Private It's always HOT in Sommer

[Sommer Dai]

The glass walls of Sommer's office glowed with the ambient light of the Gilded Veil's stage below, casting prismatic bands across the plush carpet. Sommer sat behind her crescent-shaped desk, fingers drumming lightly against the polished surface. The hum of music and distant laughter filtered up from the floor, a reminder that tonight's performance was about to begin.

She tapped the desk's comm panel. "Chelsee Gray to Sommer Dai's office—now, please."​

 

[Chelsee Gray]

Seconds later, the door whished open, and Chelsee slipped inside like a shadow in motion. Her pale eyes held a flicker of surprise at the private summons, but she offered a graceful curtsy. Behind her, the faint clink of costume accessories followed each step.

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer rose, smoothing the front of her jacket. Her smile was warm, genuine. "Chelsee—thank you for coming up."

 

[Chelsee Gray]

Chelsee closed the door behind her and folded her hands in front of the crimson ensemble she'd chosen for the night's "Midnight Bloom" piece. "Of course, my Lady. You sounded urgent."

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer gestured to one of the desk's low chairs. "Please, sit." She patted the edge of the seat. "I wanted a moment before you take the stage."

 

[Chelsee Gray]

Chelsee sank into the chair with the poise of someone accustomed to both reverence and scrutiny. The glow from the stage cast patterns on her obsidian outfit, giving her almost vampiric allure.

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer leaned forward, eyes kind but earnest. "I've been thinking about you—and all of us—every dancer here. You bring something unique to the Veil. I want to hear it from you: how does it feel, being in these lights? How does it feel, wearing these wings every night?"

 

[Chelsee Gray]

Chelsee's lips curved in a thoughtful smile. She lifted one pale hand, tracing the hem of her skirt absentmindedly. "It's… freedom, in a way I never knew I craved. Each performance peels away another layer of who I used to be—the secrets, the masks, the quiet fears." She met Sommer's gaze steadily. "Here, on that stage, I become what the music and your vision demand. I'm powerful. I'm seen."

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer nodded, heart swelling. "And does it ever scare you? To show so much of yourself?"

 

[Chelsee Gray]

Chelsee's smile softened, vulnerability flitting across her features for the briefest instant. "Always. But then I remember: this is my truth. And your Veil is the only place I trust enough to share it."

 

[Sommer Dai]

Silence settled between them—the weight of confession, the bond of trust. Sommer reached across the desk and squeezed Chelsee's hand. "Thank you. Tonight, when you dance 'Midnight Bloom,' know that you carry more than choreography—you carry every story we've built here."

 

[Chelsee Gray]

Chelsee rose, regal once more. "I will make it count."

 

[Sommer Dai]

As she turned, Sommer added quietly, "Break a leg—just not literally."

Chelsee's laugh, soft and melodic, followed her out of the office. Sommer watched her go, chest warm with pride, then turned back to the window overlooking the stage. The first notes of the overture began. Tomorrow, the world might spin with chaos—but tonight, at the Gilded Veil, every dancer would soar.

 

[Arq*]

The door hadn't even finished closing when it burst back open with a flourish of gold silk, jangling jewelry, and electric panic.

Arq.

"SOMMER!" he hissed in a dramatic stage whisper, the kind that carried through walls. "He's here. He's actually here. I saw him. Tall. Pale. Black-on-black-on-bloodred. He walked in like he owned the place—like it was built for him!"

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer turned from the glass window, arching a brow but staying composed. "Arq, darling, breathe."

 

[Arq*]

"No—don't tell me to breathe!" Arq fluttered dramatically toward her desk like a silk-wrapped storm cloud. "I've been around creeps, killers, ex-lovers, Sith Lords, and politicians—sometimes all at once—but this one? This one is different. It's Baird Throne."

He paused for effect, one jeweled hand against his temple.

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer's brow furrowed, the name clicking into place like a half-forgotten scent. "Baird Thorne...?"

 

[Arq*]

Arq nodded feverishly. "The Baird Throne. They say he's some kind of vampire-demon, or whatever ancient nonsense crawled out of the Outer Rim's worst ghost stories. He doesn't cast reflections, Sommer. And I checked the mirrored column—he has no reflection. That's a space-goth red flag if I've ever seen one!"

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer exhaled slowly. Calm. Focused. Regal. "Arq…"

 

[Arq*]

"No, no, listen!" Arq clutched both sides of her desk. "I'm telling security we're going into full lockdown. No guests leave, no girls on the floor, we seal the Veil down tighter than a Zeltron's diary. And if he makes a move, we hit the lights and hit him hard—"