“Wardrobe’s in the back,” they told her.
Zoye strutted in, full demon-slayer glam—high slits, thigh belts, attitude maxed out.
She turned the corner.
Two guys with oiled chests, and zero idea what cosplay even was.
She blinked. “Is this... a fan shoot?”
The director: “Sort of...”
Zoye tossed her cape over the nearest chair.
“Cool. Just don’t touch the eyeliner. That took forty minutes.”