[🏠︎] kitchen.

"I'll be taking this, thank you very much."

In any other scenario, Nayeon would've probably rolled her eyes and filed the tattooed jackass away into her "has one brain cell" drawer. Yet, jet-lagged and socially overstimulated, her brain seemed to instead find the comment - and the nasty impression of an accent - actually... funny. For a moment, she just stared. Then, without any sense of dignity - all of that had left her body during her ridiculously long flight with a crying baby, a puking service dog and someone eating garlic nuts right behind her - she burst out laughing.

"Darling, that impression sounded like your brain couldn't decide if you're from South London or Edinburgh. We'll work on that, if you want to ever pick up ladies at the grocery store with a fake accent", she chuckled, finally having calmed down enough to get words out in Korean, yet her slight accent bled into the words despite her best efforts. Instantly, she felt heat rising to her cheeks, her shoulders drawing to her neck ever so slightly. "God, I really need a nap. But it seems like we're having a welcome party."

returning back to the kitchen, seungwoo for the x-amount of time that evening, returns to the espresso machine, beginning to clean up the area around him. he dumps out the used espresso in the portafilters, gives the steam wand another purge, wiping it clean. he wipes the counter clean with a dishtowel, running it under some hot water to rinse, before wringing it out. thirsty, seungwoo then grabs an empty glass, filling it up with cold water from the smart fridge. he then takes a few gulps of it on the spot.

As Taejoon watches people begin to drift toward different corners of the house, he takes it as his chance to step away and explore the place himself. Though he’s a bartender at the club, today is his day off, and he has no obligation to mix drinks—especially when the girl who brought the mimosas seems more than capable of handling things on her own.

He leans back slightly, letting his gaze wander over the lively scene. The air is still buzzing with conversation, lively chatter spilling from small groups scattered around the room. His eyes settle on one final indulgence—a perfectly sliced square of fudge. With a satisfied hum, he reaches for it, savoring the richness as he takes a bite, allowing himself this small pleasure before moving on.

Taejoon clears his throat dramatically before speaking in an exaggeratedly bad British-English accent.

"I'll be taking this, thank you very much."

Clearly poking fun at himself as he directs his words toward the one who brought the treat, smiling at her. His performance earns him a few amused glances, but he doesn’t linger to bask in any reactions. Instead, he grabs his iced matcha latter before slipping out the door that leads from the kitchen.

While most of the guests remain inside,Taejoon finds himself craving something else for once—fresh air and a little quiet. The thought settles easily in his mind, so without hesitation, he makes his way toward the backyard.

the kitchen was getting more packed, with one talking over another another, aiko could barely catch seonhye’s reply to her. aiko excuses herself as she passes through the few of them just so she can reach seonhye. As she standing by the entrance alongside the other, she picks up the sound of the front door opening. following seonhye, she too, peeks her head out from the kitchen, before she can even greet her, she watches her stumble sightly. “oh dear!” aiko whispers softly to no one in particular, thankfully nothing happens. “welcome!” aiko greets, holding her hands towards the rest in the kitchen. aiko’s about to offer the new comer something cold to drink, but to her amusement, it seemed like she had already picked one.

turning her focus back to the entrance, stood another lady that was following behind her, “hello to you too!” aiko chirps, waving her empty hand in her direction. she watches as the girl greets before leaving towards the living area. while it puzzled aiko slightly, she could not deny the kitchen was getting just a tad bit crowded, it was also the reason she wanted to tour the place.

just in time, aiko hears the familiar voice of seonhye again, and she acknowledges with a smile, “wait, i’ll follow!” grabbing her glass of ice matcha latte from the counter, she follows behind seonhye towards the living room.

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at the sound of the front door being swung open with a bang, seonhye startles and reflexively shuffles to peer out the kitchen, just in time to witness a woman catching herself mid-stumble. she's about to ask if she's alright, but she doesn't get a chance to before the other changes the topic. she's smiling but her cheeks are red, and seonhye's not going to inquire further because she's been in that position before. moving on!

the woman makes a beeline toward the mimosas which makes her chuckle, and then she turns to look at the other girl who followed. she smiles, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgement and watching her walking away and settling in the living room. was she shy or did she want to be alone? seonhye decides it wouldn't hurt to find out, but she should probably tell aiko first so latter doesn't think she was left behind. "aiko-nim . . . ? the kitchen is getting a bit crowded and i know a few people are scattered around the house. i'm going to talk to them, but take your time and find me in the living room when you want to tour, okay?"

and with that, she wanders out of the kitchen with her mug in hand.

it's his turn to raise his eyebrow at seonhye. her comment is redundant and states the obvious; that a latte is /hot/. seungwoo mentally sums it up to her being eccentric—maybe seonhye has a 4d personality. her words weren't the only thing that is odd about her however, as seungwoo feels as if she looks familiar. at a distance, he hadn't noticed earlier, but now, in direct line of sight and in closer proximity, he felt as if he had seen seonhye somewhere previously; before the show. despite her oddities, seungwoo can't help but crack a small smile when she remembers his name. someone is an attentive listener.

"impressive? me? no, i'm just an amateur." seungwoo then says, returning to his conversation with taehoon. "ristretto, i got you." he adds, as he's rinsing out the portable milk frother in the sink. he then tends to the other male contestant's espresso, cleaning out the portafilter, filling it before brewing. "just a ristretto? nothing else right?" he confirms.

even more people show up. another guy that looks like a lethargic giraffe in a pilot uniform drags in, disappearing after a mere greeting. then, the girl who brought the matcha asks to tour the house. seungwoo notices that her korean has the slightest japanese accent, but in the barest minimum. he wonders if that's why she has matcha powder originating from japan. he also wonders where in japan she's from. her and a few other of the contestants seemed like they studied abroad or were foreigners, as seungwoo thinks he remembers overhearing someone saying something about the uk as well. seonhye crosses his vision again, accompanying aiko out of the room.

just then a shriek could be heard from the front of the house, startling seungwoo internally. he's unsure if the scream was a call of distress or excitement. he wants to peer out of the kitchen to make sure, but a seemingly bubbly blonde-haired girl enters first, followed shortly by another blonde. it's as if their entrances were purposefully set up one after the other, as the later blonde-haired girl is completely opposite to the prior, in terms of their fashion, persona and temperament. their only visible common ground was their paler complexion and blonde hair. it's clear that the latter is younger (he suspects gen z), judging solely by the headphones around her neck. but maybe he's just that old and a bit of a boomer.

"ristretto." he says, putting the espresso cup before taehoon. seungwoo dumps the used portafilter, then gives it a quick rinse, before walking out of the kitchen. he looks to the front foyer down the hall, nobody was there—nobody seemingly in distress. he then looks the other way, catching the retreating backside of the suspected gen z girl. he follows after the suspected gen z girl, curious as to if she's okay.

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minji touched up her makeup before sinking into her nintendo switch, her spotify playlist blaring through bass-heavy headphones. it was the perfect distraction from her nerves, working so well that she started dozing off in the passenger seat. if not for her sister snapping her back to reality and pulling her suitcase from the trunk, she would have slept through the ride and completely missed her entrance to the show.

“byeee! thanks for the ride!” she called, stifling a yawn as she waved her sister off. with her device and an open energy drink can in one hand, she slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and pulled her suitcase toward the entrance.

ahead of her, a girl stumbled but managed to catch herself at the last second. minji barely had time to register it before stepping through the doorway a minute later, setting her luggage against the wall where the others had left theirs. judging by the voices inside, she was painfully aware that she must've been one of the last to arrive.

switching into house slippers and walking further inside, she pulled her headphones down around her neck and glanced at the faces in the room. “hey,” she greeted with a small smile, bowing slightly before trailing off in a quieter tone, “sorry i’m a little late.”

the kitchen was only so big, and with several people already hanging out there, she made her way toward the living room instead.

She was late. Fashionably. As always.

Yura had missed her stop on the transit—/again/—too caught up in the middle of a doodle she had drawn on the backside of the NDA form for the show. Inspiration often struck at the worst, or best, times. But by the time she received a call from production asking where she was, she nearly threw herself out of the subway cart in panic, only to realize she was already four stops too far and in the middle of the lunch rush hour.

"Oh, —" she muttered, stuffing her sketch into her bag before nearly tumbling over her overloaded suitcase. 

She had packed at least two month's worth of questionable apparel, having been unsure if she needed the sequined jumpsuit she had bought on wholesale, or the cowboy boots one of her sorority sisters had expeditedly shipped from Texas, or even that one pair of jeans that gave her just the right amount of lift. Aesthetic emergencies were real, and she was going to be on a tv show for the world to see. Of course she needed to be extra prepared.

Thankfully, she had managed to hail a cab. By the time she arrived at the front steps of the house, she could already hear the commotion of conversation inside. Still, Yura made no rush to enter just yet. She was out of breath, slightly disheveled, and she couldn’t erase the fact that she was obviously not off to a good start.

However, this was no big deal, right? She just needed to act natural and be cool… and she was cool, right? Well, of course, but now she had to make up for lost time.

Taking a deep breath, she swung open the door and confidently stepped inside… only to immediately trip over the edge of the doorway. With a shriek, Yura stumbled, though she barely caught herself on the threshold instead of falling flat on her face.

What an entrance. Maybe they'll edit it out... and if not, she hoped the footage of her entrance gets destroyed somehow.

She straightened up and let out an awkward chuckle before finally speaking. "Sorry, am I late?"

Though her face was rather flushed, she kept grinning as if nothing had happened. "Traffic was a nightmare. But it’s better to be late than never, or better late than getting lost. ANYWAYS, hel—Oooh, mimosas.”

Yura left her overstuffed suitcase by the entrance, giving herself a mental reminder to get it later as she joined the others.

Mid-purge, he nods in approval at Seungwoo's answer. "Impressive," he replies. "If it's not too much, I'd like a ristretto but if you have plans to join everyone else, I'll ask the matcha twins over there." Taehoon's head gestures in the direction of Taejoon and the woman who brought the matcha from Japan. Just as he does so, two others make their way into the kitchen, and he looks over at the both of them. A curious brow raises his expression as the woman reaches into her purse and pulls out a champagne bottle and a carton of orange juice. Who carries around such things in their purse?

"oh, that's hot," she says as she grabs the mug from his hands. it takes a second for her to interject again after registering her own words, "the latte, i mean. thank you so much . . . seungwoo-ssi? the heart is adorable."

seonhye hopes that's his name. it would be really embarrassing for her if not, but context clues seemed to confirm it was. she flashes him a grateful smile before he turns away and then she turns toward the new arrival with curious eyes. "woah, mimosas? unfortunately i'll have to pass this time, but can i raincheck for a nice brunch next time? hehe."

when the next person comes in—incheon, did he say?—she doesn't really get a chance to say anything to him as he makes his intro and then disappears again. oh well! aiko, she assumes, speaks up next and asks a question that she's been wondering too. "i came into the kitchen as soon as i arrived, so i haven't explored the house yet. do you want to? i'll go with you!"

aiko’s gaze sweeps across the kitchen as she silently munches on her egg tart, occasionally sipping on her latte before a little light bulb goes off in her head. “have we all gathered here the moment we arrived?” she tilts her head a little, her words not directed to anyone in specfic. “anyone explored the house yet?”

he's severely jet-lagged, having just finished a flight from lax. as soon as he enters, his ears pick up on the soft echoes of people talking. trudging in with his suitcase, he debates on what to do; stealthily pass by and go upstairs so he could freshen up, or to make a short appearance, and then call it a night. his introverted self chooses the latter.

following the hall, he walks until he sees them all—the other contestants. bowing his head, he greets them. "hello. my name is geum incheon. nice to meet you." feeling awkward at the dying volume of the gathering, he clears his throat softly. "sorry, i'm just going to freshen up and uh- change... as you can see, i'm not dressed for the occasion." he states, looking down at his uniform—the standard for his airline's dress code. "i'll be right back." with another bow, he exits out, striding towards the stairwell.

with the influx of new people, he doesn't get to confirm the temperature of her latte. seungwoo decides to just give it to her hot. after all, the latter had never specified, and a latte was simply a hot drink consisting of steamed milk and an espresso shot. uncrossing his arms and straightening up his posture again, he gets back to his job; continuing to play barista.

he brews more espresso, working efficiently and quickly, as if he's worked at a busy cafe before. seungwoo then uses the steam wand, it's sudden use making a hissing noise that adds another level of white noise onto the bustling backdrop of the convening contestants. steaming the milk to effortless perfection, seungwoo delicately angles the latte cup, pouring carefully into the rounded latte mug that contains the freshly brewed ristretto. the drink is finished, topped with a heart latte art. seungwoo brings the cup forth again, letting its intended owner know that her drink is being served. "caution. hot— latte."

next is the improvised mocha—or in this case, dirty hot chocolate. there wasn't any chocolate syrup—he had to come up with something else; hot chocolate powder mix. it was on one of the kitchen cabinet's shelves, but however, he wanted his own drink as well. "i'll take the extra matcha, thanks." seungwoo expressed, with a raise of his hand.

just then, someone to his right approached him, hovering by him. seungwoo turned in their direction at the sound of his name. "hey. nice to meet you as well." he greeted back. "both; self-taught and i used to work at a cafe."seungwoo told the other, giving the milk steamer another steam, as he wiped it down with a clean cloth. his hands were moving speedily, promptly preparing to make his next drink. with everything primed, running and brewing, seungwoo excused himself, departing the machine and darting past taehoon to get the hot chocolate mix. "sorry, i'll be right back." for this drink, he's using the automated, portable milk frother, and not the steaming wand, as the automatic milk frother would ensure that the powder would get mixed evenly, without the milk getting burnt.

hearing the milk frother finish, seungwoo grabs yet again, another mug with another ristretto shot. he pours the hot chocolate into the mug. the drink is complete, but seungwoo feels like there's a missing touch. his eyes fixate on the island kitchen table filled with various snacks—croissants, cakes, egg tarts, fudge. "perfect." he says to himself, before heading over, grabbing a butter knife along the way en route. reaching the fudge, he cuts off a small piece into a napkin and then strides back to where the dirty hot chocolate is sitting. seungwoo cuts the small piece of fudge into a heart as best he can, before making a little notch into it. using he notch he hangs it on one side of the mug. "done. dirty hot chocolate—or an improvised mocha." he states.

the sharp slam of a taxi door disrupts the serene sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves, courtesy of monica moon making her grand exit in a rush. the driver’s not amused by her dramatics, a scowl apparent on his face. she meets it with one of her own, arching perfectly sculpted bow. “the door’s /fine/. frankly, i’d be more concerned about that speedometer. i could've walked here faster,” she remarks, voice laced with sugar-coated disdain. with that, she pivots on her jimmy choos pumps and strides toward the sharehouse entrance.

inside, she quickly sets her luggage down with the others in the foyer, pointedly ignoring the provided house slippers on the floor. instead, she slips into her own pair of kitten-heeled slippers, her personal armor of choice for the battle ahead. the rhythmic click of her heels against the floor draws a self-satisfied smile on her lips as she steps into the kitchen.

“well, isn't this quite the spread?” the way monica’s gaze flickers between the contestants, it’s abundantly clear that she’s not referring to the impromptu potluck. she takes a mental tally of the current gender ratio—clearly skewed in a certain direction thanks to her arrival.

/interesting.../

“snacks, pastries, and an excess of caffeine. and yet, something seems missing,” she remarks, tapping her chin in exaggerated contemplation. there's a mischievous glint in her eyes as she reaches into her prada leather tote and takes out a bottle of champagne along with a carton of orange juice.

“mimosas, anyone?”

Nayeon lingered at the edge of the kitchen, amusement flickering in her gaze as she watched the others move around the space with the easy, unspoken rhythm of people already halfway to knowing each other. It was the kind of scene that felt lived-in, despite the artificial gloss of cameras and first impressions.

Still grinning to herself, she crouched and ped her bag, fishing out a few packets of handmade fudge, assorted chocolate bars and a tin of shortbread. She set them next to the assortment of snacks already gathered on the counter - a strange, unintentional buffet.

"Thought I’d add a little UK touch”, she said, dusting off her hands as she straightened. She leaned casually against the counter, her gaze sweeping across the group. “I’m Nayeon, by the way. Didn’t want to just materialize in the kitchen like some kind of snack-bearing ghost.”

He can see the other male approaching in his peripheral and when he reaches them, Taehoon lifts his gaze to look at him, a brow gently cocked in question. "Likewise," he states simply, giving a curt glance at Taejoon's outstretched hand. "'Though I hardly see that happening, Taejoon." A gentle smirk perks up at one corner of his lips before he turns his attention back to the other male, Seungwoo. "Do you have experience working in a café or are you self-taught?" he asks, nodding perfunctorily at the espresso machine.

"Aiko.... aiko, that's a cute name."

Taejoon smiles faintly as he pours the matcha into a glass already filled with ice and oat milk, stirring it until the colors blend smoothly. He finishes it off with a metal straw he retrieved from one of the drawers before handing the drink to the girl who had kindly brought them all matcha from Japan. Only after she takes hers does he finally pour a serving for himself.

By the time he finishes pouring himself his iced matcha latte, there's still some left. Rather than letting it go to waste, he pours the remainder into an extra glass and carries it over to where the other treats are neatly arranged on the counter.

"I made extra for anyone who wants it..."

He says before taking an egg tart from Seonhye and biting into it.

"Wow this is good! As for my commute, I almost got lost.. never been great with naver maps really. Thankfully, I got here on time."

Taejoon comments, his head instinctively turning toward the newcomers, a smile tugging at his lips as one girl mentions food being the main motivator. Everyone here seemed like an interesting character in their own way.

As one of the men approaches another, Taejoon quickly pops the rest of his small egg tart into his mouth before following suit, making his way toward them.

"Wow, your name is Taehoon? I'm Taejoon. We have a one letter difference. Lets hope we don't confuse the rest of the participants. Nice to meet you."

A mischievous glint flickered in Taejoon's eyes as he extended a hand toward Taehoon, letting it linger in the air unshaken. When the latter makes no move to take it, Taejoon simply retracts it, unfazed. Rather than taking it as an insult, he turns on his heel and strolls back toward his iced matcha latte—and the girl who had brought the matcha.

"Interesting crowd for sure. Everyone seems so nice."

"What you make will surely be 100 times better than anything I can make," he argues before biting into the croissant. It's perfectly buttered and flaky, just the way he enjoys them. "And you are right, Yeonah. These are the best croissants I've ever tried thus far. You'll have to let me know where you got them." He offers her a slight smile in acknowledgement before he walks away with his croissant in the direction of the male hovering over the coffee station (Seungwoo). "Hi. You're Seungwoo, right? Pleasure to meet you, I'm Taehoon. I heard you're making coffee."

having just arrived seoul that morning, aiko couldn’t bring much, instead she had brought two can of premium matcha from her hometown — hopefully, matcha was an all time favourite.

thankfully, it was put to good use when someone searches for it. she promptly handles it to the other with a bright grin, one that mirrored his.

“aiko. aiko miyoshi. it’s nice to meet you taejoon.”

she watched as the male takes containers from her before raising her hand at his offer. “one for me too! i like myself a good cup of matcha latte.”

Leaning against the counter, she waited for her cup of ice matcha latte to be done.

As another male walks in, she gives a brief wave of her hands, then to the other lady who followed shortly behind. A chuckle leaving her lips at her comment.

“they say the way through a man’s heart is the stomach, i suppose.”

It’s not long before she hears another lady’s voice at the entrance of the kitchen and the delicious smell of baked goodies.

“croissants and egg tarts! just the perfect pairing for coffee and lattes.” She commented as taejoon hands her the glass of iced matcha latte. “Thank you. We have quite a nice crowd, don’t we!”

She momentarily gets distracted from her current conversation by the offers of the different foods and drinks... but most especially, the egg tarts. "Don't mind if I do," she chuckles, excusing herself quickly to spritz alcohol from the tiny spray bottle dangling from her shoulder bag onto her hands, rubbing them whilst returning to her previous spot and reaching into the box of the proffered tarts, sending Taehoon a sheepish smile. "Sorry, couldn't resist—and I do! Granted, I've been doing meal preps for the past few months ever since my workload increased, but it's cooking nonetheless, is it not? I'm no expert, though, so maybe curb your expectations a liiiittle bit," she grins, turning her head away to bite into the pastry, her satisfaction made known through the tiny noise of contentment she lets out.

"Sorry, I only brought my appetite," he jokes dryly to the group, taking in the offered foods and drink-making commotion. Taehoon reaches for a napkin before choosing a croissant and an egg tart from the other box and turning his attention back to Yeonah. "Do you cook most of your meals yourself, living alone since 18 and all? You must be an expert at cooking. I could learn a thing or two from you."

Yeonah blinks at the sudden offer, but then a her grin only widens as she nods in response. "Sure, why not? That sounds feasible enough. And to answer your question: yep, I've been living alone since I was 18—I'd like to think I'm pretty well-versed around the kitchen by now," she steps away from the table, holding her arm out to the pastries in offering as she once again looks around the room. "I'm Yeonah, by the way; Baek Yeonah. It's a pleasure meeting you too, Taehoon."

“oh?” seonhye replies, quirking an eyebrow up at his comment before he clarifies. “oh. yes. yes, i am hot. i, uh, jogged a little on my way here because i was worried everyone was waiting on me. heh. i’ll—”

that’s when she hears another woman’s voice echo from the living room. expectantly, she stops speaking and turns her head to look at the door curiously, the smile on her lips brightening once she comes into view.

she’s about to greet the newcomer when another one comes into view, and then another one, and another one, and another one. the entrance train seemingly does not end and all she can do is keep smiling and offering a small wave to everyone coming in. at the final count, the numbers seem to be even with four men and four women (including her!).

“hello, hello! it’s so nice to see everyone! i hope everyone had a good commute here? i think we’re still waiting on more people so we just gathered in the kitchen for snacks! someone’s making coffee, someone’s making matcha, and now we have croissants and cake!”

reaching behind her for the box she brought earlier, she holds it out for the others. “and i brought egg tarts! if anyone wants.”

"You cook? Maybe we could cook together one of these days?" he suggests with a genuine curiosity, walking over closer to her—and to where she ultimately places the box of croissants. "I'm Taehoon, Choi Taehoon. Nice to meet you..?" he trails, waiting for her to answer with her name in reply.

At the question, Yeonah offers the stranger a rueful smile. "I wish I did; while I do cook, my schedule today just didn't permit home-baked goods." She trudges closer and places the box atop the table, unlacing the ribbon holding it together in the process. "I can guarantee these are the best croissants you'll ever try, though."

Taehoon perks up at the mention of croissants from the latest person to enter the room, and he turns to look over at her. She's pretty when she smiles, he thinks to himself before he speaks, "One for me. Did you bake them yourself?"

Yet another ping has Yeonah wincing as she makes her way down to the basement-level parking of the hospital, the momentary lapse in her otherwise-serene expression making her offer an apologetic bow towards the cameraman and the writer accompanying her; they wave her blunder off, and she promptly takes her phone out to pull up the window containing the contestants' group chat, making sure to angle the screen enough so that they get actual content.

Yeonah types out a quick reply to the query about her coffee preferences—is it a mocha if it doesn't have chocolate syrup? She's no barista, for crying out loud—before pocketing the device and heading straight for her car. Mentally, she calculates if she has enough time to drop by her favorite coffee shop before heading to the show's location, decides she's late anyway so why not get those croissants as promised, and starts the car. The drive over was relatively smooth-sailing, the last dregs of commuter rush slowly dwindling as the sun slowly sets over the horizon. Yeonah quietly enters the nondescript establishment and sheepishly informs the owner that she's filming for a show, carefully picking out an assortment of pastries that she immediately pays for before setting off once again.

The remaining trip was quick, and before long, she has a mic shoved into the lapel of her dress (one that she had haphazardly put on after that 6-hour long procedure), her face retouched by a standby makeup artist (which is insane work, she thinks; she'd often thought participants for these kinds of shows just somehow showed up effortlessly pretty and that she was gonna be the one to break the cycle), and then she's being ushered into the house.

She quickly deduces that they've all gathered in the kitchen, and so she heads straight there after leaving her luggage in the living room, quietly knocking against the wall to announce her arrival right after the jovial quip of the woman who arrived just before her. "Hello there," she starts with a smile, her eyes trained warily onto the other contestants' faces. "I wouldn't blame the others; food /is/ literally life, after all." With that, she raises the box of pastries in her right hand. "... Croissants, anyone?"

The drive up to the mansion had been longer than Nayeon expected, really. She sat in the backseat, fingers drumming against the leather of her suitcase, trying not to let nerves settle too deep in her chest. It was just a show, she reminded herself. Just a few weeks of cameras, scripted dates - and the inevitable tension that came with throwing strangers into a house under the pretense of romance.

When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of the mansion, she exhaled. The house was beautiful in the way these things always were - grand but sterile, the kind of place designed to look expensive rather than lived in. A crew member ushered her out, mic already in hand and she plastered on a smile as they attached it to her dress.

“Everyone’s in the kitchen”, they told her. “You can head straight in.”

Of course they were.

The kitchen was already alive with movement when she stepped inside. The scent of something floral and earthy mingled with conversation, as though everyone was still feeling out their roles. No one noticed her at first and for a brief second, she just watched, a voyeur in her own scene.

Then she dropped her suitcase a little harder than necessary, the sound cutting through the chatter.

“Wow”, she said, slipping easily into a grin. “Guess we all know what the real motivation is here. Not love, not money… just food.”