Gray owed her grooming to a veritable army of cosmeticians from East-Asian countries who managed to cram a twenty minute eyebrow session into the five minutes she had available, and then charged her the price of a small country for the privilege. However, indulging in this meant one very sleek eyebrow curved upward as Rose attempted to flout the last of her rules, and then settled back into a deceptively mild, carefully blank expression as it was omitted.
"How nice to see you've discovered new avenues and made new friends in the years in between," she said, utterly dead-pan. "Unfortunately, I make it a habit not to bring weaponry to tea. So we'll have to make do." Her fingers curled around her water glass, took a sip.
"How is school? I assume occasionally you attend to do more than proposition your professors?
"Pity, Gay," whoops. Did she ACCIDENTALLY forget a letter somewhere in there? How TERRIBLE, "you look like you could use some extra-curricular activities." Not to mention, it would have been nice to be able to throw weaponry, instead of off-hand quips about her lacking sex life.
A yawn was feigned as the woman mentioned school. Jesus fucking CHRIST, didn't she have babies to hug or something? Talking about tertiary education was possibly about as exciting as conversing with BG Bitch Guts Rainbows Fly Out Of My Anal Orifice. "Please. I can bang old men and get paid for it, I'm not about to do it for free unless there's something in it for me." Looking smug as silence filled the table next to them, certain parts of that sentence (bang, for instance) may have been emphasized for that very outcome. You could take the girl out of the trailer park, but you couldn't take the trailer park out of the girl, it seemed. "And I'm getting a degree. What's more to tell?"
"Whether or not you intend to study for it, or 'banging' old men is the epitome of your life's achievements. Hit twenty-five, kiddo, and nature's gifts will start to droop. Either your trick-turning will get less lucrative, or you'll have engaged yourself to a man whose passing interest you'll have captured when nubile enough to do so, and frantically trying to keep it. Alternatively, you could use the undoubtedly sharp brain you have in your head, that currently is severely under-used and make something of yourself."
The pot of tea was set down on the table with great ceremony, and Gray smiled politely at the waiter in white gloves who had done so.
"Oh. And I'm including all overt and blunt sexual references under the banner of crudetries. Find another way to express yourself, Bloom. That SAT vocabulary I know you memorised."
Twenty-five? By previous reincarnation standards, that bordered on geriatrich for the dwarf; Rose was going to be lucky if she made it to twenty, and if her death didn't come at the hands of Anser in the observatory with a candle-stick. But Jesus fucking CHRIST, did the woman NOT SHUT UP? It was one long eye-rolling pep talk, and the girl could almost TASTE the vomit in her mouth. Sorry, Gray, there was no fucking way she was about to chuck a Jula Roberts and wait around for Richard Gere's limousine horn.
Interrupted from her mental disdain by some penguin serving some shit that looked like swamp water, Rose didn't give them a look. If she couldn't flash them, where was the entertainment value? "Shall we frolic in the gaeity of potation henceforth? Whilst verily ostracizing mention of the refreshment's aesthetic congruence to offal waste or detritus matter?"
There was a sliver of a smile that managed to get past Gray's seemingly mask-like calm, and glinted warmth from someone who managed to make 'ice-like cold' a positive fashion-statement these days.
"Let's not. Drink your tea," she instructed. "I am correct, you have a brain you haven't managed to pickle or curdle yet. Words astound me, etcetera. Tell me, are you not exceedingly bored by the waste of space that is your current existence? You could do more, you know. You're a smart girl, Rose. And your aspirations are limited to a higher class of kerb-crawling. It's pathetic. Cake? "
The compliment, dropped as it was with an utter lack of grace, apparent interest or anything else, into the conversation, seemed to be just a bland statement of fact.
She took the smallest sip, before making great show of hacking, coughing, and general signs of disgust. Not that it was actually anywhere near the poisonous level its appearance gave off; but the girl had a petulant reputation to keep here.
Feigned fits aside, however, her smug expression post perceived Adams victory was short lived as the woman went into ANOTHER FREAKING LECTURE. She was like Bill fucking Clinton, she just NEVER STOPPED COMING. "Tell me, are you not exceedingly bored with your martyr act? Mother Gray, patron Saint to ickle teens who just lost their way? That could REALLY make something of themselves? Chocolate." Her lips quirked. "Just like the fire fighter I, how to put this delicately? Had coital relationships with last week."
Gray's expression was unreadable and she deliberately yawned.
"Do you have anything else to talk about besides sex? It's becoming vastily dull. Find new material." There was a touch more steel undercut in her voice, careful boredom. That Rose had touched perhaps a sore spot? We'll pass over that.
And score two for her. Though the lack of reaction to her chocolate comment had her eye twitching; she fucking HATED being ignored. "Yes, let's fill America's current favorite past time and chat about Obama. Aren't you just INSPIRED? He just lifts my spirits, you know. And with Oprah backing him, not because they're both niggers, you know, but because she's a BELIEVER, how can he ever lose?" Her eyes rolled, she hadn't picked up a newspaper in two weeks to avoid being bored to fucking death by Obama the idiot.
Gray's expression was that of someone who has just stepped in something unspeakably foul, but reserved especially for Rose. It was not a nice, or a pretty expression, particularly worn on a face that tried for warmth. But Rose had just crossed one of the lines Gray Adams had drawn very early in life, and the slight snap of her teeth as she set down her cup had an altogether too-feline snarl to it.
Her voice was deceptively calm as she spoke. "I will make one thing absolutely clear as fucking crystal, Bloom. In my presence, all and any racist, or otherwise disgustingly low-class comments will not be made. As you apparently have not learned, only the pig-ignorant and white-trash have nothing better to say. You may express all and any opinions you have, political or otherwise, without resorting to such language. Am I understood? And apologise."
There was an altogether feral sort of anger beneath her words.
The laughter she let out after the woman's outburst was loud, perhaps too loud, with undertones of force. There was no other appropriate response (apologize? What was she? On fucking CRACK? Rose B. Bloom didn't apologize for ANYTHING); but shit. Shit, as Tyra would say, the bitch was fierce. Not that the girl was a faithful watcher of America's Next Top Model or anything. Of course not.
But Tyraisms aside, the tirade was ignored for the most part, where in all others, it would have been met with side-cracking hysterics. Because Rose hadn't seen Gay Adams this angry since the day she'd told her she'd made up claims her mother "touched her" to get away from the woman. "Whatever, Adams. Oprah supports the whining idiot because both their ancestors were enslaved at some point. The man's hot air and inspirational music. It makes me want to puke up my citizenship and move to crapping Mexico."
"Should I buy 'bon voyage' streamers in bulk?" Gray said dryly, "I'm sure Manhattan will miss the puerile insults. Try and find an alternate way of expressing 'whining idiot'. Use your words," the underlying mockery was deeply, deeply scored. "Why do you dislike his policies? Alternatively, find a topic that hasn't been hashed to death."
The waiter set down the tray of cakes with a worried look at Rose. It wasn't often they came dresed in anything but official Catholic schoolgirl get-ups to have afternoon tea.
"If you can chew with your mouth closed, I'd be eternally grateful."
"Use my words? What are you, my first grade teacher? Ending the Iraq war. Stupidest idea since Hitler's parents decided to copulate. Soldiers NEED to be stationed there, the Iraqis can't handle themselves. Prioritizing energy independence? How about we prioritize the fact that we're hyper-power of the universe, but sixteenth on the poverty index? We're the SECOND HIGHEST Economically developed country with that poverty rate, but Obama thinks prioritizing some crappy little energy scheme is important? Talk to me about fucking energy and global warming when we get money to schools, kids with three meals a day, and start setting the fucking example we're supposed to. Lead by words and deads? It's bull. He's an inspirational calendar trapped in human form, and he doesn't see bloody reality." She'd run out of breath. And sat there for a good three seconds in shock at the pansy-ass disgustingly weepy rant that had just removed itself from her mouth.
"He's fugly too." Taking a bite of her cake, she chewed with her mouth open. Rebellion, it was the bread to her butter.
"You look like a cow with cud," Gray remarked, still somewhat shocked by the production of a clear, concise and intelligent argument that the girl opposite had miraculously managed to conjure from the deep resources of her much abused, misaligned brain.
It was a decent argument, too. "So you'd have government prioritise the inequalities at home?" Gray nodded thoughtfully. "Do you speak to your mother at all?" It was a conversational bomb tossed in with all the airiness of someone playing frisbee. "I imagine if the people in government had ever experienced the sort of problems or background of those whose lives they deal with, they'd think differently."
She didn't miss a beat. "Must look like your mom then." Looking around the room, she made very certain to pause as she caught on over sixty-five's eye, and continue her obnoxious open-mouthed chewing at them.
Her head snapped back, however, when her mother was mentioned. What was she fucking ON? The day she ever paid a little house call on the fucking woman who birthed her, WAS THE DAY SHE SEWED FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS WITH THE BAND WHORE. "Like I'd waste two dollars of phone credit speaking to the cu- bi- who- thing. She served as a womb. She did her part." And waving a dismissive hand, it was clear any further discussion on the much abused mother of Rose Bloom was over. "And I imagine for that to happen, college needs to be cheaper, soanyone with any background can get an education and go into government. If your parents can't afford it, not like you're going to any place but McDonald's to work."
"How exactly are you managing?" Gray hadn't missed Rose's self-censorship in action but gave not a flicker of acknowledgement of it. Acknowledging - let alone praising her, would give her the idea that it was worthy of praise to be an acceptable human being.
"You could do it," she suggested now, with apparently idle interest. "Pre-requisite background, extensive skeletons in the closet for opponents to extract. And of course," with a fully-fledged grin, "You'd slice your opponents' arguments into shreds." A compliment. From Adams. Rarer than hen's teeth.
The inquiry into her well-being was ignored. Gay could find some OTHER bullshit teen to mother. She could have cunt-face-Reilly.
Oh, fuck NO. Here it fucking came again. The SELF IMPROVEMENT shit. Didn't she fucking get it? She LIKED her life, she LIKED taking her clothes off, she LIKED making elderly grandmothers cry for the future generation. she fucking LIKED it. "I'll be a regular little Lifetime channel movie. Piss off. I'd rather go bestial with a reindeer than make nice with twats." Finishing the last of her cake (Jesus fucking CHRIST she needed to buy something healthy for dinner; she wasn't going to end up on chub chaser Al's list of fantasies, thanks), the compliment was a change. A change. Not good or fucking bad, but a change. "I'm here to skewer the bear prince, maybe make a few bucks on the side. Not become your little pet project."
Gray owed her grooming to a veritable army of cosmeticians from East-Asian countries who managed to cram a twenty minute eyebrow session into the five minutes she had available, and then charged her the price of a small country for the privilege. However, indulging in this meant one very sleek eyebrow curved upward as Rose attempted to flout the last of her rules, and then settled back into a deceptively mild, carefully blank expression as it was omitted.
"How nice to see you've discovered new avenues and made new friends in the years in between," she said, utterly dead-pan. "Unfortunately, I make it a habit not to bring weaponry to tea. So we'll have to make do." Her fingers curled around her water glass, took a sip.
"How is school? I assume occasionally you attend to do more than proposition your professors?
Reply
A yawn was feigned as the woman mentioned school. Jesus fucking CHRIST, didn't she have babies to hug or something? Talking about tertiary education was possibly about as exciting as conversing with BG Bitch Guts Rainbows Fly Out Of My Anal Orifice. "Please. I can bang old men and get paid for it, I'm not about to do it for free unless there's something in it for me." Looking smug as silence filled the table next to them, certain parts of that sentence (bang, for instance) may have been emphasized for that very outcome. You could take the girl out of the trailer park, but you couldn't take the trailer park out of the girl, it seemed. "And I'm getting a degree. What's more to tell?"
Reply
"Whether or not you intend to study for it, or 'banging' old men is the epitome of your life's achievements. Hit twenty-five, kiddo, and nature's gifts will start to droop. Either your trick-turning will get less lucrative, or you'll have engaged yourself to a man whose passing interest you'll have captured when nubile enough to do so, and frantically trying to keep it. Alternatively, you could use the undoubtedly sharp brain you have in your head, that currently is severely under-used and make something of yourself."
The pot of tea was set down on the table with great ceremony, and Gray smiled politely at the waiter in white gloves who had done so.
"Oh. And I'm including all overt and blunt sexual references under the banner of crudetries. Find another way to express yourself, Bloom. That SAT vocabulary I know you memorised."
Reply
Interrupted from her mental disdain by some penguin serving some shit that looked like swamp water, Rose didn't give them a look. If she couldn't flash them, where was the entertainment value? "Shall we frolic in the gaeity of potation henceforth? Whilst verily ostracizing mention of the refreshment's aesthetic congruence to offal waste or detritus matter?"
That's right. Suck on that, Adams.
Reply
There was a sliver of a smile that managed to get past Gray's seemingly mask-like calm, and glinted warmth from someone who managed to make 'ice-like cold' a positive fashion-statement these days.
"Let's not. Drink your tea," she instructed. "I am correct, you have a brain you haven't managed to pickle or curdle yet. Words astound me, etcetera. Tell me, are you not exceedingly bored by the waste of space that is your current existence? You could do more, you know. You're a smart girl, Rose. And your aspirations are limited to a higher class of kerb-crawling. It's pathetic. Cake? "
The compliment, dropped as it was with an utter lack of grace, apparent interest or anything else, into the conversation, seemed to be just a bland statement of fact.
Reply
Feigned fits aside, however, her smug expression post perceived Adams victory was short lived as the woman went into ANOTHER FREAKING LECTURE. She was like Bill fucking Clinton, she just NEVER STOPPED COMING. "Tell me, are you not exceedingly bored with your martyr act? Mother Gray, patron Saint to ickle teens who just lost their way? That could REALLY make something of themselves? Chocolate." Her lips quirked. "Just like the fire fighter I, how to put this delicately? Had coital relationships with last week."
Reply
Gray's expression was unreadable and she deliberately yawned.
"Do you have anything else to talk about besides sex? It's becoming vastily dull. Find new material." There was a touch more steel undercut in her voice, careful boredom. That Rose had touched perhaps a sore spot? We'll pass over that.
Reply
Reply
Her voice was deceptively calm as she spoke. "I will make one thing absolutely clear as fucking crystal, Bloom. In my presence, all and any racist, or otherwise disgustingly low-class comments will not be made. As you apparently have not learned, only the pig-ignorant and white-trash have nothing better to say. You may express all and any opinions you have, political or otherwise, without resorting to such language. Am I understood? And apologise."
There was an altogether feral sort of anger beneath her words.
Reply
But Tyraisms aside, the tirade was ignored for the most part, where in all others, it would have been met with side-cracking hysterics. Because Rose hadn't seen Gay Adams this angry since the day she'd told her she'd made up claims her mother "touched her" to get away from the woman. "Whatever, Adams. Oprah supports the whining idiot because both their ancestors were enslaved at some point. The man's hot air and inspirational music. It makes me want to puke up my citizenship and move to crapping Mexico."
Reply
"Should I buy 'bon voyage' streamers in bulk?" Gray said dryly, "I'm sure Manhattan will miss the puerile insults. Try and find an alternate way of expressing 'whining idiot'. Use your words," the underlying mockery was deeply, deeply scored. "Why do you dislike his policies? Alternatively, find a topic that hasn't been hashed to death."
The waiter set down the tray of cakes with a worried look at Rose. It wasn't often they came dresed in anything but official Catholic schoolgirl get-ups to have afternoon tea.
"If you can chew with your mouth closed, I'd be eternally grateful."
Reply
"He's fugly too." Taking a bite of her cake, she chewed with her mouth open. Rebellion, it was the bread to her butter.
Reply
It was a decent argument, too. "So you'd have government prioritise the inequalities at home?" Gray nodded thoughtfully. "Do you speak to your mother at all?" It was a conversational bomb tossed in with all the airiness of someone playing frisbee. "I imagine if the people in government had ever experienced the sort of problems or background of those whose lives they deal with, they'd think differently."
Reply
Her head snapped back, however, when her mother was mentioned. What was she fucking ON? The day she ever paid a little house call on the fucking woman who birthed her, WAS THE DAY SHE SEWED FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS WITH THE BAND WHORE. "Like I'd waste two dollars of phone credit speaking to the cu- bi- who- thing. She served as a womb. She did her part." And waving a dismissive hand, it was clear any further discussion on the much abused mother of Rose Bloom was over. "And I imagine for that to happen, college needs to be cheaper, soanyone with any background can get an education and go into government. If your parents can't afford it, not like you're going to any place but McDonald's to work."
Reply
"How exactly are you managing?" Gray hadn't missed Rose's self-censorship in action but gave not a flicker of acknowledgement of it. Acknowledging - let alone praising her, would give her the idea that it was worthy of praise to be an acceptable human being.
"You could do it," she suggested now, with apparently idle interest. "Pre-requisite background, extensive skeletons in the closet for opponents to extract. And of course," with a fully-fledged grin, "You'd slice your opponents' arguments into shreds." A compliment. From Adams. Rarer than hen's teeth.
Reply
Oh, fuck NO. Here it fucking came again. The SELF IMPROVEMENT shit. Didn't she fucking get it? She LIKED her life, she LIKED taking her clothes off, she LIKED making elderly grandmothers cry for the future generation. she fucking LIKED it. "I'll be a regular little Lifetime channel movie. Piss off. I'd rather go bestial with a reindeer than make nice with twats." Finishing the last of her cake (Jesus fucking CHRIST she needed to buy something healthy for dinner; she wasn't going to end up on chub chaser Al's list of fantasies, thanks), the compliment was a change. A change. Not good or fucking bad, but a change. "I'm here to skewer the bear prince, maybe make a few bucks on the side. Not become your little pet project."
Reply
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