Vivian barely gave Atalanta a second glance as she passed her.
Just a slow, half-lidded gaze—bored, disinterested, like she was mentally swiping left on the entire evening. Her boots clicked softly across the polished floor, her coat hanging off her shoulder like she didn't give enough of a damn to wear it properly.
She'd collapsed into the couch like the world bored her to death, one leg slung over the other, her thumb lazily scrolling through whatever void she found more interesting than everything else. Her coat half-hung from her shoulder, her dark hair slightly tousled like she hadn't even tried today—and still, the room bent around her like it knew not to breathe too loud.
The tension from outside didn't follow her in.
It was already dead.
She let out a breath that practically yawned: "God, this whole thing's so damn long…"
