Only Women Can Be Badass Perfectly
WHO: Aziza, Hak Soo
WHEN: Tuesday, Sept. 1st, 1 pm
WHERE: Un-named nail salon in Huayuan
WHAT: Hun, these girls can't do nails. No, no they can not.
"You can do dis, hun. Dis is da last salon in dis part of town. One last shot 'ere." Aziza mumbled under her breath. The self pep talk wasn't working well though and she could still feel the swirl of nervous critters squirming around her stomach. "Just don't complain about deir nails. Hold your damn tongue..." The long and colorful skirt rustled slightly as she went up and pushed the door in for the more upscale Asian owned nail salon. The sickeningly sweet smell of nail chemicals and other such things were sure to stick to her off the shoulder shirt and skirt for days to come.
"Excuse me. I 'ave an appointment wid de manager." The woman manning the counter gave the african woman a once over before she bothered to move, only shifting forward to start clacking away at her little computer. 'Those nails! Did one of the woman here do them? That gap needs to be fixed...' she thought idly. It seemed the woman finally found what she had been looking for. "Name please."
"Aziza Macalinweyne. M-a-c-l-i-n-w-e-y-n-e." The problems surrounding her last name were both numerous and annoying. It was better to just spell it out to lessen the questioning.
"Alright Miss. Follow me." It was clear the receptionist would rather be doing something other than leading someone to the back rooms where they could be easily re-directed to. Aziza was left alone in front of a small office, waiting only a few minutes before she was asked in by another prim Asian woman with slightly wild blonde streaking. Hopefully this interview would go better than the one a few days ago had.
Several minutes later she couldn't stop herself and made an off-hand, almost obscure comment about the nails she'd seen on the receptionist and the manager herself. It sparked a slowly heated argument which turned into full out shouting that had the manager switching into what Aziza could only assume was Vietnamese or something of the sort and she was being forced towards the door herself.
"I don't care if your girls 'ave degrees! The craftsmanship is 'orrible!" she was arguing right back, stopping in the middle of the establishment to turn and argue with the woman again, refusing to budge even if it cause a scene.
WHEN: Tuesday, Sept. 1st, 1 pm
WHERE: Un-named nail salon in Huayuan
WHAT: Hun, these girls can't do nails. No, no they can not.
"You can do dis, hun. Dis is da last salon in dis part of town. One last shot 'ere." Aziza mumbled under her breath. The self pep talk wasn't working well though and she could still feel the swirl of nervous critters squirming around her stomach. "Just don't complain about deir nails. Hold your damn tongue..." The long and colorful skirt rustled slightly as she went up and pushed the door in for the more upscale Asian owned nail salon. The sickeningly sweet smell of nail chemicals and other such things were sure to stick to her off the shoulder shirt and skirt for days to come.
"Excuse me. I 'ave an appointment wid de manager." The woman manning the counter gave the african woman a once over before she bothered to move, only shifting forward to start clacking away at her little computer. 'Those nails! Did one of the woman here do them? That gap needs to be fixed...' she thought idly. It seemed the woman finally found what she had been looking for. "Name please."
"Aziza Macalinweyne. M-a-c-l-i-n-w-e-y-n-e." The problems surrounding her last name were both numerous and annoying. It was better to just spell it out to lessen the questioning.
"Alright Miss. Follow me." It was clear the receptionist would rather be doing something other than leading someone to the back rooms where they could be easily re-directed to. Aziza was left alone in front of a small office, waiting only a few minutes before she was asked in by another prim Asian woman with slightly wild blonde streaking. Hopefully this interview would go better than the one a few days ago had.
Several minutes later she couldn't stop herself and made an off-hand, almost obscure comment about the nails she'd seen on the receptionist and the manager herself. It sparked a slowly heated argument which turned into full out shouting that had the manager switching into what Aziza could only assume was Vietnamese or something of the sort and she was being forced towards the door herself.
"I don't care if your girls 'ave degrees! The craftsmanship is 'orrible!" she was arguing right back, stopping in the middle of the establishment to turn and argue with the woman again, refusing to budge even if it cause a scene.