Post by Phoebe on Feb 14, 2021 5:01:18 GMT
Phoebe really had to hand it to her guardian--she was always hounding her for seeking out her father's fortune. Her attendance of this blind date fiasco was all her primary guardian's idea, Lady Helda Barbera, a tactless woman with minute sensitivity to the girl's own personal sentiments.
Worse yet, the information that was shared by the chronicler struck a terrible nerve.
No one was supposed to know my father's will!
Who could have possibly told the media of her position as an heiress? That was incredibly private information, and it was encroached on! Only a few select individuals could have leaked that knowledge!
You've really done it now if you're the one, Lady Barbera!
Her expression appeared neutral, but her skin was red with rage, teeth grinding behind closed lips, and fists gripping tightly on her thighs. Were it not for her sharing the company with her dearest companion Dormagoro, the very tavern would be ablaze from the passion of her anger. At the very least, she exhibited her restraint of her often colorful wheel of emotion.
"I apologize if I am sour from the get-go, my ol' boon," she huffed with steam exuding with her every breath, "It's not every day that my toes are stepped on. Why, they even called you a hamhock!" Her cheeks billowed with air from the audacity of the expression, "How very rude!"
Worse yet, the information that was shared by the chronicler struck a terrible nerve.
No one was supposed to know my father's will!
Who could have possibly told the media of her position as an heiress? That was incredibly private information, and it was encroached on! Only a few select individuals could have leaked that knowledge!
You've really done it now if you're the one, Lady Barbera!
Her expression appeared neutral, but her skin was red with rage, teeth grinding behind closed lips, and fists gripping tightly on her thighs. Were it not for her sharing the company with her dearest companion Dormagoro, the very tavern would be ablaze from the passion of her anger. At the very least, she exhibited her restraint of her often colorful wheel of emotion.
"I apologize if I am sour from the get-go, my ol' boon," she huffed with steam exuding with her every breath, "It's not every day that my toes are stepped on. Why, they even called you a hamhock!" Her cheeks billowed with air from the audacity of the expression, "How very rude!"
