knock the world right off its feet
At eight-thirty, Mathilda is sitting and smoking in her living room, looking through the stack of CDs she'd procured for the evening and eyeing some of them thoughtfully. Having a music geek (in a 6'5" jock's body, but...hey) for a boyfriend is occasionally helpful! She's been assured that she's 'rent-free for the evening, and tinychild-free, too, although she has made a mental note to do something nice with Rayanne this weekend. After the hangover's over.
This is always the weird part, the quiet part. She's not sure who will show up first -- generally it's one of her close friends, probably one of the storygirls. Maybe Elsie, since Liz might have things going on, if she shows up at all, and she hasn't spoken with Donna much since the video debacle. No matter, she's prepared for her guests.
Downstairs, in the basement, she's got all the booze and soda they could possibly want...well, maybe not, knowing some of her friends, but there is quite a lot. There are, unlike last time, no cameras, not even the instant ones, present, and if anyone has brought one she will pounce on them and inform them that they aren't allowed to take any incriminating photos or else.
For now, though, she's just waiting.
This is always the weird part, the quiet part. She's not sure who will show up first -- generally it's one of her close friends, probably one of the storygirls. Maybe Elsie, since Liz might have things going on, if she shows up at all, and she hasn't spoken with Donna much since the video debacle. No matter, she's prepared for her guests.
Downstairs, in the basement, she's got all the booze and soda they could possibly want...well, maybe not, knowing some of her friends, but there is quite a lot. There are, unlike last time, no cameras, not even the instant ones, present, and if anyone has brought one she will pounce on them and inform them that they aren't allowed to take any incriminating photos or else.
For now, though, she's just waiting.