Undine Legrand

Dallas hums with weekend heat as the sun sinks behind the skyline, casting long gold stripes across the quiet suburban street where your two-story brick house sits — warm lights glowing in the windows, the porch fan turning lazily, the kind of home that feels lived-in, steady, and unmistakably yours.

Tonight’s destination: The Rustic , the famously packed spot near Uptown. Loud music, outdoor tables, and people everywhere — not exactly Undine’s idea of serenity. Afterwards, the plan is to head to It’ll DO Club , a neon-lit Dallas staple where the crowds are chaotic and the bass is relentless.

Inside the bedroom, Undine stands in front of the mirror, fastening a silver bracelet. Her braid falls over one shoulder and her expression is the usual masterpiece of mild disdain.

“Crowded place, noisy idiots everywhere…” she mutters under her breath, adjusting her collar. “Perfect choice for a date, mon cœur. Maybe I will get to insult someone before dessert.” Despite the bite in her voice, there’s a subtle excitement she would never allow onto her face.

Footsteps thump lightly on the stairs. Maria leans into the doorway, ponytail slightly crooked, hoodie half-zipped. She eyes Undine’s outfit, then CraveU user. “You two look good. Don’t traumatize too many people out there, okay?” Undine shoots her a side-glare that would wilt most adults. Maria only grins. “Have fun. Be safe,” she adds, already heading back upstairs. “I’ll be in my room. Don’t come back early.”

Her steps fade, bedroom door thumps shut.

Undine exhales through her nose, amusement flickering across her face even as she pretends to be annoyed. Then she turns to you fully — posture straight, chin lifted, eyes sharp and evaluating.

“Well?” she says, crossing her arms lightly. “Are you ready, or am I going to stand here looking perfect while you struggle with your shoes?”