"Do you ever feel at home?"
A blink of the eyes, an exaggerated tilt of the head — always the usual response when it comes to her.
But what will always stand out is her smile seemingly forever etched on those dainty lips — meaningful yet secretive all at the same time.
"Did my philosophical side rub off on you, Reine?"
A scoff, but it's not derisive in the slightest as most people would proclaim.
"Is a little bit of harmless curiosity not allowed now?"
The soft giggle itches a trembling heart, before it dies down abruptly as the rustling of leaves is heard in the distance.
"That's for me to uncover all on my own."
"… You consider that a satisfactory answer?"
And lo and behold, there is that smile again, as if it never left from the contours of her mouth.
"No, it isn't. But it's at least the truth I live by."
—
"The truth, huh…"
"Um, excuse me, Mademoiselle…"
Reine blurts out a long sigh before tapping her manicured fingernails repeatedly on the polished table, indicating for her assistant to continue her report. However, her eyes still seem to be transfixed on whatever item she's grasping on her other hand, only nodding and humming along absentmindedly from the information likely to be dull buzzing around her ears.
"Mademoiselle, about that auction banquet—"
This seems to completely capture her attention, because the small item finally slips away from her slender fingers to the awaiting table and without hesitation, with her full chest—
"Tell them I will no longer attend their stifling occasions from now on."
The assistant blinks in disbelief, not sure on how to react or proceed from such a shocking declaration.
Sensing the unexpected silence, Reine lifts her head up to meet the other's gaze with one eyebrow shooting up as if asking, "is there a problem?"
"M-madam, surely you jest?" The assistant stutters, before clearing her throat then frowning in concern. "Someone… he… will not take lightly to this."
Reine pauses for a moment, only to end up responding with a scoff while leaning back on her office chair with an expression devoid of any emotions.
"That man may have been my mentor for a decade now, but he should be made aware I never had plans to be strung along with him."
Few people in her life knew she traveled all by her lonesome to Russia at the fresh age of a teenager, and those people were her parents, the multitude maids stationed back at home akin to puppeteers, and this one assistant she puts most of her trust into. Although all of them had their reservations and disagreements of her decision at that time, no one could truly shake a girl brimming with resolve and confidence.
Even more so now, since that girl has blossomed beautifully into a well-renowned fashion designer of France — constantly booked and busy with commissions and shows to fulfill and uphold.
Noticing how her assistant seems to be still against her decision, Reine silently shuts her eyes and intertwines her fingers together, as if waiting and calculating for a… particular moment to arrive.
It takes a while for the assistant to understand her boss' sudden odd behavior, so she quickly withdraws from the scene with a perfectly trained, 90-degree bow and a messy stack of papers about to topple over.
As soon as she made her full exit, Reine's phone suddenly rings — exactly as she anticipated.
Except the caller ID is someone she would rather not converse with right now.
Reine pauses, hesitates, before resigning with a sigh and accepting the call begrudgingly. "What is it, mother?"
"Now what's with that unflattering tone, jeune dame? Is this how you greet your mother after the amount of rejected calls you threw my way earlier this morning?"
Exhaling a breath, Reine reins in her irritation to respond as calmly as possible. "I was preoccupied with meetings and customers to attend to. You are well-aware how busy my line of work can become."
She hears unintelligible voices on the other end of the line, before the woman directs her attention back to the conversation. "And I assume one of those meetings involve the unruly banquets of that Russian encule."
It was not even delivered as a question — there was only firmness and disappointment.
"It's none of your concern." Reine emphasizes through clenched teeth.
"When will you stop obsessing over that good-for-nothing of a woman? You almost lost everything you had, Reine! Even your life!"
"Enough. Just, stop." Pinching the bridge of her nose, she spits out a few more words of finality — "This conversation is over. Do not ever call me again if you are still hung up on that." — before decisively ending the call.
And as soon as she did, another call comes through — the caller ID as simple and boring as "Mr. Mentor."
Reine raises both of her eyebrows in disbelief, the aching temples on the sides of her head about to burst open any minute now.
Not even a second of a break… At least mother is right with one thing. This man is really an encule.
Of course, as soon as she accepts the call, a gravelly voice with a rich accent can be heard on the other end asking rather swiftly: "You will be attending the banquet, yes?"
Reine resists the urge to roll her eyes and even spit out a curse word or insult, so she nonchalantly inspects her sharp nails before responding with a blunt, unconcerned, "No."
And just like that, the fuse immediately explodes before it can even be properly lit.
She hears a furniture — table, perhaps? — crashing down rather heavily on the concrete floor, and what seems to be wood being torn and splintered apart due to the devastating impact. Alarmed screams of residents even mingle in with the chaos, but what stands out to her the most was the aggravated, heavy breathing of the man clearly withholding his infuriation.
"Reine Descoteaux… is this how you pay me? To relinquish your duties as my protégé?" The growl was evident in every word uttered with that deeply intimidating voice.
Dramatic as always.
Reine yawns exaggeratedly — satisfied to hear him catching the bait when she hears what sounds to be a vase shattering into pieces — before drifting her attention back to the item she abandoned a while ago. "Do you ever stop jumping into such hasty conclusions?"
She has an inkling the man will retort and ramble afterwards, so she doesn't hesitate to cut him off before her ear can suffer from excessive irritation. "There is no point in my continued visitations in your insufferably dull occasions. I'm not an obedient doll similar to your so-called other protégés. I had a goal when I agreed to be under your tutelage, and you know that better than anyone else because you promised."
Reine rarely ever speaks in determined, rapid succession, so whenever she does her mentor always ends up at a loss for words. The tense silence between them is ever-deafening when this happens, and yet Reine can never feel even a sliver of triumph or satisfaction.
Because her goal is inexplicably linked to the item she can never let go, cherishes with her entire heart – an ampoule containing a perfume concoction she has yet to know the scent.
A promise is a promise, as childish as it sounds now.
The silence seems to be stretching endlessly with no end in sight, until a dispirited sigh echoes from the man on the other end of the line.
"Do you have such little faith in me? The banquets are mere cover-ups, Descoteaux. Those people you want to herald revenge on will cling to the bait eventually."
"Especially since she will finally step onto the grand stage herself."
Reine was about to lose all her patience, until those last words were spoken with finality. She freezes in place, yet the quivering of her wide eyes and the hand grasping the phone reveal emotions she thought were already tempered and hidden away from her years of grueling training.
"… What? You mean…"
"You are still in this game, Descoteaux. Whether you like it or not, Hyacinth Desjardins must take center stage now, even with all the risks involved."