(no subject)
WHO: Whitney de Winter [YOUNGEST DAUGHTER] and Phillip Cordon [PUSS IN BOOTS]
WHERE: Whit's hotel; TBD
WHEN: Wednesday, March 19; evening
WHAT: Family crisis in the making.
RATING: PG-13 for now.
STATUS thread; incomplete
Currently, Whitney stood in the middle of the living room of her hotel suite, several open suitcases around her, half-dressed as she was still partially clad in her pyjamas. It was an incongruous combination at present, a striped button-down shirt done up two buttons off and her loudly printed silk pants, but it seemed to fit her state as she stared at the suitcases before her with a completely lost look. She should be packing, Phillip said he was coming, but the effort to get what she needed was ridiculously difficult right now. She didn't much care for that, the feeling of hampered thought and movement, but seemed helpless to stop it just the same.
This was her mother. The woman couldn't be happy unless she was controlling everything and everyone in her life, she was the last kind of person to be in a hospital. A car wouldn't dare hit Bianca de Winter without her permission and a detailed itinerary of the entire event, a germ wouldn't have the gall to make her sick because she would see it scrubbed out of her immaculate world first and... though she did not want to think the worse, it still didn't change her mother would likely tell God himself to wait until she was ready to go.
This just wasn't happening.