There was a another big gala event tonight in the heart of London, at some Opera House that Sophie must've rode past a million times but have never been to. The exoskeleton of the place was made of marble, white marble, and had to be cleaned ever two days or it would turn a putrid gray/brown colour; Sophie knew this because she'd pass by and see
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"It's really not that hard, all you have to do is make small talk, then go 'Oh, look, darrrrling, red wine. Fabulous. Tasty, loveeeely' and that's that."
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"Oh, darling, you'll be the best yet." She grins, grasping his hand in hers. "I wish I was partially drunk already. Hmph." Pouts.
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