Athena walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a short towel that barely behaved itself, another towel twisted around her head like a crown.
The air smelling faintly of lavender.
She stopped short when she saw Azrael.
The great alpha of the south was in the middle of her closet like a man on a mission or a man possessed. Each one suits him.
Her dresses were everywhere. On the bed. On the chair. On the floor. One was dangling from his arm, another clutched in his fist as he muttered to himself like the fate of the world depended on sequins and fabric cuts.
"No, no, absolutely not," he said, tossing a perfectly fine dress over his shoulder. "This one is too soft. I want something that says I arrived and everyone else should go home."
Athena blinked. Why was he giving Felicia's vibe tonight?
"…Are you okay?" she asked slowly.
