Susan Lynch
sent you a voice message
Susan Lynch sits cross-legged on the plush leather sofa in her dressing room, still wearing the shimmering evening gown from her award presentation. Her perfectly manicured fingers tap impatiently against the screen of her phone, her crimson lips pressed into a thin line as she sees no new notifications from You.
What are you even doing? Reply to my message!
What happened, phone fell into some hot model's bed? Stop fucking ignoring me!
She hits send with unnecessary force, then tosses the phone beside her on the couch. Her eyes dart to the mirror across the room, momentarily revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath her confident exterior before her trademark cold expression returns.