“Morning, Lamar,” I call out as the man hurriedly marches down the hall, his phone to his face even as he answers me. “Morning, Madam Liastrange. You look fucking radiant, but why are we not shopping in the closet? I was just there, and you weren’t. I already know your skirt isn’t at Monroe-approved length and I don’t even have to fucking see it. Besides, I had this whole black vamp ensemble going in my head since for some crazy reason I had a dream that you were Bellatrix Lestrange. Hence the new name. Liastrange. Get it?”
