The Kinght of Fashion

Amara was still in Elara's apartment, sitting stiffly on the couch as Elara continued her subtle little plan. Elara was leaning in, all casual smiles and gentle touches, making it clear that she wasn't backing down on whatever game she had in mind. Amara, of course, was completely lost. One moment they were practicing scripts, and the next, Elara was practically glued to her side, offering another too-long hug.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay longer?" Elara's voice was honey-sweet, but Amara could sense the underlying challenge. Or maybe she was just paranoid.

"No, I, uh, need to head back to the manor," Amara said, standing up a little too quickly. She was pretty sure if she stayed any longer, she'd either combust from awkwardness or get roped into whatever weird scheme Elara was cooking up. Or both.

Elara smiled, like she'd won some kind of unspoken battle. "Alright then. Goodnight, Amara. I'll see you tomorrow."