The time was eight at night, and Max was seated on the couch wearing a tailored black suit with polished black shoes, the sharp lines of the fabric fitting him cleanly, posture relaxed but upright, one arm resting along the back of the couch as he casually scrolled through reels to pass the time, his expression patient, while his bedroom had completely been taken over by three girls.
Jennifer's calm voice occasionally mixed with Machina's efficient tone and Josefina's brighter energy, the sounds of zippers, heels on the floor, and low laughter leaking through the door, the space clearly transformed into a preparation zone that he had no access to at the moment.
Jennifer, Machina, and Josefina — who had returned with her red dress — were still inside, adjusting, fixing, debating small details that only they seemed to understand, and Max had originally planned to leave by seven thirty, but forcing them would only make them roll their eyes at him, which before dinner was unnecessary.
