(no subject)
I'm too Sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my-
"Oh ha bloody ha. Right Said Fred, hardly original now is it? What is that? The hundredth time you've played it for me," Monet said dryly, barely looking up from the issue of Vanity Fair she was reading. Her image graced the cover, the words beneath it reading Monet St. Croix bares all. A rather bad choice of wording if you asked her. It wasn't like she'd bare her soul to her friends to her teammates let alone to the press.
No way I'm disco dancing!
She turned the page, gritting her teeth as she tried to drown out the continual sound of trashy British pop music. Whilst she might have enjoyed listening to it at home-on occasion- it was completely different when a sadistic jukebox had it on loop every time she walked into the room and if it wasn't that then it seemed to just love playing Vogue at her. Not Madonna's finest of songs.
I'm a model and you know what I mean
Scrunching the magazine in her hands, she gritted her teeth and tried not to scowl too much. Ew. Frown lines. She just wanted one hour of peace when she didn't have to think about her de-powering, her loss of her team, her brother or any of that. When she didn't have to contemplate being M anymore, when she could just be herself. Just one hour to be Monet and not wear a mask for anyone.
I shake my little touche on the catwalk
Turning the large twisted wad of paper in her hands, she threw it angrily at the jukebox and swallowed a scream of frustration. She'd survived worse then this but somehow she'd rather have her brother in the room with her then spend one more minute with that thing. At least she'd feel some satisfaction from fighting with her brother, fighting with an inanimate object was just pathetic.
I'm too sexy for my-
Picking up her shirt, she stormed out of the building and headed off down the path. At least out here she could at least think. At least out here she didn't have to listen to that piece of electronic idiocy all day. Pulling the shirt over the bikini, she tied her long hair out of her way as she made her way down to the beach. Perhaps a nice long relaxing swim was in order. That or at least finding someone she could punch.
[[Find M either in the Compound or along the path to the beach. ST/LT as always is fine.]]
"Oh ha bloody ha. Right Said Fred, hardly original now is it? What is that? The hundredth time you've played it for me," Monet said dryly, barely looking up from the issue of Vanity Fair she was reading. Her image graced the cover, the words beneath it reading Monet St. Croix bares all. A rather bad choice of wording if you asked her. It wasn't like she'd bare her soul to her friends to her teammates let alone to the press.
No way I'm disco dancing!
She turned the page, gritting her teeth as she tried to drown out the continual sound of trashy British pop music. Whilst she might have enjoyed listening to it at home-on occasion- it was completely different when a sadistic jukebox had it on loop every time she walked into the room and if it wasn't that then it seemed to just love playing Vogue at her. Not Madonna's finest of songs.
I'm a model and you know what I mean
Scrunching the magazine in her hands, she gritted her teeth and tried not to scowl too much. Ew. Frown lines. She just wanted one hour of peace when she didn't have to think about her de-powering, her loss of her team, her brother or any of that. When she didn't have to contemplate being M anymore, when she could just be herself. Just one hour to be Monet and not wear a mask for anyone.
I shake my little touche on the catwalk
Turning the large twisted wad of paper in her hands, she threw it angrily at the jukebox and swallowed a scream of frustration. She'd survived worse then this but somehow she'd rather have her brother in the room with her then spend one more minute with that thing. At least she'd feel some satisfaction from fighting with her brother, fighting with an inanimate object was just pathetic.
I'm too sexy for my-
Picking up her shirt, she stormed out of the building and headed off down the path. At least out here she could at least think. At least out here she didn't have to listen to that piece of electronic idiocy all day. Pulling the shirt over the bikini, she tied her long hair out of her way as she made her way down to the beach. Perhaps a nice long relaxing swim was in order. That or at least finding someone she could punch.
[[Find M either in the Compound or along the path to the beach. ST/LT as always is fine.]]