"Technically," Hasibe says, so deliberately pedantic it goes around to ridiculous, "the VIP room is about forty feet in the air."
There's no actual visible reaction to that exchange between Ilde and Ivan just now, but certainly the sense that she was observing, and she will dutifully refrain from telling Ivan that that right there is why Ilde shouldn't dress young in his company, but the amused thought exists.
"Follow me. The VIP room is everyone's favorite here--well, besides the one with the red door."
The one with legal waivers you have to sign to get into because sometimes they secretly make snuff films in it, yes. It's quite an establishment Hasibe's found herself in. She turns to make her way to the staircase, the glittering glorified underwear that she's wearing oddly similar to the Ctenophora's styling. Might have been deliberate.
no subject
There's no actual visible reaction to that exchange between Ilde and Ivan just now, but certainly the sense that she was observing, and she will dutifully refrain from telling Ivan that that right there is why Ilde shouldn't dress young in his company, but the amused thought exists.
"Follow me. The VIP room is everyone's favorite here--well, besides the one with the red door."
The one with legal waivers you have to sign to get into because sometimes they secretly make snuff films in it, yes. It's quite an establishment Hasibe's found herself in. She turns to make her way to the staircase, the glittering glorified underwear that she's wearing oddly similar to the Ctenophora's styling. Might have been deliberate.