And hello, JD. Meet Maia. Maia is a demon who has a beef with Carla and might just have you as her next meal if you annoy her sufficiently.
'This isn't exactly a home,' Maia drawls from her carefully-planned perch (to look just cool enough), leaning on the wall. 'If it were, I'd be shrieking and running around trying to find someone to behead you.'
What? He's American. He might be stupid enough to believe her. Her eyes flicker up and down him, and she smirks. 'Aren't you sweet. All--buttery and slightly disoriented.'
"Actually, funny story," I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall, as was protocol for 'funny story' time. "About thirty percent of the homes featured in Better Homes and Gardens are not -are you ready for this?- actually homes. No one lives there!"
Crazy! My voice got a little higher pitched, due to the crazy hilarity of the Better Homes debacle.
...which the girl next to me who had just paid a compliment might not have found so funny.
Awesome.
"Not that I have a subscription," I said, saving face. Trying to lean against the wall more - so as to improve my James Dean look - I was reminded why it was important to take a shower immediately after Butter War. I lost my balance, falling flat on my butt.
If she had a cigarette, she would so be blowing the smoke in his face.
'Pity. If you did, I might actually have had something to talk to you about.' Maia smirks, injoking with herself. 'Yeah, cushions and cream upholstery are really my thing.' There was, after all, that time when they drove an entire family ought of their home (deaths, crimes, affairs--humans are so fragile) and then totally trashed the place. Maia's tone is, as ever, sarcastic.
'Also, that story wasn't funny,' she points out, looking down at him and sneering, glossy black hair flipped behind her.
'This isn't exactly a home,' Maia drawls from her carefully-planned perch (to look just cool enough), leaning on the wall. 'If it were, I'd be shrieking and running around trying to find someone to behead you.'
What? He's American. He might be stupid enough to believe her. Her eyes flicker up and down him, and she smirks. 'Aren't you sweet. All--buttery and slightly disoriented.'
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Crazy! My voice got a little higher pitched, due to the crazy hilarity of the Better Homes debacle.
...which the girl next to me who had just paid a compliment might not have found so funny.
Awesome.
"Not that I have a subscription," I said, saving face. Trying to lean against the wall more - so as to improve my James Dean look - I was reminded why it was important to take a shower immediately after Butter War. I lost my balance, falling flat on my butt.
My toned butt, for the ladies at home!
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'Pity. If you did, I might actually have had something to talk to you about.' Maia smirks, injoking with herself. 'Yeah, cushions and cream upholstery are really my thing.' There was, after all, that time when they drove an entire family ought of their home (deaths, crimes, affairs--humans are so fragile) and then totally trashed the place. Maia's tone is, as ever, sarcastic.
'Also, that story wasn't funny,' she points out, looking down at him and sneering, glossy black hair flipped behind her.
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But this was one sarchasm that couldn't be crossed.
See what I did there? You see?
"Nah, I guess not." I shrugged, looking around the hall. "So...I should probably be getting back to work." Pause. "I'm a doctor."
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