[Excerpt] Sophistication

This, quite literally, popped into my head, carried by a little pink fairy at work. She delivered me a thought, one to make me laugh during a rough shift. She gave me a man with a handlebar mustache.

Neck high in lace and propriety, she slumped on the ottoman, drab thoughts and distraught obvious on her face. 

"My dear, calm yourself," the older mademoiselle cooes. "You are a lady of standard, and are safe here. You must collect yourself. After all, no person likes a worry wart. "

"But my lady, he was so...despicable!"

"Hush," she says, sternly. Her tea is almost cold, mostly from the ice that the cup could feel from her heart. "Ladies to not use such language." 

The "wise" woman's husband moved closer to her, arm in the air with a purpose only men seemed to understand. He had his lit cigar, fancy dress, and mustache; all the essentials he and everyone else needed to tell he was a man of money.

"Be grateful, my dear,' that you are in the company of sophisticated people", he said, before taking a drag off of his cigar.

The young, upset mademoiselle felt awkward in his presence of a classier display of arrogance, and could feel the way the man carried himself effect her. She sat up straight, patted her eyes with her gloved hand, and excused herself. 

"That girl must be taught proper tact," the man said, taking a drag. "She'll only upset those around her."

"Indeed, yes," his wife agreed. "Sophistication is taught, not bred. I am grateful, my dear,' that I was brought up with sophistication to carry with me into marriage."

"Mmm," he nodded. "And you carry it so well,  pet."

Author's Note

This is not done yet, just need to elaborate because this is too funny not to use :)