<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/2s68xtH.jpeg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Emma Grey<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Arriving at the party<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Black jacket, Black top, Belt, Jeans, Sneakers<br/><strong>Content Warning</strong>:<br/><strong>Optional</strong><br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Lance, Open<br/><hr/>"You have arrived at your destination," the voice on Emma's GPS app helpfully chimed in. The woman behind the steering wheel leaned forward to gawk at the mansion. A long sigh blew between lips pressed thin, puffing out Emma's cheeks until her lungs had no more air to lend. Her fingers drummed anxiously against the steering wheel.<br/><br/>Holy fuck. This was actually the place. Emma had already circled around three times and had ended up in front of the same exact place every single time. Risking a fourth lap sounded unwise. Emma's sun-faded blue Civic was older than her and already stood out enough in this kind of neighborhood. She could just picture the flashing blue lights and the officer asking her what business she had around here. "Gee, Officer, I was just out here to participate in the super secret celebrity strip poker orgy party."<br/><br/>Emma banged her head on the steering wheel, eliciting a long "Beeeep" that sounded as tired as she imagined poor Bernard (an old, grumpy car deserved an old, grumpy name) must feel. God, it all felt so stupid. What the fuck was she doing here? This had to be a prank, right? Or what if she got inside and everyone was wearing masks or some other cult-y shit?<br/><br/>Deep breaths, Emma. There was a lawyer, NDAs, and all that other stuff, remember? Jesus, how could she forget? Her mother nearly had a heart attack when she opened the door to a man in a suit and tie asking if her daughter was home. Emma dodged most of the probing questions with a "Just work stuff, mom." Yeah,<em>work stuff</em>.<br/><br/>Emma's old Civic grumbled to a stop behind a car that was probably worth more than one hundred Bernards. With a turn of the key, the car gave one final shudder before shutting off. She patted the dashboard and inwardly prayed that the old guy still had enough pep to get her out of here in a hurry just in case things were weirder than Chloe had let on. You could never be too sure with these Hollywood types.<br/><br/>Grey sneakers touched the driveway and turned to point at the mansion. A black hoodie emblazoned with conjoined A's over the heart and the words "Let It Sleep" running the length of one sleeve hung loosely off her shoulders, flirting with the prospect of sliding down her arms but never delivering. Beneath that was a sleeveless v-cut black top that never quite seemed to reach all the way down to her distressed skinny jeans, each bit of Emma's movement flashing a thin line of tanned skin between the two. Chloe had said that the hostess liked to keep things casual. Emma could only hope that she meant 'normal person casual' and not 'Hollywood casual.'<br/><br/>Emma dropped her keys into a Louis Vuitton bag that clashed with her whole vibe, but gosh darn it, she couldn't help but get suckered into the illusion it gave. The green of her eyes stared down into the opening. Travel makeup. A heap of business cards that she shuffled through when work dried up. A roll of four condoms. Emma chewed on her bottom lip and huffed a deep breath that lifted her bangs. Positive thoughts. No one is getting sacrificed by a Hollywood death cult. A lot of rich, influential people are going to be there which could mean all kinds of things for your career or your romantic life. And if nothing else, it'll be a good time.<br/><br/>Suitably motivated, Emma approached the door only for her gait to slow as she spotted another person already standing there. His appearance instantly alleviated a lot of Emma's nagging insecurities. He looked...<em>normal</em>. There was the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going on, but you know, a<em>normal</em>tall, dark, and handsome thing. Thank God.<br/><br/>A small smile touched her lips. "Hey there." The brunette tilted her head ever so slightly, curiously trying to size up the guy in front of her. Did she know him? Chloe said the hostess had all kinds of friends in the business, and Emma had half wondered how she would handle meeting someone that was legitimately famous. This guy wasn't ringing any bells, though. "You here for the party too? It's kind of uhh..." Emma trailed off for a second and cast a glance around at the surrounding estate, "...<em>cryptic</em>, isn't it?"