Seafoam and Stars

▬▬ 𝟏𝟑 ∙ 𝗣𝗿𝝾𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽

˚✩ ⋆｡ ✩┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 ┊✦ ˚ · .

▬▬ 13 ∙ 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎

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"I SWEAR to god, Moxie, there's nothing wrong with the way I sit! Besides, no one's going to stare at me, they're going to be looking at the person who's speaking, unless they're an absolute creep!"

"That doesn't sound good," Brennan comments, the two of us pausing in our process of running through potential interview questions to listen to Nova exploding at Moxie. I remember being in her place, feeling very tempted to tear the poofy dress off me and throw the heels at Moxie.

"Nope, it does not... Do you think I should go talk to Moxie?" Finnick's not here right now, away on an appointment after coaching Nova to embrace her angle.

"I think you should, it was bad when Moxie did it with me, but it sounds really bad with Nova." I nod and stand, silently happy that Brennan still cares for Nova, even if he's too stubborn to admit it, a change from the tense days of avoiding each other.

"Alright then, I'll be back after I save Nova from Moxie. Go ahead and keep thinking about those questions, and we'll continue our mock interview later." Brennan laughs and gives me a thumbs up, humming to himself.

I find the two of them in Nova's bedroom, Nova sitting in a chair with a plastic smile and pencil-straight posture. Moxie crosses her arms and hovers over her, looking for any flaws. She says something about having the right hand over the left rather than the other way around, and Nova balls her hands up into fists. I knock on the door before any further violence can break out, but Moxie only seems delighted by my appearance—which is weird beyond anything.

"Ah, Cordelia! Please tell Nova that there are several things wrong with the way she sits. Just look at her hands, and her legs, crossed all wrong!" I look carefully at Nova and deduce that she sits better than I do, finding that the little imperfections, as Moxie refers to them, only enhance Nova's character.

"Nova, there's absolutely nothing wrong with the way you sit. And the way you smile, now that I think of it. And walk. And laugh." Moxie huffs, clearly having several things to say about Nova's laugh that I can imagine already—it's too high, or too loud, or too quiet, or too forced, or she laughs at the wrong times and doesn't at the right times.

"She thinks I talk weird too," Nova adds, rolling her eyes. "Apparently my voice is too deep for a girl my age, which is not only cruel, but also sexist." She sighs and slumps in her chair, losing the smile. "Why couldn't I just stay with Finnick the whole time? At least I'd get something done then, rather than waste my time listening to you tell me about things that won't matter by tomorrow."

Moxie turns to the wall, pinches the bridge of her nose, and takes several deep breaths. "I'm sorry, but if presentation isn't equally as important as the content of your interview, then I don't know what to say. Now sit up and keep smiling!"

Nova begrudgingly draws herself up again, mouths "Help me!" in my direction, and paints on her smile.

"Wider."

She smiles wider. Her nostrils flare and her eyes glare at Moxie.

"Now stay there. I'm going to find a camera so we can both look at your smile, and then you can tell me if there's anything you note that you'd like to fix. Don't move!" she cries before running from the room. Nova's eyes follow Moxie's retreating body, and the minute she disappears out of view, she falls back into the chair.