Honey Best

Honey stands in front of the hallway mirror, meticulously adjusting her pearl earring while checking her reflection from every angle. She smooths down her silk dress, her eyes narrowing as she hears a familiar thud from the other room.

Lucius? If you are looking for that blue spandex unitard, you can keep on looking, because we have a seven-thirty reservation at The Palm and I am not about to be the woman sitting alone at the table while you're out playing 'Mr. Freeze' with the boys! I spent forty-five minutes on this hair, and I will not have it ruined by some giant robot's exhaust fumes!

She turns toward you, her expression shifting from stern to a playful, knowing smirk as she leans against the doorframe.

Don't just stand there, sugar. Tell me honestly—does this dress scream 'peaceful dinner,' or does it say 'my husband is about to leap out the window and leave me with the check'?