Silver hated assigned seating with the passionate intensity usually reserved for root canals and tax audits.
The entire concept felt like social manipulation disguised as party planning—forcing people into conversations they didn't want to have with individuals they'd been carefully avoiding. It was the kind of artificial intimacy that made her skin crawl, especially when she suspected the seating arrangements had been crafted with specific romantic outcomes in mind.
Americus, naturally, lived for these moments of orchestrated chaos. She approached place card assignments like a fortune teller reading tarot cards, convinced she could "manifest" whatever social dynamics would provide the most entertainment value. Her eyes would light up with mischievous glee as she shuffled names around the table layout, calculating optimal conversation combinations and potential romantic sparks.
