Work Text:
“Out the way, doll,” is what that says as he forces himself through the small crowd and pushes Velvette aside like she’s some powerless nobody.
Velvette straightens up again and fixes her clothes. None of the people working for her know what to expect at that moment as she watches the guy go on to sit in the front row of her runway show. Velvette considers her options and what sort of headlines she is willing to make. Her assistant is jogging across the room to reach her and, although she’s not the forgiving kind, they are running on a tight schedule here, so she must prioritize tasks.
Velvette is quick to switch back into her business mindset, and it takes just a couple of seconds for her people to get past the shock of such a chill reaction from her. No one dares ask and no one wants to become the punching bag after that, so everyone follows her instructions to perfection.
Velvette will take nothing less.
Velvette is blunt because she refuses to waste her time with niceties that get nothing done. She worked hard for her power, and she doesn’t really see the point on playing up to some dickheads who will bring nothing to the table. She doesn’t get on her knees for just anyone and, being all honest, she’s not even fond of doing that much when someone actually gets her willing to.
Runway sorted out, models getting ready and Velvette has exactly ten minutes to deal with that rude loser. She’s not letting go of it because she did not get this far letting people walk all over her. No one bats an eye as she walks in his direction; the cunt still thinking himself so important that he doesn’t even look up at her. Her models are aware that Velvette has a sharp tongue, but the ones that are aware of the damage she can make are really around anymore, are they?
Everyone is holding their breath. Press is starting to fill in their seats.
Velvette is not really the sort of overlord to get blood under her nails. These days, she doesn’t even have to stain her hands in blood anymore if she doesn’t feel like doing so. Usually, she doesn’t care all that much about getting bloody and dirty, but, considering her public image, better some up and close violence than being called soft all around.
“Velvette, dear,” Vox says next to her, suddenly appearing in her personal space and dropping his arm around her shoulders. “Want me to take care of this situation for you?”
“Fuck off, Vee.”
“Thought you’d say that,” he comments. “But do you really want to ruin your outfit right before the lights go on?”
He is right, of course, but she has to weigh her options.
“Val wouldn’t mind keeping him company until you are done here,” Vox suggests and it’s pretty tempting to just let them sort this out for her. Even so, she’s not some helpless doll and she needs to make a fucking point here.
Vox gets it. Val gets it, too.
It takes a little longer than planned, in particular because they need to clean blood and guts from the runway after she’s done, but that gives her enough time to change into a clean outfit. She doesn’t make a post about it, but she gets a hashtag trending to encourage some gossip, but her violence is a little different than that of the other Vees. Gore doesn’t really match her brand, so she doesn’t want to go live with that. Vox has her back and she doesn’t really worry about the press.
What the public needs to know right now is that Velvette is ruthless. No gross details. No pics of the action. No videos of the deed. Velvette can fucking obliterate a rando and still look camera ready and hot as hell. Her fans get off on that. They want to be that perfect. They want her to be that perfect while maiming them. They don’t need to see her tearing some cunt apart because all the ways in which Velvette can cause pain are a topic for some losers to keep daydreaming about. Sure, she could easily livestream it, but that takes a different approach and mood. This event is pretty exclusive, so the best strategy is to keep the bitches wondering what they are missing.
The rest of the night goes as planned, not a speck of dust out of place. Velvette is in a sour mood, overly critical and hard to please, and she can’t find anything to be mad about. She wants a drink.
Valentino is waiting for her when she finally gets free from work. He doesn’t have to ask her out. He just holds the door open for her and waits for Velvette to get in the car before doing the same. Velvette is not really a party girl, but Val offers her just the right things to take a little of the edge off while they are on their way to whatever club Val picked for the celebration. She doesn’t really like people touching her up or grinding against her; going out in this mood is likely a horrible idea.
The silence is comfortable.
The car stops and they get out. It’s not a club at all, but a fancy restaurant. This is a new one, she hadn’t had the time to check it out yet. Even so, she gives Valentino a skeptical look: she’s never seen him inviting people out for food, if he can avoid it. Valentino laughs and lights up a cigarette.
“Quit judging me, babe.”
Val walks in ahead of her and Velvette follows after a couple of seconds. The place is empty except for them. And Vox, who is already there, at their table. That explains a lot.
The booth looks comfortable and polished. She looks around, the décor isn’t half bad. She can probably get some nice pics before the night is out. The spin will depend on the food, though. Valentino sits in what he assumes to be between them on the booth, shamelessly scooching closer to Vox to lean against him. Velvette stands there, watching them for a moment, totally unimpressed. Vox rolls his eyes and moves a little closer to Valentino, leaving some room for her to sit on his other side, which she does.
They must look a little ridiculous like this, piled up against Vox with most of the sitting space unoccupied. Val is going on about some minor budget details he wants to run by Vox. She has a bit of a headache, so she simply tunes them out, leaning against Vox like that is actually comfortable. It’s not, but who cares.
Vox must have ordered before they got there because the food arrives in a matter of minutes. The drinks, too. Velvette sits up and takes a proper look. It looks pretty, which is a good sign. She takes some pictures from her seat, but they don’t turn out as good as they should. She gets up to take some pictures, trying different angles to be sure everything looks exactly like she wants it to. She makes sure to take some pictures showing just a little bit of Val and Vox, almost as if it was an accident.
“Alright, then” she says after she’s done with the whole thing and Valentino immediately reaches for his drink.
She climbs back into her seat, pressed against Vox, and does the same. Vox doesn’t complain about being squished between them, so she offers him a sip of her own drink.
“We can always find some low earner to help you vent,” Vox offers, but she shrugs. That’s not her style.
“Nah.”
“Some bitch to make you see stars then,” Val offers and she rolls her eyes.
“Not my thing, love.”
“Maybe someone to do all that embarrassing wooing and shit instead?” Valentino laughs and leans over Vox to kiss her cheek when she makes a face about it.
“Some people actually like getting flowers, Val,” Vox points out and Velvette raises her hand to put an end to that line of conversation before it can resurrect that ridiculous argument they got going a couple years back.
“Babes, it’s my fucking night,” she says firmly. “I’m gonna get smashed and have the best time, so you fuckers better keep up and not piss me off.”
The drinks are sweet and they keep coming. She gets trending real fast after posting a story. At some point, Val puts on some music on his phone and it’s silly, but actually pretty fun. Vox looks smitten and it’s a little too embarrassing to watch, so Velvette grabs Val’s hand to dance with her. It’s fun to dance with him like this. No losers touching or brushing against her. She hates to be touched so freely. The food is nice and pretty. She has the clear impression the drinks are getting stronger, but she doesn’t care. Vox is keeping an eye on them. Val is keeping close.
She doesn’t really need this level of protection, but it is pretty nice to know it’s there. Like this, she allows herself to relax a little, to postpone all obligations and deadlines. The night was a success, her headache is gone and her boys are set on forcing her to have a good time. She actually might just enjoy herself, then.
Later, when they go home, she’ll throw herself on her couch and check metrics and all that. Maybe text a little with Shok.wav while she’s at it. His company is rather nice when she’s pulling long hours.
Yeah.
Sounds like a nice plan.