The bell above the door chimed a bit too loud as Hannah walked into the modiste's store.
Every head turned towards the door, because in just a few days, they could already guess who walked in, whenever the bell chimed that way.
Hannah paused just inside the entrance, allowing the attention to settle on her. Her chin lifted slightly, with silver-threaded curls falling perfectly over her shoulders as she adjusted the gloves on her hands.
She took her time as she had always done whenever she arrived here.
The store itself was beautiful in that curated way. Soft fabrics were draped across mannequins, pastel silks were folded with care, and measuring tapes hanged loosely around the necks of busy seamstresses.
The place smelled like perfume and pressed cloth. So delicate, and refined. Alas, it was entirely beneath her mood.
"Finally," she said, her voice cutting cleanly through the quiet hum of work. "I was beginning to think this place had forgotten what urgency meant."
