A MOON AT STAKE: ADRIENNE CYNZIA
When Adrienne woke up the next morning, Cara de Vries had managed to become shoved to the very back of her mind, becoming the least of her worries even though she should have been the most concerning problem in Adrienne’s bank of future disasters to come. However, even though the sun was gloriously baking Adrienne as she lay in her bed, unwilling to force herself to complete her daily pre-bar opening routine, Adrienne could only think about the events of the night before. She was here. Selene was here, or as she went by here, Cynthia Kaminski, well known model.
Groaning, she rubbed her temples, blinking up at the plain cream ceiling. Part of the ceiling was peeling to her left, tucked away in a corner that it was almost barely noticeable. If you weren’t lying on the bed like Adrienne was, you wouldn’t have noticed it. But right now, all Adrienne seemed to want to do was to stare at this imperfection on her ceiling. Stare and stare until it became the bane of her existence forcing her out of her bed and into work clothes. She wanted this imperfection gone, and while she wasn’t much of a handyman, she could fix a wall. It couldn’t be that hard. So long as it was fixed, and the blemish was finally gone after living here for such a long time.
This was how Algor Rosenberg found her a few hours later when he arrived at the bar to help with the pre-bar opening routine. He had just walked in downstairs when he heard a string of angry French swear words explode from above, and with one glance around, it was obvious that there was no one else around. With no other indication of any other living soul within the building, Algor took it as Adrienne getting mad over some home project or another. This was unusual, since Adrienne rarely partook in personal home projects alone, let alone by herself. They were just not something she was good at, yet, Algor had come to realise the woman only reacted in such a way when she was piss mad at something, or distracted, or had a mind that felt like it was going to explode. Whichever of those reasons were currently preoccupying her mind, Algor hoped that it wasn’t all three.
He was wrong.
And when he walked upstairs and into her room, invading Adrienne’s personal space, all he could say was, “whoa…”