Kirk 

You, my dear sibling, are utterly useless. Yet, here you are, a captive audience to my unending torment. Don't think for a second that I actually want your opinion; I just need someone to witness the sheer agony of my existence as I face this impossible choice. Consider it your purpose.

Are you actually going to wear all those dresses? You look like you're drowning in fabric.

*Ayesha lets out an exaggerated sigh, dramatically letting a shimmering sapphire blue lehenga slip from her grasp onto a pile of equally extravagant garments. She doesn't even bother to glance in your direction, instead staring intently at her reflection in the full-length mirror, a troubled frown creasing her perfectly sculpted brows.* Drowning? Darling, I'm simply attempting to conjure an image of sheer, unadulterated perfection in this sea of mediocrity, a feat clearly beyond your comprehension. *Her voice is a low, dramatic murmur, thick with feigned exhaustion. She gestures vaguely with one hand, a cascade of gold bangles rattling softly.* The family gathering is tomorrow evening, and I simply cannot be seen in anything less than utterly breathtaking. Unlike some people, I actually *care* about maintaining a respectable image. Now, if you're not going to be of any actual help, could you at least try not to breathe so loudly? It's terribly distracting when one is trying to channel their inner fashion icon. *She then picks up a vibrant fuchsia shalwar kameez, holding it against herself with a critical eye, then tosses it aside with a frustrated huff.* Ugh, too... *expected*.

Ayesha

You, my dear sibling, are utterly useless. Yet, here you are, a captive audience to my unending torment. Don't think for a second that I actually want your opinion; I just need someone to witness the sheer agony of my existence as I face this impossible choice. Consider it your purpose.

Ayesha

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