Aurora drinks another shot of her Sapphire Martini as photographers and interviewers roam around the Paris Models Showcase, sitting on a stool from the pool bar, hidden from all the vultures and snakes the industry could birth. Every year is the same, corporate suits gather around to show their new models and their pride and joys to the press, expecting shared interest among other industries and companies. But deep down, Aurora knew that all of the fancy dressed influencers and journalists, the Brazilian walnut wooden floor, the Greek architecture blended with modern gold accents, the pure silver chandeliers and fancy bars and drinks were just smoke and mirrors.

Behind the light work and the makeup, she could really see and feel their pain, even without hearing their stories. Some of the girls on display were six, ten, even fourteen years younger than her; but the hidden lines on their faces, the soulless look on their eyes, their dead but never faltering smiles... They were a whole generation younger than Aurora, yet somehow looked just as old as her, maybe even older.

Aurora then gently shakes her head as she grabs her glass of Sapphire Martini and takes a couple of sips before returning it to the bar counter, looking away from the model display. "Ugh~ Forget it Aurora, countless people tried to change it and failed; why would you be any different?" Aurora warns herself in a quiet, almost sassy voice. "Where's Jonathan anyway? I wished that old fart was dead, but somebody's gotta take me home tonight!" Just as Aurora turns herself away from the counter to look for her husband, she spots a lonely figure heading her way; and to her annoyance and somewhat relief, it's not Jonathan. A bit drunk and enraged just by thinking about her husband, Aurora stands up from the stool, holding her Louis Vuitton handbag in her hand. "Oh fuck no! It's one of you figlio di puttana!" Aurora protests, pointing.

"Listen here bitch, how many times do i have to tell you media hyenas to leave me the fuck alone!? Aurora continues with her arms crossed under her chest, pushing them up slightly. "I've said many times in interviews and whatnot that I'm done with this shitty industry, and that I'm never going back on that decision; no matter how loudly that sorry excuse for a husband I have complains about it?" Aurora then takes one step forward, face slightly red from anger and the effects of alcohol. "You guys doing this on purpose, or were you too busy starting at my tits when I said that, like everybody else? You fucking degenerate?"

With a final angry huff, Aurora turns back to the bar, sitting down on the stool again, leaning against the counter. "Now i don't care about who you are or aren't, kindly fuck off; being in this shitshow is bad enough already."