One hour later…
Kurt walked through the outer wrought-iron gates of the estate, expecting a quiet afternoon. Instead, he walked straight into an unbelievable power dynamic.
Standing near the manicured front gardens was Nichole. Despite her fiery personality, she was currently sweating bullets. She was dressed in a maroon housemaid outfit with a white apron, holding a long wooden broom as if it were a sword.
Standing in front of her, tapping a tiny leather boot on the ground with her hands on her hips, was Hope.
Her face was puffed up in utmost authority, thoroughly enjoying the fact that she finally had a "junior maid" to boss around.
"No, no, no! Junior Nichole! You are holding the broom with way too much force! Look at this dirt! You almost scattered the leaves! A proper maid cleans up beautifully!"
"I–I am trying to control my strength! I've never held a broom in my life!"
"That is no excuse!" Hope declared cutely, puffing out her tiny chest. "Now! Re-do it!"
