First Impressions

[Beloved contestant, with the conclusion of your "blind" date comes the next phase of your first assignment: Identifying your date]

[Ever felt bad for judging strangers by their appearances? Don't worry; you can gawk and judge however you like now]

[Quietly, I repeat—QUIETLY, write down the number of the contestant whom you think is the correct answer and hold onto your slip for now]

[Deadline: 5 minutes]

[Reward(s): +5 pts]

[Penalty: —]

Iris looked up from her custom Beloved Imposter Phone and surveyed the other people seated around the spacious living room, consciously aware that some of them may be eyeing her as well.

Eleven other genetically blessed women and men wordlessly observed one another, some more low-key than others. Iris instinctively looked away when a roguish man in a black leather jacket locked eyes with her, only to fall into the eyes of someone else she did not want to be making eye contact with—Skyler.

She swivelled around again. This time, Leather Jacket, also known as #7, was making his way towards the breakfast bar adjacent to the room. He rummaged through it, dark hair flopping over his forehead in concentration, and surfaced with a can of soda. He popped it open and leaned against the shiny bar top, scrutinising the room with glinting eyes.

Iris didn't dare to stare at him any longer. He looked way too intense to be the chatty stockbroker she'd just spent two hours with. And if her judgement served her right, someone like him wouldn't confine himself to nine-to-fives in an office.

Iris crossed #7 off the list of possibilities and studied the man sitting on the couch opposite her.

#4 was a lean man clad in a blue dress shirt, red tie, and dark slacks who had spent the past few minutes wiping his glasses with a striped handkerchief. The nerves on his hands were prominent, and his bloodless lips were pinched together as he "spied" on the others with darting brown eyes. 

'Hm, doesn't seem like "Bob", although he looks like one...'

In her periphery, a man settled onto the couch next to #4, instantly creating a stark contrast with his assertive body language. 

He was a clean-cut brunette dressed in a navy suit and polished brown loafers. He draped his arms on the backing behind him and crossed his long legs as he sat down, confidently perused everyone like they were prizes waiting to be chosen.

When Iris caught his eye, he grinned at her confidently, a display of straight, white teeth that reminded her of salesmen in the mall. She returned the silent greeting with a nod, reaching for a bottle of water on the table between them.

Cling! Cling! Cling! 

While drinking, Iris sensed a burning line of sight drilling into her. Raising her head, she saw the suit's grey eyes boring into her.

Wait, he wasn't staring at her face…

He was staring at her… Arms?

Iris looked down. There was nothing on her arms except her bracelets.

Why were the suit's eyes so fervent while looking at them? It was almost as if...

A lightbulb lit up in her head.

Cling! Cling! Cling! 

"Is there a bell in here?" Bob asked.

"No, it's…"

It was as if he recognised her bracelets! Which meant…

The suit shot her a knowing smirk and lowered his head to write something on his slip, no doubt the "#10" on the sticker stuck to her shirt.

Iris checked his number—#2—and hastily scribbled it on her slip. There was no doubt the suit was Bob, he even fit the picture of a typical stockbroker.

After her pen left the paper, Iris slumped down in relief. She had finished her first assignment with one minute to spare. Who knew simply ogling people—and being ogled—could be this stressful?

***

Travis Beckett was amused by the woman sitting across from him, #10.

She seemed to have realised something when he smirked at her, and had unhesitatingly copied down his number on her slip. It was cute how she looked left and right from her seat like a meerkat, sneaking covert glances at everyone yet too skittish to hold eye contact for more than a few breaths.

The judgemental eyes of others were enough to have her sitting on pinpricks, but despite that, she held out for her goal of uncovering her date's identity.

This all fit the profile of her he had constructed during their blind date: Anxious and a little self-conscious, with a hint of spunk. Not reserved, though—she was quite vocal about her opinion on relationships... And why she wasn't here with her ex.

Travis wasn't sure if he trusted her about the latter, but it didn't matter—for now, she had captured his interest, and he would make her forget about any exes she had while on this show.

Momentarily, he also debated the possibility of making her his client. However, the director probably wouldn't appreciate professional deals in the midst of his set.

"Rain" was more attractive than his average clients though, with long, black hair, emerald eyes, and those luscious pink lips she was unconsciously nibbling.

Travis smirked.

Maybe mixing business with pleasure wouldn't be such a bad idea.

***

One minute later.

"HELLO, CONTESTANTS! MISSED ME?"

Iris nearly jumped as a familiar figure made his entrance known with his admirable windpipes.

Marching into the living room with all the swagger of a flamingo in a savanna, Larry placed his hands on his hips and boomed, "Times up! Let's get this thing started. Or finished, technically. Contestant #1, come forth and introduce yourself."

[Huh?]

[That's it???]

[No long speech?????]

[Hahahaha he's so covertly dramatic]

["Come forth"]

["Yes, your highness"]

["State your name"]

For a few seconds, the contestants gawked at Larry, processing the abruptly shattered silence that had permeated this room.

"Chop, chop! #1, I don't see you?" Larry repeated.

At last, somebody reacted.

Standing up from an ottoman in a corner of the room, a stunning blonde smoothened her dress and glided towards Larry. The black on white "#1" sticker somehow looked like a classy brooch attached to her silky, teal coloured midi dress, and her steps carried an enchanting rhythm that commanded attention.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. 

The woman stopped beside Larry and introduced herself with a voice as crisp as fresh snow on primroses.

"Hello, I'm Madeline Ackerman."

[Omg she's so pretty without the blindfold!!]

[her voice... I'm in love]

[Are all classical musicians like this?]

[idk but she is]

Unperturbed by Madeline's palpable elegance whilst the other contestants were still entranced by it, Larry cut to the chase.

"Madeline, please reveal the number on your slip."

Madeline obliged and unfurled her paper for all to see. On it was the number "12".

"Let's see... Who is #12 again?" Larry muttered, scratching his chin.

[The director doesn't even recognise the contestants HE picked?]

[HAHAHA]

[#12 spotted—hottie alert!!]

[Tbh everyone here is hot]

Unlike Larry, Madeline locked onto a certain blonde man without hesitation. She raised a long, slender finger and pointed.

"Him."