Elara's phone vibrated just as she and Marisol exited the audition building, stepping onto the cobblestone streets of Paris. She glanced at the screen, and her lips instantly curved into a grin. Amara.
Amara: How did it go? Did they cry from your brilliance, or are they scrambling to recast because they couldn't handle your awesomeness?
Elara: A little of both, I think. But mostly brilliance.
Her thumbs danced across the keyboard as her grin widened, oblivious to Marisol's exaggerated sigh beside her.
Marisol, ever the queen of dramatics, clutched her chest like she'd been mortally wounded. "Seriously? Right now? Can you at least wait until we're inside so I don't have to watch you smile at your phone like a love-struck teenager in public?"
Elara ignored her, her fingers moving to type another reply.