Demon Marcus, Wednesday, All Day
Well. Callie was having a miserable day. She had been a pony this weekend, she'd been squawked at by fake Manbirds in class -- even if that one was her own fault -- and she couldn't believe she was stuck on this stupid island to begin with. Only one thing helped when she was in this foul a mood -- well, two, but let's be polite in a public post.
So Callie was going through the new shipment of shoes that came in. What? She was allowed to be girly. Just because she was a demon didn't mean she wasn't a girl. And if opening your own shop just so you could buy designer items from yourself at wholesale prices was wrong, then she didn't want to be right. Because Callie couldn't own too many Blahniks, that was why.
The Help Wanted sign was still in the window.
(Same as before: clothes for differing species, body types, and odd requests; souvenirs from (New) Hell; accessories and shoes!)
So Callie was going through the new shipment of shoes that came in. What? She was allowed to be girly. Just because she was a demon didn't mean she wasn't a girl. And if opening your own shop just so you could buy designer items from yourself at wholesale prices was wrong, then she didn't want to be right. Because Callie couldn't own too many Blahniks, that was why.
The Help Wanted sign was still in the window.
(Same as before: clothes for differing species, body types, and odd requests; souvenirs from (New) Hell; accessories and shoes!)