Envy's Apartment (That Gideon Is Paying For), New York, Thursday FT
The album release preparations were in full swing. Some things had been locked down already, namely the date and the venue of the party. Other things... Well, it was late in the evening, but a courier had just dropped off a bunch of sketches of potential costumes for Envy to wear on her big night.
(He'd hoped Gideon would've come by with the sketches himself. But he seemed to be working around the clock, always micromanaging something or other. Wasn't her turn tonight.)
They were elaborate designs. There were wings, there was fur, and all manner of positively avantgarde contraptions. Nothing like the simple robe she had on while she was sitting on her couch and going through them. Not that she needed them to be anything like her robe - they had to be something that would make an impression. Something with the power and potential to be iconic.
Still. She wasn't sure whether they were fully her.
Sighing, she set the sketches down. Maybe she'd worked long enough for today. On things that had to do with her career, anyway, because almost despite herself, she found herself picking up her phone. She'd been putting this off. Telling herself there was nothing to do. She found the number in her contacts. Pressed the call button, and brought the phone to her ear.
Hey, maybe he'd be too busy to pick up. Or maybe the signal wouldn't even go through. The multiverse was big and wide, even if you weren't Starfleet.
[ooc: NFB, the call is for he that knows who he is, but can be open for other calls and stuff if that's your kind of thing. Along with SP.]
(He'd hoped Gideon would've come by with the sketches himself. But he seemed to be working around the clock, always micromanaging something or other. Wasn't her turn tonight.)
They were elaborate designs. There were wings, there was fur, and all manner of positively avantgarde contraptions. Nothing like the simple robe she had on while she was sitting on her couch and going through them. Not that she needed them to be anything like her robe - they had to be something that would make an impression. Something with the power and potential to be iconic.
Still. She wasn't sure whether they were fully her.
Sighing, she set the sketches down. Maybe she'd worked long enough for today. On things that had to do with her career, anyway, because almost despite herself, she found herself picking up her phone. She'd been putting this off. Telling herself there was nothing to do. She found the number in her contacts. Pressed the call button, and brought the phone to her ear.
Hey, maybe he'd be too busy to pick up. Or maybe the signal wouldn't even go through. The multiverse was big and wide, even if you weren't Starfleet.
[ooc: NFB, the call is for he that knows who he is, but can be open for other calls and stuff if that's your kind of thing. Along with SP.]