‘ look at this —— ‘ the way she looks at rose is as if she’s her disapproving mother. glasses are perched on the end of her nose, blue hues narrowing a little in displeasure. she has the arm of a garment between her fingers, holding it up to show rose, to show her what she’s unimpressed with. ‘ what is this ? a PUFFED sleeve? are we in the nineteen eighties ? ‘ she drops the material now, as if it burns her to hold it for too long, shaking her head and waving her hand, gesturing for somebody to take the whole railing of clothing away. ‘ i hired you because i was impressed with the dress that you made daphne kluger at the met gala this year. i had high hopes for you and yet you bring me that pile of, well, trash. ‘ she purses her lips, letting out a breath. ‘ i don’t want to have to fire you but it really, truly, isn’t looking good. ‘
@mnamaithe.
