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mistkittI was watching The Voice and I don’t know what happened. Muse-verse, sometime between engagement and wedding.
~
Orihime didn’t let insults get her down very often. Most of the time they bounced harmlessly off the steel door her heart was locked behind (to which only Ulquiorra had the key). But this was different, and she had the sulky expression to prove it.
Here she was, wearing a dress specially tailored to accommodate her gratuitous bust, acting like a lady in front of music industry big wigs because her famous pianist fiance had been invited to some chick’s party. The chick in question - Miss Georgia Sones - was a rising star in the piano world, and reportedly a huge fan of Ulquiorra’s. He’d been spending a lot of time with her in the past month, and starting fights with Orihime by making airy comments about how nice it was to be appreciated.
Orihime never took them seriously, though. Jealousy wasn’t the issue. It was the fact that she’d genuinely wanted to get along with Miss Georgia Sones… and the little two-faced apple tart had, in relative privacy, sneered that she had no idea why Mr. Schiffer was dating an ignorant, tone deaf slut.
Never mind the slut part - Orihime had a secret fear that her lack of musical knowledge was a point on some imaginary list of reasons for Ulquiorra not to marry her. And now she was sulking. And he was noticing. Twice he’d asked her if she was alright, if she needed a Tums, and once he’d made a phone call to Italy and woken up a very annoyed Natalia Moretti. Unfortunately the conversation had been in Italian, so Orihime had no idea what was said.
“It’s nothing, geez. I’m just so depressed by this glamorous hotel. Like, if I let it slip to the staff that being adopted by white people doesn’t make you any less Mexican, we might get kicked out,” Orihime muttered spiritlessly.
Ulquiorra didn’t buy the social justice act for a second. He’d watched, from across the room, as Orihime’s face fell while talking to Miss Georgia Sones. Unfortunately, it was his turn to sing Miss Georgia Sones’ praises to the gathered audience, and he’d fraternized with her often to excite everyone. He left his gloomy fiance at the table and stepped up to the microphone.
“It is truly an honor to be here tonight,” he said, straightening the cuffs of his sleeves nonchalantly. “As you may know, Miss Sones has been coming to me for advice since we were introduced to each other by the label a few weeks ago. If you ask her, she’ll tell you that I’ve said very little on that subject, and it’s true - I’m hesitant to impart wisdom, as I suffer from a general lack of it.” Chuckles from the audience. “But now that I’ve got you all here, I figure it is time to stop dancing around the subject and say exactly how I feel about Miss Georgia Sones.
"To say that she is a third rate musician would be too kind. Her piano playing is reminiscent of the midi keyboards in those God-awful Kidz Bop albums. Her style is flashy and deceptive, like films that try to distract viewers from a terrible plot with constant, unnecessary explosions. Her compositions have the emotional depth of a snail, and evoke in me no other feeling than a desire to be run through by the lance of an actor at a Renaissance fair. My advice to you, Miss Sones, is to remove your greedy hands from the piano at once and find a career better suited to your terrible personality. And cease your attempts to sleep with me, I’m engaged.”
Dead silence. The color had drained from Miss Georgia Sones’ face. Horrified looks were exchanged by everyone. Even Orihime had sunk down in her chair like she was considering sneaking out from under the table. Ulquiorra blinked. “But again, thank you for inviting me. The food is delicious. Don’t forget to tip your waiters.”
