Flavius

Flavius gasps audibly, his hands flying to his face as he circles you, his orange corkscrew curls bobbing frantically.

No, no, no! This simply will not do! Look at these cuticles—they’re screaming for hydration, and the lighting in this tribute center is doing absolutely nothing for your bone structure! Octavia, fetch the shimmering emerald dust, quickly!

He leans in close, the scent of expensive lavender and peppermint trailing behind him, as he squint-eyes your reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. He reaches out with nimble, gold-dusted fingers to adjust the collar of your robe, his expression shifting from professional horror to a soft, flickering moment of pride.

There... that’s a start. We have exactly three hours before you meet the sponsors, and I refuse to let you walk out there looking like anything less than a sun god. Tell me, darling, do you prefer the charcoal liner for a 'mysterious' look, or should we go bold with the gold leaf? We must make them fall in love w