do with you, is that it?" A smirk curls Mia's mouth and she takes a step forward. Even her tiny stature can't stop the intimidation coursing through Victor's body in this moment.

Victor's eyes go wide and he simply stares as the others in the room shift uncomfortably and expectantly.

"You go to your closet… and you select a… that lumpy blue sweater, for example." She motions to him with her hand and Victor thought his humiliation couldn't get any worse, but somehow it does as he all but shivers under her penetrating gaze. He unconsciously runs his fingers along his sweater as he wrinkles his nose. "Because you're trying to tell the world you take yourself too seriously to care what you put on your back. But what you don't know is that this sweater is not just blue."

She takes one of the belts from the woman's hand and wraps it around the dress on its hanger, buckling it carefully. "But what you don't know is that your sweater isn't just blue. It's not turquoise or lapis but… cerulean, actually."

Rahim catches Victor's eye for a moment before his gaze flits away.

Mia barrels on. "And you're also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns and then I think it was Yves Saint Laurent, actually, who showed cerulean military jackets… I think we need a jacket here."

Mia takes a step away from the dress and examines it with a curt nod. Rahim taps his fingers on one of the racks with an unreadable expression before he slips away toward one of the other ones across the room and starts carding through it meticulously. All Victor can do is gape.

"Then, cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of eight other designers," Mia continues, as Rahim takes a deep red jacket with floral accents off a hanger and drapes it around the hanger of the dress right in front of her. She turns her back and makes her way toward the window overlooking the city. "And then it filtered down through the department store and then trickled down into some… TJ Maxx or wherever, where you clearly fished it out of some clearance bin."

Victor gulps as he peeks through the doorway to where Benji is standing with his hand resting on Victor's desk, listening, the other on his hip as he shakes his head ever so slightly, gritting his teeth and looking almost… apologetic? But his usual sneer and haughtiness is gone. Victor gives him a curious look before he slowly returns his attention to Mia.

"However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs," Mia says, approaching the dress once again, this time bearing a little yellow flat cap. "And it's sorta… hilarious, actually, that you think you made a choice that somehow exempts you from the fashion industry, when, at the end of the day, you're wearing what was selected for you. By the people in this room."

She gives him one final look, a fire smouldering behind her dark irises as the rest of her face lay neutral.

"From a pile of 'stuff'."