e l i t e s / T. Shelby / The Brat Pack

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"You took my Burberry coat didn't you?!"

November 1925

present-day

Irene huffed frustratedly, her arms flailing about. In her hands, came clothes flying around, forming a pile of finely-crafted luxury garments. Her brown eyes look around, unsatisfied.

The girl walked toward her wardrobe, her fast hands once again moved through the neatly-hanged clothes. Not finding what she's looking for she crossed her arms against her chest pacing back and forth, contemplating on which sister raided her wardrobe and took her coat. She stopped mad pacing,

Imogen.

Still in her nightgown, Irene grabbed the black silk robe hanging on the coat hanger and exited her room. The smell of breakfast wafted through her nose, immediately after she walked out of her room. Its smell seducing her, as if the food itself knew that she was going to throw her sister a fit.

Not now, stomach, after i scold her ears off i swear i will give you my undivided attention she thought as she caressed her grumbling tummy. She snickered at the silly thought.

Irene's feet carried her to the dining room where she knew the culprit behind her missing coat will be. As she walked through the tall mahogany doors leading to the dining room, Irene noticed that her papa, Robert, and Imogen had started eating breakfast.

With her papa sitting at his seat at the head of the table, Robert sitting on his right and Imogen sitting beside him. No one sits on the left side of their papa, that space belonged to Irene.

Her papa's eyes looked up from his papers when he saw his oldest daughter came in, "Ah... you've graced us with your presence. Good - "

"I've always told you to fucking tell me whenever you take clothes from my wardrobe, have i?" Irene pointed a finger toward her sister Imogen, who's trying to eat her poached egg.

"Morning..." Papa continued, grimacing at his daughter's choice of word. Irene turned her head quickly to her father, "Morning." Then back to her little sister, who seems to be unbothered by the sudden accusation.

Robert and Papa looked at each other, knowing where this is headed. "Well?"

Imogen looked up with an innocent look webbed on her face, "I haven't the slightest at what you're talking about, Irene."

Irene scoffed, "Oh how brilliant you are at lying, did my old school La Rosey taught you to lie? The Art of Deception; How to Become a Snake?"

Imogen's face started to tinge red as she stood up, "Again, Irene the Great, i have no idea-"

"You took my Burberry coat didn't you?!" Irene tore off a piece of bread angrily and shoved it inside her mouth, she tried to ignore the growling in her stomach, she really did. "Irene, you have about a dozen times four of those, you have to be more speci-"

"The cream coloured one Aunt Margoux had delivered from France!" At this, Imogen's face contorted into a hard-thinking expression. Irene scoffed again, this time she added her signature bitchy rolled eyes.