Second floor common room, Thursday after classes
Marilyn Steerpike was attempting to do her his make-up in her his reflection in a soup pot. She would never be a real star if she wasn't beautiful, after all. She really probably shouldn't have eaten that cupcake at lunch. It would go straight to her his hips.
It's probably best not to ask where she got the make up. Or the white dress. Or the wig.
Seriously. Don't ask.
[ooc: open, though may have patches of rather slow play due to me being at work for another 4 1/2 hours. I apologize for the icon. At 1 am, I thought it was the height of visual wit and humor. . . .]
It's probably best not to ask where she got the make up. Or the white dress. Or the wig.
Seriously. Don't ask.
[ooc: open, though may have patches of rather slow play due to me being at work for another 4 1/2 hours. I apologize for the icon. At 1 am, I thought it was the height of visual wit and humor. . . .]