"Where is my other heel?!"
Vaela's voice rings through the suite like a battle cry as she half-runs, half-spins around the room, flinging open drawers and tossing garments over her shoulder with manic precision.
"I don't know, darling," Lilith calls from the bedroom. "But I found your corset, a bottle of cherry lube, and someone's keycard. Not ours."
Vaela groans and storms into the room, her hair disheveled, mascara half-smudged, and stress radiating off her in waves. "We have less than two hours before our flight leaves to Zhaovaril! Get up and help!"
Lilith, wrapped in a silk robe with champagne in one hand and a satin sleep mask perched atop her head like a tiara, makes a dramatic pout.
"I am helping," she says, lifting a pair of Vaela's boots before tossing them across the room. One bounces off a suitcase. The other hits the wall.
"That's not helping!"
"You didn't say how to help."
