Kat gave Diego a look when he asked about how long the wait was. She just barely kept her scoff in, but still, an involuntary noise came out. “Any wait is too long of a wait,” she flatly said. “It should be you waiting for me.” She proceeded to point from Diego back to herself, to further prove her point.<br/><br/>Diego promised to do better, mentioning that he thought fashionably late was a thing he had to account for. All Kat could do was chuckle. “I accounted for being fashionably late.” Her gaze pierced through him just for another moment, until Diego promised once more to be more prompt and called her Miss Vandenburg, like a true chauffeur might.<br/><br/>As they drove, Diego inquired about the possibility of an auction at the gala, and whether or not she ever bid. “Sometimes.” She casually replied. Diego then jumped in with another question, this time about her parents. Kat chuckled and shook her head. “My parents are frequently away,” she raised her hands and did finger quotes, “on business.”<br/><br/>She lowered her arms to her lap again. “They usually just send a check to these types of things. Sometimes they will send a spokesperson from their companies.” Kat shrugged a shoulder, seeming unbothered by it. Frankly, by this point in her life, it was something she should be plenty used to. “Looks like we’ve arrived at the drop-off line.” Kat commented, gesturing ahead.<br/><br/>Their wait in line was short-lived, thankfully. When it was their turn to get out of the car, Kat took her time to open the door and swing one leg out, then the other, before raising from her seat. When Diego met up with her on the passenger side, she took his arm, her hand wedged into the crook of his elbow, and off they went.<br/><br/>They walked slowly down the red carpet, where clumps of photographers were leaning over the red velvet dividers that any of them could easily step over. Flashes were coming from every direction. “Just smile,” she advised Diego from under her breath. The carpet led to the hotel, which towered high above them, its bright lights inviting them inside, the red carpet showing the way to the ballroom where the event was located.<br/><br/>As they slowly made their way down the carpet, some photographers shouted out at them. “Kat, who are you wearing?” “Kat, turn this way.” “Kat, how much do you hope to raise tonight?” It may have seemed a little like she was a celebrity, but truthfully, the paparazzi only knew her so well because she was consistently at these galas. But for Diego, it likely felt like he had an A lister on his arm.