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I was just about finally settling into my room and pretending the outside world didn't even exist when all of a sudden they barged in.
"Mr. Noah, good evening," the lead stylist chimed in, already unzipping the protective cover of the emerald suit. "We're here for the final fitting. Mr. Fell wants everything to be perfect for tonight's gala."
I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, still wrapped in the plush robe from the night before. "Already? It's barely... what time is it?"
"Eight-thirty," she said cheerfully, as if that explained everything. "We've got a tight schedule. Hair styling at eleven in the morning, photos at two, and leave by six."
