Manson sat comfortably in the silence of his study, his gaze fixed attentively on the screen of his iPad. His lips curled with amusement as Fiona appeared in front of the screen, seated in front of her mirror with an expression caught between panic and determination.
[4:10:05—Fiona: Should I pack up my hair? Ugh, he's gonna read too much into it.
She gathered her hair into a loose bun, stared at herself seconds longer, then groaned in frustration before pulling it down.
4:11:01—Fiona: Maybe I should just let it flow]
She sighed dramatically at her reflection.
Manson chuckled softly; he locked the screen and placed the iPad on the table.
"Why is she trying so hard to not catch my attention?" he muttered, a dangerous smile slowly curling on his lips. "Let's go meet her in her room."
