Tinny jazz music piping through the study, Darby was leaning over a particularly enthusiastic theatre student who was taking his role as “the dead body” very seriously. The boy laid on the floor, occasionally grunting out a moan, his white t-shirt stained with fake blood. She reached out a boot to nudge his side slightly, which only earned her a peak from between his eyelids with a begrudging look. “What do you think?” she asked a passerby, tossing hair over her shoulder to look at them, lips twitching upwards. “Was it Colonel Mustard in the study with a pipe?” She joked, red lips staining the brim of her champagne flute as she took a sip. “Hey, what do you think your secret codename would be? I’m partial to something like The Nightingale. Or the Thot.” @yatesstarters
