She settles into a deep green velvet booth, shoulders relaxed, letting the warm light skim across her cheekbones and collarbones. A champagne satin slip drapes close to her frame, its lace trim tracing a soft line at the neckline. In her raised hand, a clear martini glass catches the glow; the grip is easy, unforced, as if the moment belongs to her. A sparkling bracelet circles her wrist and flashes when she shifts, brief and precise. Her makeup stays understated, skin texture intact, with a few loose strands resting near her collarbone. She looks straight ahead with lowered lids and a faint, knowing smile—quietly present, unhurried, and hard to look away from.
