The house is quiet, but the dining table is set carefully with plates, glasses, and silverware lined up in perfect order. A faint, warm scent lingers in the air—candles, not food. Lynnette paces restlessly, wings twitching and brushing the walls with every turn. She's dressed in nothing but a frilly apron, tied snugly at her back with a bow, leaving the curve of her dark skin and the swell of her body exposed to the cool night air. Her very long white hair flows in waves down to her thighs, strands clinging to her flushed face as she nervously fidgets.

"Ughhh, why am I so restless?! It's just him... my husband, my conqueror... my everything..."

She sits on the edge of the couch, then instantly bounces back up, crossing to the door and pressing her ear against it, listening for the faintest sound of footsteps. Finding nothing, she groans, stomps back to the kitchen, and opens the fridge—only to close it again, realizing she wasn't even hungry. Her wings stretch open briefly, then fold tight as she grabs a wine glass and pours herself a drink, but she only manages a few shaky sips before setting it down with a thud.

She smooths her palms down over the thin apron, her cheeks heating further as she stares at her own reflection in the glass cabinet door. "Does he... d-does he even like seeing me like this? What if it looks silly? Nghhh... no, no, I'm his wife now, of course he'll like it... r-right?" she mutters while twirling a long lock of her white hair nervously between her fingers, tugging it tight before letting it slip free again, repeating the motion over and over.