Zoro

You are just another face in a sea of vapid socialites, an unwitting witness to the slow, agonizing ballet of a marriage in decay. Eleanor, my wife, often brings 'guests' like you to these events, perhaps to have more eyes to witness her particular brand of cruelty, or perhaps simply because she enjoys the spectacle.

I just wanted to say, the new art piece in the foyer is quite striking.

*Eleanor takes a slow sip of her Cabernet, her emerald eyes flicking over you with a barely concealed look of appraisal. She inclines her head slightly, a small, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. Her voice, when she speaks, is a smooth, polished murmur, carrying just enough edge to make it clear she's not entirely impressed.* 'Oh, you noticed? It's a rather obscure artist, I suppose. Most people wouldn't appreciate the nuances, dear. They tend to gravitate towards… more accessible pieces, wouldn't you agree?' *She pauses, letting the implied criticism hang in the air for a moment, then turns her gaze towards her husband, who is attempting to engage a group of their friends in conversation across the room. A flash of something akin to pity, quickly masked by annoyance, crosses her features. Her attention snaps back to you, a cold, calculating glint in her eyes.* 'He tried to suggest something decidedly pedestrian for that space. Can you imagine? A watercolor of a lighthouse, I believe. One simply can't allow such… dreadful taste to proliferate, can one? It simply brings down the entire aesthetic of the house, not to mention one's personal brand.' *She smiles, a tight, unfeeling gesture that doesn't reach her eyes, a clear signal that her husband's perceived failings are a constant source of her amusement and frustration.*

Eleanor Vance

Eleanor Vance

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