shinn | [✭] so far, so great

au.
sheryl nome. macross frontier
zack fair. final fantasy 7

It was a mistake to say “yes” to that invitation. It took a while for it to sink in, but Sheryl eventually realized what trouble she was going to be in because of a word of confirmation. She didn’t even know why she said yes in the first place. She really had to attend the owner’s daughter’s birthday celebration that weekend.

She didn’t even know why she was invited to the owner’s daughter’s birthday party. VIP, maybe? She was sure they’ve never met, but if it was a request from someone who had a higher position than her (in that case, the one who owns the record company she works for), then it had to be done no matter what.

The party was going to be grand. The party was going to be a ball. She knew that events like these had something special to them—that everyone would be bringing dates. If they didn’t, they were open season for everyone.

She wasn’t going to be part of the open season. No.

But, it was something that couldn’t be helped. (Why was she so picky, anyway?) The only ever person she would ask to accompany her for activities like those was usually not around. Business trips, and all that. She still tried though, and left a message on his cellphone.

In the end, Sheryl had to throw away her pride for a day and walk into the party without anyone with her. She thought of many excuses just to get out of it, but opted not to use any because she knew her job might just be on the line for this.

During the party itself, she tried as much not to gather any attention. Of course, that was inevitable, but she just walked in, greeted some people and nothing more. If it were an event she was more excited about, she would have worn something flashier and prepared better. Though, despite all her efforts to keep away from people, the people just kept coming at her.

Some just want to talk, which was perfectly acceptable. She entertained those conversations and actually had pretty decent ones. Some approached her just to ask her out, but she had to decline since she wasn’t “particularly interested in dating anyone at the moment”, or so she said. Some wanted their relationship to be baseless and cut short by just putting it all out on the dance floor for some classic ballroom that night. They were mostly people whom she had never met, hardly knew or just faceless people she passed by whenever she was doing some business in the office.

She had her short moments of alone time, at least. Those were when she excused herself to the powder room. It usually took her 10-15 fifteen minutes in every visit. She wasn’t even re-applying anything on her face; she just wanted to be alone. She just wanted to leave.

Accidents really suck.

When Sheryl excused herself for the nth time for a powder room visit, she immediately out the room, into the hallway and hid herself behind a random pillar. Moments later, she rushed down the stairs and out the door. She was careful enough not to let anyone see her leave, at least.

“Aaah! This is so infuriating! I’m never going to these kinds of parties again! I want to dance, but all the men are just so annoying!” she continued to rant as she stormed out. She stopped stomping, at least, as she waited by the entrance for her driver to come and pick her up.

It didn’t take long for the car to arrive too. The moment she dashed out the party, she had already told her driver to come and get her, since she was leaving already. Her car made a short turn and stopped in front of the building’s entrance, just where Sheryl was waiting.
“I was hoping to meet someone really cool and smart, and someone nice to talk to but everyone was just...”

“I guess you’re just going to have to settle for me then!”

Sheryl was just about to get in her car when she heard someone say that.

“W-Who do you think you are?” she said. Her hands were pressed against the door to her car already. She quickly turned around to answer her own question.

Her bad mood disappeared the moment she saw who it was. Or rather, when she saw what the who was wearing. A SOLDIER 1st Class uniform with a white boutonnière that looked like something carelessly plucked from one of the flowers decorated by the party’s entrance.

Classy.

She laughed.

“Am I late?”

“No, you’re just in time.”