A/N: This was originally going to be the press conference, but there was too much going on so I separated it into its own chapter. This chapter is just more character interludes/introductions before the whole press conference goes down. Hope everyone finds it entertaining (even though nothing really happens)! Avery is back near the end, so you can get your whiny prince fix!

Quarantine: Day 1 Part 5

"All that bronzer on your face makes you look like an orange."

Carrie Summers couldn't believe the words had come out of her own mouth. She meant to keep the snark inside her head, to bite down on her tongue and resist the urge to cut this D-list starlet's ego down a size. But, as the high-pitched whining about visible pores and defective setting spray continued, Carrie found it harder and harder to stay quiet, culminating in one unfortunate lapse of judgement.

She never should have listened to the crystal girl. She should have stayed in her room. Going door-to-door offering her services to fix people's foundation for the press release was a bad idea. As soon as this starlet opened her door, a gaggle of giggling girls in designer labels close behind her, and said 'why wouldn't I be invited to the press release?,' Carrie should have turned around and left. Enduring the naked psychopath was better than this.

Because now Carrie was faced with a hundred and twenty pounds of angry diva in red-bottomed shoes.

"As opposed to what? Looking like a vampire?" the starling shot back, arching an eyebrow to give Carrie a scorching look. "What's your name?"

"Carrie."

"Well, Carrie, why don't you stick to minding your business?"

"You asked for make up advice. You got make up advice."

"I was asking my friends - " the starlet gestured to the group of vapid socialites behind her, their whispered voices chittering behind hidden hands, " - not someone who studied face-painting at Cirque du Soleil."

"I happen to love the circus."

All heads turned to the top of the stairs, where a woman in white appeared out of nowhere. At least, Carrie thought she was looking at a woman. She could have been looking at some otherworldly creature: all sharp lines and pale skin and piercing eyes. It was impossible to tell how old this person was, something timeless and sleek about the immaculately tailored suit and the slicked back crop of white blonde hair.

The intruder descended the stairs with effortless grace and a swagger that implied power, stopping one step above the starling and her posse.

"What's your name?" The tone was friendly enough, but Carrie had heard tones like that before - tones that promised nothing friendly at all.

Rori sniffed, her nose upturned. "Aurora Winfield."

The intruder's smile sharpened.

"I have a dog named Aurora. Beautiful animal…but not much going on in the brain." One long finger tapped Rori on the forehead hard enough to make a dent. Carrie recognized a threat when she heard one. Rori took a step back and swallowed her comeback. "You girls have had enough fun for one night, don't you think?"

It wasn't a suggestion. Carrie knew that much. Thankfully, Rori found her missing brain cells and stormed off in a huff, something along the lines of "the prince will hear about this!" flying off her filler-full lips. The other girls left too, because they were smart and not dumb like Carrie, who still sat on the ground, dumbstruck that someone had come to her aid for once.

The creature in the white suit sauntered up to Carrie, standing on precariously high heels as they peered at her with something akin to curiosity.

"You didn't have to do that," Carrie said, unsure of what this intruder wanted now that they had come to Carrie's rescue. Everyone always wanted something. No one actually cared about -

"Don't act like I did anything for your benefit. I was just having a bit of fun."

The smile flashed Carrie's way was dagger-sharp and full of teeth. It made Carrie feel like prey, and she didn't stand a chance at escape. Not when this predator crouched down, wrinkling the perfectly-pressed suit that probably cost more money than Carrie had ever seen in all the years of her lifetime combined, so that Carrie was unable to look away from pale blue eyes.

"Word of advice: don't let people walk all over you. Once one of them senses weakness, they'll all be around for their pound of flesh."

"A bit late for that."

Carrie tried not to sound bitter, but it was impossible. She had been walked on her whole life. Now some stranger was telling her to toughen up like it would magically fix things? Yeah right.

"Oh darling, it's never too late." Pale blue eyes raked over Carrie. She felt skinned to the bone, like this woman could see every single fiber of her being, messy bits and all. "I could teach you, if you like."

"I...I-I don't..." Carrie stammered, not sure of the right thing to say. Her immediate reaction was to reject the offer. Everything came with a price. But this woman, person, creature was unsettling. One wrong word, one offense, and those sharp, smiling teeth could end up in her throat. "I'm not sure what I want."

A beat of silence. A single exhale.

"Shame. You're just my type." The intruder straightened up and brushed cold hands down their suit to smooth the wrinkles away. They pulled a card out of the jacket breast pocket and extended it to Carrie. Carrie took the card, if only because she would be stupid not to. She wasn't out of the woods just yet. "If you change your mind, come and find me. I'm always in the market to take on new projects."

With that, the stranger walked off, rounding a corner and disappearing just as quickly as they appeared.

When Carrie could no longer hear the clicking of heels, she let herself breathe.

The business card was plain, no decorations save for a silver border around the edges. The middle of the card, in black calligraphy, listed an email address and a name: Laurencia Dankworth.

Avery sprawled dramatically across the bottom of the main foyer staircase, his head tipped back so he could each of the intricate points where the arches of the vaulted ceilings met. When he was younger, he used to walk the halls with his eyes pointed upward in a vain attempt to count each and every one. He always lost count after twenty. There were always more interesting and people to see and things to do than count how many golden arches his luxury palace had.

Except for now.

Now, all Avery had left to do was mope and count the arches (and go to a press release, but that sounded booooorinnnggggg). He relayed that pain to the young man next to him...among many other things. Avery had problems, okay? It was healthy to vent to this totally random stranger. His mother was always telling him to see a therapist. This was the next best thing he could get in this quarantine.

Unfortunately, Avery's company was too quiet, and far too interested in his stupid instrument than Avery's problems.

"You didn't understand a thing I just said, did you?" Avery asked, miserable at the though of being ignored once again.

The young man put down his violin and his bow, fixing Avery with a bored look like he would rather be anywhere else doing literally anything else.

"I speak English."

The accent was not convincing, but Avery believed him. The guy just had one of those faces. It was annoying how trustworthy and all-around symmetrical and good looking this guy's face was. Avery tried not to be jealous.

"Oh, phew! I hate repeating myself." Avery let out a relieved sigh. "I'm Avery, by the way."

"JR."

Initials as a name? How mysterious! Avery was intrigued.

"So, do you take requests?"

The question was just a formality. Avery assumed since JR was holding a violin, that he had been hired to play at the ball, and therefore was paid to cater to all Avery's musical whims.

"Depends on the request."

Avery pursed his lips, thinking about what he wanted to listen to earlier in the morning. "All the good girls go to hell by Billie Eilish."

JR's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Not really my genre, sorry."

"But, I'm the prince! I command you to play my request!" Avery demanded, trying very hard not to stomp his foot. Queen Deirdre told him that it wasn't very nice to stomp around, that when Avery was frustrated, he should use his words instead. "Please? It's been a really crappy day, and the radio is absolutely useless when it comes to entertainment. You're my only hope."

JR looked at his violin, then at the empty room around them, then at his bow like he could use it to strangle himself...or Avery...or both. Avery was used to getting that look from Addy. It didn't faze him anymore. Instead, Avery focused on making his most convincing puppy dog eyes. Rori told him once that he could get anything he wanted when he pulled out those eyes (what Rori failed to tell him was that the eyes were so creepy people did what he wanted to make him stop).

"I'll play you some music, but not that trash."

"Excuse me! Billie Eilish is not trash! Her work on her debut album was transformative. It won her a Grammy! Many Grammys!"

"Sounds like all the same synth-pop crap to me."

"You have absolutely no taste."

JR poked his bow into Avery's chest. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that Beethoven doesn't fucking slap."

Avery cocked his head to the side, confused. "What's a Beethoven?"

"Oh my god." JR muttered more profanities under his breath in a language Avery did not know...which honestly could have been any of them because his foreign language tutor had given up on him when he failed to conjugate the verb être for the third year in a row. "Buckle in, Your Highness. Your musical palate is about to expand."

"Fine...so long as it's upbeat," Avery grumbled.

The first few notes rang out high and clear, echoing across the golden arches.

Beethoven was nice, Avery had to admit. But not as nice as Billie Eilish.