Where is D'arcy? Where is D'arcy? Where is D'arcy?

I'm just sitting here, staring at the most dignified looking person ever... by myself, without D'arcy.

D'arcy's aunt, Countess Eleanor of someplace or another, is the Webster's definition of poise. AND she's wearing gloves. Pretty, white, lace gloves. I didn't know that was a thing. I should say was wearing gloves. She gracefully slid the first one off before shaking my hand, then the other as she sat down to eat. I'm not sure what she did with them, they just magically disappeared.

I'm trying to sit up straight to match her good posture, but I can tell I probably look rigid. I've tried to relax my shoulders, but they keep tensing up. My head looks like it's trying to sink between my shoulders like a turtle.

She's just staring at me.

Where is D'arcy? I feel like he could fix all this. It is his aunt after all, surely they would have something to talk about. Why isn't she saying anything? Why is it so quiet?

Okay, I'm a big girl. I can do this. I'll just start the conversation. Is that proper? Am I supposed to talk first? I'm going to. What am I supposed to say? I should ask her something. What on earth am I supposed to ask a Countess? 'So... Countess, uh? Is... it... fun... countess-ing?'

Okay scratch that idea. New plan. Maybe I can tell her something about myself. I'm sure she wants to know something about her nephew's fiance.

The words come tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them, "I'mafilmmajor."

She raises a brow at this. I wonder if she managed to translate it to 'I'm a film major'. I know that I should probably stop and rethink this approach, but the word tornado has already begun, "I-I really want to direct a Disney princess movie, and some other kid movies- because I love kids and they don't deserve stupid movies. Not that Disney princess movies are stupid. I mean, I love em'. B-But don't get me wrong; I like adult movies too. Well not adult movies," I add, my face turning red. I wish I had an emergency mute button, "You know: movies aimed toward adults and-and not kids. PG-13 movies. Not R, I don't like most R movies. I tend to stay away from them. 'Cause I don't do blood and sex." I shove a pastry in my mouth just to shut myself up.

She tilts her head, taking me in. Suddenly the tips of her mouth twitch up into a grin, "I like you, Gypsy."

"Really?" I nearly spit out my food. I quickly cover my mouth with a crumpled up napkin, hoping that I didn't just change her mind.

She gives a small laugh as I swallow, "Yes, really. You seem honest. You're still trying to be yourself, despite what my brother has put you through." She frowns ever so slightly, "A necessary evil, I'm afraid."

"You're brother?" I ask, confused.

She laughs, her grin returning, "Oh, no! Feels like it some days, but no. I meant always having to walk on eggshells around the press."

"Are they really that bad?"

"A few things in life are just bad as a whole," She says, lifting the tea cup to her lips. "There are good reporters. The honest ones. Most of them, however, are just looking for a story. They feed off what the public wants. Do the people want a scandal? A sense of security? After them, my dear, come the bad ones." She sets her cup down. Wiping the corners of her mouth. She then folds her napkin and lays it on her lap. "They're always looking for an opportunity to tear down the respectability of our family. They'll take the smallest detail, a fact that is neither good nor bad, and twist it in to an outrageous story. Your name, for example," She says, motioning toward me, "Just a name within itself. But the public might find it offensive, meaning most reporters will write about that. Then the bad ones will take it a step farther, blowing it completely out of the water."

"Well," I shrug, "Maybe the public won't. You gotta have some faith, right?"

"Yes, but having faith doesn't mean you can't be smart about certain things." She rises to leave, her gloves miraculously reappearing, "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Gypsy. I'm glad our D'arcy will marry someone he loves."

"Right," I say a little too quickly. "We're really in, uh... yeah." I laugh nervously.