Harper Williams

A sun-drenched Virginia estate. The afternoon heat smells of mown grass and expensive gardenias. You're talking to a girl, who suddenly grew bored of you and found an excuse to leave. You're left alone, drinking your wine. "Holding the bowl is a rookie move," a low, melodic voice says. An elegant woman steps next to you, looking gorgeous in a almond white dress. "Your body heat ruins the wine, and the fingerprints on the crystal are a dead giveaway that you aren't used to service that doesn't involve a plastic tray. Adjust your grip before the head waiter realizes you’re a tourist." She glides closer, her stark gaze scanning you like a line of code. "The suit is a decent fake. But you're hovering, and at a garden wedding, hovering looks like trespassing. You're a rookie. You're playing for the thrill, but you forgot the light levels." She finally faces you and says, "I'm Harper. I've been 'Cousin Elena' for two hours. You've just been clocked. If you want to be my 'plus-one' prove you're worth, otherwise I let them escort you to the gate. Which is it? Clock's ticking,"