Freya walks into the Nexus, thumbing through a random fashion magazine. A half-dozen more are tucked under one arm, and the remains of another are being batted about by her cats. Suddenly she stops, turning the magazine sideways. "Well, that must take a lot of work to get into," she mutters to herself
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((Fire away))
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((Dude. Feel free to hate me.))
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"Well then it would probably really throw me off."
((so.. much.. hate...))
((sorry about the reply above, I was in a hurry and read the wrong one, lol))
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((It's no trouble. And you're welcome.))
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"That's not funny. Where are my clothes?"
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