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Gabriel!
Rachel hated her parents sometimes. Technically speaking, she hated her parents always, but tonight had brought about a fresh surge of annoyance. It had been one week since they announced another match was on the table for her, pretending as though the scores of suitors she'd terrorized simply didn't exist. Were she not so horrified, Rachel would have laughed. It wasn't so much of a surprise, she supposed, after all—how long had they been biding their time until Healer Smethwyck was out of the picture? They must have been showing her courtesy by biding their time 'til tonight, given that she and Healer Smethwyck had been separated for a good three months, her having been bed-ridden with concussion-induced amnesia for nearly as long. Rachel could have done without the trip down memory lane, particularly when it ended up compromising her employment. Driftless, loveless… how was it that, a year later, she was ending up right where she started?

She tried not to remember the last Halloween, the one where it seemed like the possibilities for her were expanding across the horizon.

"If you'll excuse me, darling," she'd told Giada as soon as they'd entered, who clearly had other means of entertaining herself, "I'll just be two seconds. There's something that needs nipping in the bud." A meaningful glance was exchanged.

Grinding her teeth in annoyance, her eyes roved the mingling groups of scales, feathers, and fur, to name a few of the eye-popping affectations, trying in vain to remember what it was the man would be wearing. Perhaps the intrigue and mystery her parents were straining to achieve would have been better suited in a private function, potentially one that involved masks, not that it matted much. Her claws might have needed sharpening, but Rachel remembered her lines like a script's dialogue; she'd only need a few minutes to dissuade the man from carrying on with this pointless charade.

After a few more minutes of fruitless scanning passed, she began contemplating the consequences of ignoring her parents' wishes altogether. They'd certainly been outraged enough at her chosen ensemble. Even she wrinkled her nose slightly at it, but rebellion sometimes called for the shelving of good taste.