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Chapter Text

Rhysand Night stared at himself in the mirror and adjusted his violet and silver tie once more, debating for the third time if he would much rather rip it off and feign illness to get out of the night.  Who was he kidding?  Of course he would much rather feign an illness than go on a blind date.  And not just any blind date, but his first date since his horrendously abusive relationship with Amarantha.  He had no desire to start dating again despite his family’s constant pressure that he needed to get himself back out there or the bitch won.

But this wasn’t just any blind date either.  He would have, and had, turned down the dates pushed at him by his enigmatic cousin Morrigan, his adoptive brothers Cassian and Azriel, and the rare suggestion from Amren.  He had no care for any of their picks for him though he had been mildly curious about the women Azriel had thoroughly scouted for him.  The man had a way with knowing more about people than they did themselves.  In the end, he just wasn’t ready.

But this date, the date he hadn’t turned down, the date he had agonized over for the entire week and had spent the entire afternoon rearranging the outfit he had meticulously picked out, this date had been a suggestion from the most unlikely source, Feyre.

Of all the people in his family, Feyre had been the only one to truly understand the depths of the damage done to him by Amarantha.  Not only had she witnessed some of it first hand unlike the others, but she had lived through her own abusive relationship with a cohort of Amarantha’s, Tamlin.  When Rhys had finally had enough and had escaped, he had taken Feyre with him, adopted her into his supportive family, and hadn’t looked back since.  The gloriously beautiful, sarcastic, fiery female had been an easy addition to the family and a perfect verbal sparring partner for himself.  She understood him so thoroughly that sometimes he found himself wondering if she could read his mind.  Which is why he had agreed to this date.  Because Feyre had been so sure and he couldn’t say no to her bright smile.

She wouldn’t fault him, though, if he simply called her and told her to tell her friend not to show.  She would understand the extent of his nerves.  She would understand that he just wasn’t ready yet.

His hand inched towards his phone and he realized it was shaking, and a quick check of the rest of his body told him he was trembling.  Fuck.  It wouldn’t be long before he was in a full blown anxiety attack. 

“Hey Prick, all ready for tonight?  I already assured you that the outfit you picked out will be perfectly fine,”  Feyre’s voice caught him off guard and he realized it wasn’t coming from anywhere in his townhouse, but from the phone in his hand.  From the phone he had inadvertently dialed and held to his ear.

“Feyre,” he breathed out her name, unable to bring himself to find some sort of cocky purr to tease her with.

“What’s wrong?”  One word from him and she was immediately well aware he wasn’t doing well.  That was why he had called her and no one else.  “How can I help?”

“I can’t do this,” he whispered.  “I’m having a panic attack over it.”

“A real panic attack?”  She asked, her voice very serious.  She had them too, she knew them well.

“I can feel it coming,” Rhys let out a shaky breath.

“Okay,” he heard Feyre moving some things around.  “Talk to me.  Tell me what has you so worked up.”

He sorted through his thoughts while she patiently waiting for him on the other end of the phone.  “I don’t want to have to explain to another person why I’m so messed up.”  He sighed.  A true issue of dating again was having to explain why he couldn’t let just anyone touch him, why he couldn’t stand certain colors, why certain words and phrases set him into panics, why he couldn’t necessarily return affection as much as a woman might expect of him.  Many women didn’t believe a man could be abused by a woman.  Whoever it was, was going to laugh at him and be done with him immediately.

“Do you really think I would set you up with someone who didn’t understand?”  Feyre asked softly and he realized he had spoken out loud.  And the answer was no.  But that was rational and his mind wasn’t working rationally.

“Could you just call her and tell her I’m sick tonight and we can reschedule it for another night?”  Rhys asked, loosening his tie.

“Sure.  I’ll do that,” Feyre assured him instantly.  “Got another night in mind?”

“Not yet,” he scrubbed a hand over his face and realized it was still shaking.  “Feyre?”

“What else, Rhys?”  She asked softly.

“Could you come over?  I don’t want to be alone right now.  We can order pizza and watch one a movie,” he knew he was pleading but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.  Take a shower and throw on your comfiest clothes.”  That was oddly the most assuring set of words he had ever heard because his body started to calm.

“I’ll order the pizza,” he promised and then hung up.

Half an hour later, Feyre was walking through the door with an armload of his favorite soda, candy, and two pints of cookie dough ice cream.  Like him, she was dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt.  Nothing special.  Her hair was braided back and her face was perfectly clear of makeup.  And he calmed completely.  That was another great thing about Feyre.  There was never a need to put on a show from either of them for each other.  Not that she didn’t dazzle when she did dress up, but it was never to get anything from him, or anyone else for that matter.

“Your date was disappointed since she was already dressed and made up, but she was quick to agree to another night when you have one in mind.  Or lunch, or coffee, if either of those are easily on you.”  Feyre promised him as she walked past him towards the kitchen with her armload.  He didn’t have time to respond as the pizza guy followed her up the driveway with his order in hand.

They settled into the living room on opposite ends of the couch both happily digging into the pizza and soda as he started a rom com both of them had been dying to see.  But his mind wasn’t into the movie at all.  He was too busy thinking of what Feyre had offered to him.  Would something more casual like coffee or lunch be easier.  Surely neither of those were very intimate like dinner at a nice restaurant would have been.  It might take away some of the expectations that followed such a nice dinner.  They could meet, have a cup of coffee, or a salad, and then go on their merry ways if things didn’t work out.  And if they did, then dinner.  That could be easier, but then he would still have to eventually explain things to this woman if things did work out.

“What’s on your mind?”  Feyre’s voice cut through his jumbled thoughts.

“Do you think she’d be offended if I asked her to meet me for coffee instead. I know it isn’t as grand as dinner…”

“I’m sure she’d be happy with coffee.  Let me check with her,” Feyre whipped out her phone and try as he might to see whatever message she was typing away, she kept her phone turned away from him.  A few seconds later it lit up with a response.  “Do you have a day in mind?”  She turned to him.

“Monday?”  Rhys reviewed his work schedule in his mind.  He had a meeting at 10 which gave him an excuse to have to leave if things weren’t going well.  “Monday at 9?”

“Okay,” she turned back to her phone and began texting again.  A few minutes longer and the phone lit up again.  “Monday at 9, coffee.”  Feyre told him.

“Coffee, 9, Monday,” he nodded, but he felt himself tense at the words.

“Here, sit on the floor in front of me,” she pointed to the spot on the floor in front of her.  He obeyed without another thought, because it was Feyre.  And when her hands touched his shoulders, he didn’t tense like he would have with anyone else, because it was Feyre.  And the way she dug her fingers into the knots in his shoulders and back had him relaxing once more.  Feyre wouldn’t hurt him.  Feyre wouldn’t set him up with someone he couldn’t be himself with.  Feyre wouldn’t have pointed this woman at him if she hadn’t thought they wouldn’t be a good match.  He repeated those words in his head as he let her work the tension from his body while the movie droned on in front of them.

Chapter Text

Rhys buried his head in his pillow and groaned once more.  He was dying.  His head was stuffed with enough mucus that he was sure to suffocate.  And beyond that his whole body ached as if he had sparred all day against Cassian after not sparring for ten years.  He couldn’t move.  He could barely lift his head and he was dying.

“It’s just a cold, you big baby,” Mor had told him when he had called into work.  It was fine.  It was just a Monday and all he had was one meeting at 10 that could be covered.  There was nothing else he needed to worry about.  It really was the best day to feel like death had come for him of his work week.  “I’ll put it down as a severe case of man flu,” his cousin had sighed on her end of the phone and had hung up on him.

Since then he had dragged himself to the shower hoping the steam would help him decongest enough to sleep some more.  And when he felt mildly better, he had crawled back into bed to rest.

When he woke once more, the sun was low in the sky and his head felt clear enough that he seemed to have passed the worst of the cold.  So he sat up and reached for his phone that had been on silent all day to call Mor to tell her he would live, apparently.  But his eyes stopped on three missed calls and four text messages, and an event warning on his calendar for coffee at nine with his blind date.  The date he had missed and hadn’t even remembered was happening to cancel it.  And just as he suspected the missed calls were from Feyre.

“Are you running late?  Call me.”

“Come on Rhys, I worked hard to set this up.”

“You’re lucky Mor called me or I would have come to find you and kick your ass personally.  No one likes to be stood up.”

The text messages were no better and suddenly he felt like shit for a completely different reason.  He had let Feyre down by accidentally standing up her friend.  Well fuck.  He hated imagining that she would find fault with anything he had done. 

He had the phone to his ear prepared for whatever Feyre had to say to him.  She had every right to want to kick his ass.  Hell, if she wanted to drag him to the gym to use him for her self defense victim, he would do it.  Anything to make up for disappointing her.

“Well you’re alive it seems,” Feyre drawled on the other end.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice slightly more than a croak.

“Well, you sound like shit so at least that backs up your story.”  She snorted.  “I’d ask if you need soup, but Cassian was informed of your illness and began talking about traditional Illyrian remedies.  They sound unpleasant so good luck.”

Rhys grimaced.  He wouldn’t be escaping without some horrid herbal tea concoction and whatever went into Cassian’s “get well” soup.  But he was guaranteed to be better tomorrow if he ate and drank.  He personally theorized it was because the body didn’t want to be subjected to the cure anymore so it would simply push the illness out.  Mor had theorized no illness could stand being in the same body as either treatment.

As if on cue, Rhys heard his front door open and Cassian’s trademark loud voice call out that he’d be in the kitchen.  He’d definitely be at work in the morning then.

“How mad is your friend at me?”  Rhys asked finally, really hoping to know how much Feyre was pissed at him.

“She wasn’t happy this morning.  Had rearranged her morning to have coffee with you and then you didn’t show,” Feyre’s voice was flat, a bad sign.  “But once I found out you were sick, I let her know and she was slightly less angry about it.” 

“Dinner, Friday.  Please set it up for me.  I won’t chicken out this time and I’ll show up even if I’m dead.  I’ll resurrect myself simply to show up for dinner to meet this woman.  I promise on my entire collection of clothing, you have my word.”  Rhys clutched his head.  He had to do this.  Anything to make it up to Feyre.  Anything.  He could have dinner with a friend of Feyre’s.  It wouldn’t be that bad.  And at the end of the night they could part ways without any expectations just like it would have been if he had met her for coffee or lunch.

“Are you sure?”  Feyre asked.

“Yes.  I’m sure.  Please set it up and let me know what time she agrees to,” Rhys forced himself out of bed as he said it.

“Okay, I’ll let you know.  Feel better, Prick.”  Then she was gone and Rhys went off to face whatever horrible cure Cassian had whipped up for him.

Chapter Text

Rhys hadn't given himself a chance to think about his anxieties on Friday during the day.  The only thing he allowed himself to fear was disappointing Feyre once more, and that was something far worse than a date.  He didn't have to commit to more than dinner, he knew that.  A conversation, some food and wine, and he could be on his merry way.  No obligations beyond dinner.

So after work he had gone home, freshened up with a crisply tailored black suit, a tailored deep blue shirt, and a silver and black tie that brought out the flecks of silver in his eyes.  He debated knocking back a knuckle length of his finest scotch before leaving but talked himself out of the liquid courage.  He didn't need it.  Not for a date, especially not someone that Feyre had set him up with.  She wouldn't have steered him wrong.

He had chosen the restaurant and when he had told Feyre which one to send her friend to, she had snorted.  Of course he had chosen Sevenda's on the Sidra.  It was his go-to restaurant.  To normal people it was the grand five-star restaurant located on the beautiful Sidra River with sparkling lights over the water, but to him and his family, it was just their normal dining place.  They all knew the wait staff and kitchen staff by name and the hostess never asked their names upon walking in.  The only exception he made this time was stopping the hostess to explain he was waiting for a young lady and if she asked for him, to bring him back to his table.

He was early, he was well aware of that as he flagged down the waiter in his section to order a glass of wine, but being early was much better than being late and making his date think he had stood her up again.  But it also meant he had a chance for his nerves to get the better of him.

Rhys cast his gaze across the Sidra River that glistened in the dark from the view of his table and he proceeded to bury every fear that came up.  He let himself think on what the woman would be like.  If she was a friend of Feyre's she had to be somewhat like Feyre.  Artsy, comfortable, probably a smart ass with a sharp tongue that could compete with him at any verbal sparring match.  Comfortable getting her hands and every part of her dirty and sweaty doing some hard work and then gracing a gala the next day.  Someone that could enjoy dinner at Sevenda's at least once a week and not be stuck up at the same time.  Someone who wasn't intimidated or cowed by his family but thrived in that sort of environment.  Someone who--

The chair across from him was pulled out and a voluptuously beautiful platinum blonde with big sapphire blue eyes and plush lips turned down in a natural pout, though they turned into a predator's smile as she looked him over.  She was stuffed into a bejeweled pink evening gown not fully out of place in the restaurant but would have been more acceptable at prom than for dinner as an adult.  But nevertheless, she had to be someone worthwhile if Feyre had sent her.

"I believe you have been waiting for me," she broke the silence with a whiny voice that set his nerves on edge immediately.

"Hello," Rhys forced a smile.  "I didn't catch your name.  Feyre never gave it to me."

"Oh!  I'm Ianthe Priestess!  And before you ask.  I'm 26, a Gemini but I identify with being a Libra more.  I graduated from Prythian University Cum Laude in Fashion Design.  I own and run a Wedding Planning business called Ianthe's Fabulous Weddings and yes, I am of THE Priestess family."  She rattled on and Rhys blinked at the information.

He had no care of star signs.  All he knew of them was Mor sometimes played into them and Cassian knew all of them for hunting down one night stands at the clubs.  While it was interesting she had gone to college for fashion, he hated when people threw out words like Cum Laude to sound impressive like it was a resume and not a conversation.  And he certainly didn't care for shit about her relations to the Priestess Family.  They weren't necessarily an old money family but often associated themselves with big names.  Leeches, all of them.

"And how do you know Feyre?"  Rhys asked the question pressing in his mind.  How had Feyre come across Ianthe and how the hell did Feyre think she would be good for him.

"Oh... Feyre and I are old friends.  I call her Fey Fey," Ianthe shot him a girlish smile and a little giggle.  Then she turned and grabbed a passing waiter hard enough to jerk him off balance.  "Sauvingon Blanc in front of me two minutes ago or else."  Her voice turned from girlish and shrill to something that promised violence in a second.  The waiter scurried off and Rhys blinked as she turned back to him.

"Well, I suppose I should introduce myself too," Rhys offered, trying to find some sort of conversation.  "I'm Rhys--"

"You're Rhysand Night.  34 and Owner and CEO of Velaris Night Industries.  Last living member and heir of the Night Family.  Graduated Summa Cum Laude from Prythian University.  You know one of my last client's.  Perhaps you know Vivianne Winter?  I helped plan her and Kallias' wedding."  She began rattling off the details of the wedding along with other high profile clients she had planned for and all of the dirt on them that she had discovered.

Rhys tried to keep himself looking interested as he listened to her.  How the hell had Feyre been so convinced she would have been good for him.  She was tossing out terrible opinions left and right.  Called tattoos and piercings abhorrent.  Thought poorer people were unfortunate but needed to be reminded of their places.  Told the waiter he was overpaid as he brought her the glass of wine she had demanded.  And they hadn't even ordered yet mostly because she insisted that the waiter check with the chef about where the spices used in the meals were sourced from and then spoke down about the head chef using cheap ingredients to make subpar meals at five star prices.

Just when Rhys had had enough and was reaching for him phone to fake an emergency to escape.  Someone cleared their voice behind Rhys.  He turned to see the manager standing behind him with his eyes boring directly into Ianthe's.

"My apologies, Mr. Night," he started and Rhys was sure they were about to be thrown out.  "There seems to have been a mistake at the hostess stand.  Miss Priestess, this is not your table.  Let me escort you to your party."  He stepped around the table to pull the chair out for her.  Ianthe looked stunned and about ready to argue but the manager cut her off.  "Either you join your own party, Miss Priestess, or I will have to ask you to leave the restaurant."

"You're going to regret this," she growled at the man but stomped off in the direction of another table with several others in overly gaudy suits and dresses.  The epitome of how some thought wealthy people should dress at all times.

"I'm sure I will," the manager rubbed at his temples.  "I deeply apologize Mr. Night.  The mistake only came to our attention because we received a phone call from your date.  She was running severely late and apparently tried to contact your phone unsuccessfully.  It seems Miss Priestess was coming in with her party when the hostess was gossiping with one of the waitstaff about you on a blind date.  Is there any way I can make this up to you?"

Rhys shook his head at the information.  Leave it to a member of the Priestess family to take the opportunity to steal a blind date with him.  And of course he hadn't looked at his phone.  He had turned it on silent and had tucked it away anticipating giving his date his full attention and to not disturb other guests in the dining room.  He looked at it now and noticed the name on the missed calls.  Likely his date had called Feyre and she had been the relay between them.

"Just getting her away from me was more than enough," Rhys assured the manager.

"Let me bring you out an appetizer to hold you over while you wait for your date."  He turned to leave and only stopped to pick up the glass of wine Ianthe had left behind.  The manager returned with a plate of appetizers moments later and topped off his glass of wine before Rhys was left in peace again.

But Rhys was drained.  Dealing with Ianthe had already eaten up his reserves of pushing down his anxieties and nerves for the night.  He just wanted to go home where he was comfortable and with people he could handle.  He didn't want to try to entertain another nameless woman that may or may not be good for him.  He almost debated calling Feyre to tell her just to tell her friend not to come.  Not to come ever.  There was no way she would fill his requirements.  Likely no one would ever fill his requirements because he was unrealistic.

He nursed his wine trying to think of what to do when another thought hit him.  His requirements weren't unrealistic.  Yes they would be difficult to fill but somewhere in his mind he realized that the person he was envisioning in each of the situations in his mind, the person who could get dirty and dress up, the person who could be comfortable having a lazy day at home or out on the town, the person that could be a smart ass and thrive in his family... was already in his life.  And that person was-- sitting across from him when he looked up at the sound of a chair scraping lightly on the polished hardwood floors.

"I'm so sorry I'm late.  You will never believe the night I have had," Feyre announced looking grand in a deep blue cocktail gown, her golden brown hair swept to the side in bejeweled combs, and her face artfully decorated in makeup that made her storm gray blue eyes pop and her plush lips look inviting.

"Feyre," he breathed out her name like a prayer.  "You're my date?"  He couldn't keep the incredulous sound from his voice and he nearly smacked himself when she shrank back looking a bit unsure of herself.  Likely questioning her actions or validity being there.  He knew enough about her that she didn't think of herself deserving of much after her former fiance had abused her so badly.  "Why didn't you just tell me?  I could have had our food ordered already."  He turned to flag down the waiter to signal that they were ready to order.  He knew Feyre's order here like the back of his hand.

"Well, I did try to call you," she told him with a pointed look.  "But had to call the restaurant when you didn't answer."

"There's a whole story behind that, I promise.  But first, please, tell me about your night.  What won't I believe?  Did Cassian show up at your studio naked again?"  Rhys found himself reaching across the table to take her hand while he spoke.  And as Feyre launched into the story of her disastrous evening, he couldn't help but think this was going to be the perfect date and that Feyre had been right to suggest this to him.

Chapter Text

Feyre Archeron let out a deep sigh of relief as she closed the doors of her studio for the day.  As much as she loved opening her studio space to college art students to work on their studies and artwork, they were exhausting.  She wasn't that much older than them and didn't understand half the words out of their mouths sometimes.  And as much as she loved helping art students earn their degrees, it wasn't what she truly wanted to do with the space.

She wandered to the small corner she had claimed as an office, walled off with three rolling screens to protect her computer, personal belongings, and important documents from paint splatter, to go back to planning what she truly wanted to do with the space.

Yes, she loved to paint there and it served as an excellent space for her to practice her craft, but she wanted to do more.  Ever since she had been an underprivileged youth scrounging for discarded, broken pencils and scraps of used paper to sketch on, she had dreamed of a someday.  A someday that included opening her doors to underprivileged people wanting to learn, practice, or even just experience painting.  And thanks to her friends, especially her best friend Rhysand Night, she had the space and the funds to do so.

Not that she would ever tell the bastard how grateful she truly was.  He had paid some exuberant amount of money to her for some minor design consultations on his office space and website and with it she had been able to buy the studio outright, modify it to her needs, and had earned some extra cash renting space to college students for cheap.  And living with Mor had freed her of rent payments so she truly could look towards starting a nonprofit.

Rhys had been very helpful in explaining the paperwork and legal side of starting and running a nonprofit.  He had even directed her towards some grants she might be able to qualify for.  And after a long talk with Azriel the night before she had started the next phase of getting things up and running.  So now she just needed to actually get things going in the space physically.  She needed to rearrange furniture, set up tables and stools.  Needed to create a display area and a place to teach from.

The door to her studio opened and closed and Feyre shook her head.  Only the inner circle had keys to her studio to access it after it closed for the night.  She bet it was Rhys coming by to offer her a ride.

"I'll be right out," she called and stood, gathering up her laptop, papers, phone, and purse.  She looked back into her office one last time to make sure she had everything and turned back to look for Rhys.
A scream left her mouth and everything she was carrying tumbled out of her arms as her eyes landed on Cassian posed rather provocatively and completely nude in front of her empty easel.

"What in the Mother's Name do you think you are doing!?" She shrieked as she covered her eyes.  But it was no use.  The image was seared into her mind.  From his long black hair, to his rugged face, to his tattooed chest, and then... oh Cauldron, he had been standing at attention.

"I'm posing nude for you," he proclaimed calmly.

Cassian was known to get strange ideas but Feyre was fairly certain there was no way he had decided to do this on his own.  He had to have been dared.  There was no other alternative to how he had gotten that idea.

"And where would you get an idea I wanted you to pose nude for me?"  She demanded unable to remove her hand from her eyes.  

"I got it from you," Cassian's voice was so calm and assured of himself that she opened her eyes to stare at him once more, only to promptly be reminded he was naked.  She slapped a hand over her eyes.

"I did not tell you I wanted you to pose nude for me," she asserted.  Not even drunk would she ask Cassian for that.  She might have asked Rhys and his stupidly perfect face and body, if she was really drunk.  But never Cassian.

"Well, no," Cassian admitted and she heard him walking across the wood floors to be closer.  "But... I heard you talking to Azriel." He stopped right in front of her and she peeled back her fingers to confirm he was still very much naked, standing right in front of her, still standing proud.

"Can you please get dressed?"  She pleaded.  

Cassian scoffed at her.  "Don't pretend you don't like the view."  

But nonetheless he stepped away and she heard him shuffling some clothing about.  When it stopped, she pried one finger away and then two to see Cassian covering his lower half with what appeared to be a shirt.

"Pants would... ah... be uncomfortable at the moment," he told her when she gave him a pointed look.  "But I'm covered."

"And what, pray tell, did you hear me tell Azriel that made you think I needed you here nude?"  Feyre decided to ignore the urge to roll her eyes and the obvious statement about his... wingspan being at attention still.

"Well not me.  But I heard you talking to Azriel last night.  You were so hushed but I caught bits of it.  Like 'stripping down' and 'broadening your horizons' and 'paying him for his time' and then I heard mention of a life drawing session and that's drawing nude models.  So here I am.  And you don't even have to pay me for the thrill of seeing me naked!"  Cassian announced all proud of himself.

Feyre couldn't help but burst out laughing.  Cassian had taken all the wrong key words and had drawn an accurate conclusion based on them, but wrong all the same.

"And why would I ask Azriel such a thing knowing hes shy about his body?" Feyre asked, raising an eyebrow at Cassian.  

"That's why I'm here.  I didn't want you down a model and I didn't want him to suffer being uncomfortable," Cassian declared, ever the noble man.  Dumb as a box of rocks some days, but noble.

"I'm going to say this once and only once so listen closely," she made sure he was watching her close and schooled her face into the most serious mask she could muster.  "I did not and never will ask for a nude model from within the family.  Certainly not Azriel or you.  No one wants to see their brother naked!"  

"But I heard you-"

"Discussing the website I was asking him to build for me.  We discussed stripping it down to basics to get it off the ground.  Me paying him for his time in creating it.  And some of the sessions I plan on listing as classes."  She rubbed a hand over her face.

"And broadening you horizons?" Cassian demanded.  "What was that one about?"

"I was paraphrasing some inspirational crap Rhys spewed while telling me I should take the plunge and start my nonprofit," she kept her face blank.  She did not need him thinking she was kidding and just didn't want him there naked.  That would be a very Cassian thought and would encourage him to show up again.

"Hey Feyre, I just wanted to see if you were in to go over plans for your web-- ARGH!  WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!!!!!"  

Cassian stepped aside of blocking her vision of the door to expose Azriel standing there holding his laptop case over his face mock gagging.  Feyre lost her battle to stay serious then and there.  She burst into laughter unable to hold in the absurdity of the entire scenario any longer.