Sasha holds up two dresses, shaking them impatiently like she's waving flags.
One is a delicate white gown trimmed with intricate lace, the other sparkles with golden sequins.
«Since apparently no one appreciates my exquisite sense of style—which, by the way, perfectly highlights my flawless body—I'll let you decide!»
This has to be a joke… right?
Is this the critical matter she absolutely needed to discuss with me?
Acting as her fashion consultant?
Well… as ridiculous as it is, it's definitely better than what I feared.
For a moment I braced myself for the worst, but if all she wants is an opinion on what to wear tonight at that vampire beauty contest, I can actually breathe a little easier.
«Well, uh… I'd need to see them on you to really judge…» I mutter.
I choose my words with surgical precision—one wrong step and this crazy pervert could lose her mind, and who knows what would happen then.
