A: I can’t tell if you’re lying to me or you’re that dumb
B: Excuse you? The story is moving but none of the love interest are, you know falling in love?
A: Riddle me this, whose body are you inhabiting?
B: Emily Von Zeiks.
A: And what is her role in the story?
B: The antagonist?
A: Good, now what have you been doing this entire time?
B: I’ve… oh no -- Anon Guest
There is a point in every story's creation in which the characters and their author have an argument. Since the inside of an Author's head is not the best filming location, imagine a comfortable lounge with user-adaptive furniture and optional cats. Potplants to suit, of course.
Bidelia Von Rikkette had arranged herself artistically on the chaise lounge whilst her author Ayotunde Olayinka had curled up in a basket of pillows with a minimum of three cats. There was a coffee table between them, but only for diplomatic purposes. Bidelia would rather cut her own throat than disturb a high tea setting. "I would have you know, I have several clear complaints," she sniffed, ringlets bouncing in her performative outrage.
"I'm certain you do," said Ayotunde, scritching one of her cats. "This is all about the ballroom, isn't it?"
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