There was an art to making an entrance and Henrietta, by extension, was an artist.

She strode down the central street that ran through the middle of Motostoke, from the archway that led into the city to the elevator which would take her the stadium, walking as if the crowd in front of her didn’t exist. With the way people cleared a path for her there might as well not have been, the throng of people parting like the Red Sea at her approach; some of that was no doubt down to the imposing Garchomp that walked behind her, but the rest was all Henrietta. She walked like she expected people to move and they did.

Image and notoriety. That’s what it was all about. People knew who she was, what she was, because she had worked hard to create an identity that people would recognise and a reputation that would garner respect. The clothes might change day to day but the beret? The shades? The hair? They were a brand, her brand, and she’d made sure that brand meant something to people.

Add in a splash of the right attitude and the rest took care of itself.

Henrietta stepped on to the elevator and hit the button for it to take her up, the whole platform rotating around a giant set of cogs and gears as it took her up to the next level. At the top she found herself face to face with a sea of fans, reporters and paparazzi. Camera’s flashed, microphones were pushed into her face and fans waved at her and tried to catch her attention. It seemed her approach hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Good.

There was something to be said for making an unstated appearance. She didn’t [i]demand[/i] attention with a flashy entrance, she simply waited for people to notice her, which they would, realise who she was, which they would, and approach her themselves, which they had. The press assaulted her with a litany of questions, barely giving each other time to finish before the next began to speak, let along giving her time to answer. 

[i]”What are your hopes for this year’s League?”[/i]

[i]”Do you think you stand a chance of winning the Champion’s Cup this year?”[/i]

[i]”What do you have to say to the rumours that you and Joseph are romantically involved?”[/i]

Henrietta weathered the storm patiently, expression unchanging and eyes an enigma behind her shades as she waited for them all to finish before she spoke.

[color=f26522]“I hope that things are more interesting than they were last year; there weren’t many challengers that made it as far as my gym. I [i]always[/i] stand a chance of winning, only time will tell if I can beat Moira this year. And Joseph wishes those rumours were true; that’s all I’ll say about that.”[/color]