a shame you seemed an honest man
So Penelope is in Xanadu today looking somewhat less chic than usual. For anyone who knows her, this would be cause enough for concern, but when she lights her cigarette and takes a drag, the way her hands shake is more than a little unsettling in itself.
Besides that, she looks just about as annoyed and jaded as usual.
"So, bitches be trying to kill me now. Those of you who know me", and the way she stresses that phrase shows more than a hint of irony hitting its mark, "know I've got a little problem with stalkers from beyond the pale, which has been fun. It's like having my own little paparazzi, only they didn't ever take pictures, they just stared at me with their empty eyes."
Penelope pauses to smoke, here, and stares at the ground, like the memory of it is trying to manifest on her face and the only way she can prevent that is the generous application of nicotine. Heaven forbid she allow anyone to think she is capable of emotions other than "bitchy" or "trolling".
"Except for how now they're actively trying to kill me, which involves putting their actual hands on me and shoving me out into traffic. Like it would be one thing if they did it directly but the fact that they're apparently trying to make it look like an accident is just the worst ever fucking thing, because how do you even prevent that, besides never leaving your house? And I have to do that, I mean, bitches got to get paid. I figured since this place is full of fucking weirdos and madmen that maybe somebody would have some relevant advice."
Her cigarette makes its way back to her lips, and she mutters, "Worth a shot, anyway."
Besides that, she looks just about as annoyed and jaded as usual.
"So, bitches be trying to kill me now. Those of you who know me", and the way she stresses that phrase shows more than a hint of irony hitting its mark, "know I've got a little problem with stalkers from beyond the pale, which has been fun. It's like having my own little paparazzi, only they didn't ever take pictures, they just stared at me with their empty eyes."
Penelope pauses to smoke, here, and stares at the ground, like the memory of it is trying to manifest on her face and the only way she can prevent that is the generous application of nicotine. Heaven forbid she allow anyone to think she is capable of emotions other than "bitchy" or "trolling".
"Except for how now they're actively trying to kill me, which involves putting their actual hands on me and shoving me out into traffic. Like it would be one thing if they did it directly but the fact that they're apparently trying to make it look like an accident is just the worst ever fucking thing, because how do you even prevent that, besides never leaving your house? And I have to do that, I mean, bitches got to get paid. I figured since this place is full of fucking weirdos and madmen that maybe somebody would have some relevant advice."
Her cigarette makes its way back to her lips, and she mutters, "Worth a shot, anyway."