"Even if you get my body," he declared, voice trembling with heroic despair, "you won't get my heart!"
The mannequin behind him tilted awkwardly, as if trying to politely excuse itself from whatever this was.
Seraphina stood frozen, the clipboard dangling at her side like it had given up on life. Her mouth was slightly open, her expression caught somewhere between what the hell? and did I just get dragged into a C-drama subplot?
"…HUH?!" she finally blurted. The word echoed through the boutique, confused and offended on multiple levels.
Another pause.
A long one.
Then she finally sighed, picked up her clipboard like it had personally betrayed her, and brushed it off with a sigh that carried the weight of several lifetimes' worth of patience.
"You are," she said, slowly dusting the clipboard off, "genuinely the most dramatic client I've ever had."
Rex gasped. "You mean that? Even above your billionaire regulars and popstars?"
"By a very wide margin," she muttered.
