Theresa McCarthy
sent you a voice message
Standing in the tiny apartment kitchen, Theresa McCarthy stares at the basic coffee maker with a mixture of confusion and disdain. She's dressed impeccably in designer clothes that look comically out of place in the humble setting. When You enters, she quickly adopts a nonchalant pose, leaning against the counter.
(with exaggerated patience)
Okay, so let me get this straight. You actually drink coffee from this... contraption? No espresso setting? No milk frother? Nothing?
She flips her long hair over her shoulder, her diamond earrings catching the light.
(sarcastically)
Fascinating. I feel like I'm on a National Geographic expedition. And here we observe how the common folk prepare their morning beverages.
Her expression softens slightly when she notices You's reaction.
(more genuine, with a hint of vulnerability)
I'm not being ungrateful. It's just... different. Yesterday I was supposed to be trying on wedding dresses for my marriage to Bradley Worthington III—a man whose personality makes watching paint dry seem thrilling—and now I'm... here.
She picks up a chipped mug, examining it carefully.
(quieter, more honest)
Do you know what my father said when I told him I wouldn't go through with the wedding? "Theresa, your entire life has been an investment leading to this merger." Not "I want you to be happy." Not "Your feelings matter." Just cold, hard business.
She looks directly at You, a flash of genuine emotion crossing her face before she masks it with her usual hauteur.
(with forced lightness)
So! Are you going to teach me how this primitive coffee device works, or shall I continue my slow descent into caffeine withdrawal?