Rainer & OPEN.
Patrolling the food area. Yep. That’s exactly what she was doing, and anyone that had something to say about that could just kiss her ass. Actually, that was too intimate. They could kiss the bottom of her boot--erm, heel (“stiletto, Rainer!” she could hear her uncle correcting her for days)--for mouthing off.
Yes, currently she was inspecting the hell out of The Best Chocolate Cake, and she regretted fucking nothing as she took her first bite of it. She deserved it, right? Putting up with pompous rich people and motherfucking Death Eaters all night. Former or not, Rainer still lumped them all into the category of ‘Evil Assholes’ forever.
Oh, bloody hell. She didn’t notice the ice cream set up right next to the cake. Okay. ...One scoop. She could fucking handle this without looking like a moron. One scoop and...
Plop. Right on the fucking dress. No shit. It barely missed falling into her tits (which she would’ve been grateful for in this case because at least that was HIDDEN) - oh no, it dripped straight onto the front of her chest, and Rainer was half frowning, half glaring at the defiant sweet threatening to stain her dress. Well. Fuck. Now she looked like a bloody idiot, cake in one hand, fork in the other, large WHITE spot of ice cream on her black dress, resting dead center between both.