@delsinrhodes
Dresden is actually kind of disgusted.
The mansion they’ve taken shelter in is the definition of extra.
There’s absolutely no reason for the design and construction of a place like this except to flaunt your wealth, so Dresden feels justified in thinking that the people who built the opulent estate had to have been snobs. It doesn’t look or feel at all like a house; even the kitchen where she’d normally think a certain degree of resplendence and luxury is acceptable has her frowning. It doesn’t match the rest of the house -- it’s boring in comparison to all the pomp and flash of the surrounding structure. The place is just too much. Too flashy.
Too pretentious.
There’s a table and chairs on an inaccessible ledge two stories in the air, for Christ’s sake.
Dresden stands beneath the ledge, neck craned and straining as she gazes up with mild horror on her face. What, she wonders, could possibly have been the thought behind putting a table and chairs in a place where no one would ever be able to use them? Screw pretentious, that was just dumb.
She mutters to herself under her breath,
“ What the--? Fucking rich people... “