And she looked a million fucking dollars. As she came down the stairs, Hemingway almost had to scoop his jaw off the floor, only managing to compose himself as she approached, giving her a wide smile of greeting.
"Good evening, princess," he drawled, really not bothering to hide the fact that he was clearly checking her out. "Oh, you like this one? Less dumb?" he asked, smiling away. "You look beautiful," he told her after a moment, because it was true, and it was worth pointing out.