Lacey Thornfield / The Middleman / Milliways
It's not every day a certain struggling artist opens the door to what she thinks is the illegal sublet she shares (with her best friend, another photogenic young artist) and ends up walking into some kind of bar (where said friend is nowhere to be found).
Lacey shrugs one shoulder to shift the weight of her messenger bag full of art supplies, scrunches up her forehead in thought, and squints as her eyes adjust to the dimmer light.
"... Dub-Dub?"
So far, there seems to be no sign of Wendy - or Noser, for that matter. Even the sight of Wendy's sexy hot boss might make her feel a little better.
She turns to look over her shoulder, and that's when she sees that her door is gone. Kaput. Vanished.
"Whoa."
[ ooc: trying out a new headvoice before the app cycle; also, a reposting. all tags welcome! ]
Lacey shrugs one shoulder to shift the weight of her messenger bag full of art supplies, scrunches up her forehead in thought, and squints as her eyes adjust to the dimmer light.
"... Dub-Dub?"
So far, there seems to be no sign of Wendy - or Noser, for that matter. Even the sight of Wendy's sexy hot boss might make her feel a little better.
She turns to look over her shoulder, and that's when she sees that her door is gone. Kaput. Vanished.
"Whoa."
[ ooc: trying out a new headvoice before the app cycle; also, a reposting. all tags welcome! ]