Night 57: Men's Bathrooms (M41-M80)
[from here]
Slipping into the bathroom, Grell gaze the area a quick check before he locked the door behind him and let out a sigh. As usual the place was dark, dank and rather disgusting (it was a men's loo after all), but it was silent and solitary and meant he could get changed in peace. Or relative peace. The chainsaw at his side would ensure that anyone rude enough to interrupt a lady when she was changing would receive a fitting punishment of being sliced in half. Hopefully their blood would be proper and red for once. She could do with a little blood right about now.
Setting the pillowcase in the sink, Grell checked his fake lashes and the placement of his rouge and lipstick. A smidge here and there, a slight adjustment to the lipstick and the makeup was finished. After that it was a simple matter of getting dressed; tying the ribbon around his neck, lacing up his boots, pulling on the gloves and adjusting the ribbon again so it sat just so. It took him a moment to decide whether to put his hair up or down, but he went with up. It was rare that he did so and tonight was a special occasion. Special enough that he even considered wearing the beret for a moment until he remembered it really just didn't go with his outfit. He needed more clothes. Desperately. The worst part about the Institute, more than the heartbeat and mortality and the imminent danger of death around every corner, was the lack of a good wardrobe. Seriously. They needed some variation. Sigh.
Outfit in place and hair pulled up into a high ponytail, Grell winked at his dusty reflection in the mirror and grabbed his chainsaw. Time to go now that he was finally ready.
[to here]
Slipping into the bathroom, Grell gaze the area a quick check before he locked the door behind him and let out a sigh. As usual the place was dark, dank and rather disgusting (it was a men's loo after all), but it was silent and solitary and meant he could get changed in peace. Or relative peace. The chainsaw at his side would ensure that anyone rude enough to interrupt a lady when she was changing would receive a fitting punishment of being sliced in half. Hopefully their blood would be proper and red for once. She could do with a little blood right about now.
Setting the pillowcase in the sink, Grell checked his fake lashes and the placement of his rouge and lipstick. A smidge here and there, a slight adjustment to the lipstick and the makeup was finished. After that it was a simple matter of getting dressed; tying the ribbon around his neck, lacing up his boots, pulling on the gloves and adjusting the ribbon again so it sat just so. It took him a moment to decide whether to put his hair up or down, but he went with up. It was rare that he did so and tonight was a special occasion. Special enough that he even considered wearing the beret for a moment until he remembered it really just didn't go with his outfit. He needed more clothes. Desperately. The worst part about the Institute, more than the heartbeat and mortality and the imminent danger of death around every corner, was the lack of a good wardrobe. Seriously. They needed some variation. Sigh.
Outfit in place and hair pulled up into a high ponytail, Grell winked at his dusty reflection in the mirror and grabbed his chainsaw. Time to go now that he was finally ready.
[to here]