(no subject)
There were a lot of things that Maureen missed about New York. She missed clubs, and she missed street corner musicians, and she missed her shitty apartment, and she missed being able to put on something tight and go out and pick up a hot guy or a hot girl and take them home. She missed a city of millions of people.
But one the she loved at the island? The magic jukebox. That was killer.
She recognized the song the second she walked into the rec room. Damn, what a great beat. She started snapping her fingers with the bass immediately, and then before the lyrics started, kicked off her shoes and jumped right up on the couch.
"My baby, he don't talk sweet, he ain't got much to say.... but he loves me, loves me, loves me, I know that he loves me anyway... and maybe he don't dress fine, but I don't really mind... 'cause every time he pulls me near, I just wanna cheer, LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE BOYS! Let's give the boy a hand, let's hear it for my baby, you've gotta understand... maybe he's no Romeo, but he's a lovin' one man show, let's hear it for the boys..."
She wondered if her life was still a musical like it had apparently been back in New York. If so, there ought to be someone coming in to dance with her any second.
[OOC: For maximum Maureen flirting and/or complaining about the disgraceful percentage of straight men and gay women, you can tag in assuming that Jack has just left and Maureen is lounging on the couch.]
But one the she loved at the island? The magic jukebox. That was killer.
She recognized the song the second she walked into the rec room. Damn, what a great beat. She started snapping her fingers with the bass immediately, and then before the lyrics started, kicked off her shoes and jumped right up on the couch.
"My baby, he don't talk sweet, he ain't got much to say.... but he loves me, loves me, loves me, I know that he loves me anyway... and maybe he don't dress fine, but I don't really mind... 'cause every time he pulls me near, I just wanna cheer, LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE BOYS! Let's give the boy a hand, let's hear it for my baby, you've gotta understand... maybe he's no Romeo, but he's a lovin' one man show, let's hear it for the boys..."
She wondered if her life was still a musical like it had apparently been back in New York. If so, there ought to be someone coming in to dance with her any second.
[OOC: For maximum Maureen flirting and/or complaining about the disgraceful percentage of straight men and gay women, you can tag in assuming that Jack has just left and Maureen is lounging on the couch.]