How The Tables Have Turned

Denise went back empty-handed after managing to get out of doing her measurements by complaining about not being able to chose her own dress. Agatha didn’t pressure her thankfully, and now she was back at the mansion.

She stomped up the stairs quickly, but halted when the scent belonging to Damian drifted near.

“Did you like your dress?” He asked, as he scratched his cheek with the top of the water bottle in his hand. “Kain picked it out himself for your big day.”

Denise turned on her feet, walking back down the stairs and crossing her arms in front of him. “Whoever asked you both to go picking dresses?”

He shrugged, “In my opinion, it was a bit old fashioned. Normally, you’d have all that lace thing on the top and a nice frill at the bottom but damn. This one's fucking plain. I bet you think so too…judging by your expression. And I--”

“Where is he?” Denise cut to the chase, cocking her hip. “I need to talk to him.”

He tilted his head, “Who?”

Denise narrowed her eyes and a laugh