songofthetides:
After realizing Violet was completely elsewhere, she continued to just speak her thoughts out loud until they got in the SUV and she was handed the caffeine. “Thanks,” she took it gratefully and drank about half right away. The vehicle pulled away and she tried to see where they were going, but she had no idea. “You’re not answering me, where are we going? And why is my stuff not good enough?”
❝ Just a trip, ❞ she replies curtly, green-grey swirls lifting momentarily to rest on Chloe as she takes a sip from her own shiny tumbler. ❝ It’s not my fault you don’t have appropriate clothing. Besides rummaging through your stuff would’ve taken too much time. ❞ She says this as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Most people would find the flippant way in which she dismisses Chloe’s store of clothes insulting, and to a large degree it is, but then again, this is Violet Merchant.
They stop at a runway, the cold morning air whipping their faces as they exit the vehicle and are escorted towards the waiting jet. ❝ Mr Carlowe is unavailable on short notice ma’am, ❞ one of the attendant informs Violet slightly nervously. ❝ We found you someone else, but he is young. Freshly out of the league, 9 flights under his belt. ❞
❝ .... Thanks? So there’s no problem with us leaving, right now — right? ❞ If this information worries Violet at all — which it doesn’t, her features are an open book.










