“You think so? That’s so sweet,” Bianca gently smooths a hand across her stomach at Isadora’s comment, turning in the mirror to assess just how bloated she appears in the dress. Not too bad. Even on the worst days, she could still out do a number of these girls even at their best – including little Miss McKenna here. “Mhmm,” She hardly acknowledges Isa’s quip about having money. Bianca can’t quite put her finger on it, but like a shark to blood, she can sniff out a try hard from a mile away, someone desperate enough to fake their way into the world she’s lived in her entire life. And maybe that isn’t the case with Isadora, but Bianca’s never been wrong before. If she could actually be bothered to give the other girl a second thought, she’d get to the bottom of the mystery herself, but to think Isadora takes up any sort of space in Bianca’s mind? It gives Isadora more credit than she’s actually worth. “My god,” She laughs, turning to face her. There’s a small but undeniable pleasure in standing on a platform and having to physically look down on the blonde. “I don’t know what kind of places you’re used to, but more couth, please. Have some decorum,” Bianca continues in her amusement. “Also, I don’t do returns. I buy what I like, and I keep it. I was never one of those girls who bought something, wore it once with the tag still on, and then returned it so they could get their money back, you know? But to each their own. I’m sure that’s more your thing, but it’s not mine. Thank you for your concern, though, even if it was a little tasteless.”