Room 327, Saturday Morning
It took Juliet a moment to realize where she was when she woke up. The room was too small, the bed too narrow, and the light ... the light was distinctly not flattering.
There was probably no one at the reunion to bring her her usual cup of tea in bed, either.
She grumbled to herself a bit as she rummaged around to find some clothes. She would have booked a hotel room, but she'd decided on a lark to stay in the dorms to blend in. Stupid decision; the TV show was between seasons, so she wasn't even going to get some footage of herself with old school friends as a reward. She'd asked them to make an exception and send out a cameraman with her, but they said she wasn't even the chief ratings draw anymore. It was absurd -- even if she wasn't the one with an advice book on the bestseller list just then, she was still the only Darling they had.
Once she was dressed, she'd have to call home to check that the nanny was getting Colette to her Saturday baby ballet class, and not making excuses about how Colette wasn't even walking properly yet. Motherhood was such a chore.
[OOC: Cracked door, open post.]
There was probably no one at the reunion to bring her her usual cup of tea in bed, either.
She grumbled to herself a bit as she rummaged around to find some clothes. She would have booked a hotel room, but she'd decided on a lark to stay in the dorms to blend in. Stupid decision; the TV show was between seasons, so she wasn't even going to get some footage of herself with old school friends as a reward. She'd asked them to make an exception and send out a cameraman with her, but they said she wasn't even the chief ratings draw anymore. It was absurd -- even if she wasn't the one with an advice book on the bestseller list just then, she was still the only Darling they had.
Once she was dressed, she'd have to call home to check that the nanny was getting Colette to her Saturday baby ballet class, and not making excuses about how Colette wasn't even walking properly yet. Motherhood was such a chore.
[OOC: Cracked door, open post.]