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Name: (Ch)Rissy/Riss | Gender: Goddess | Posts: 4,070 | Roses: 100
Old 12-16-2010 at 03:10 AM
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 Post [21] »


Asthon Greene

“You most certainly will be,”
Lucian said with what Ashton liked to think was a smile, so she gave him one back, thankful for the compliment, however untrue the circumstances were. “If you need any help with your studies, let me know. I’d be glad to tutor you.”

And just as quickly as it appeared, her smile vanished. He was on the verge of catching her in a lie. She had to think fast. She had to think now. She had to lie again.

“You know, I really should go.” What did she say? That she was getting cold? That she needed dinner? Those didn’t really excuse her from the conversation. “I have a midnight curfew at the college. I could lose my scholarship money if I’m not there in time.”

It sounded good enough, but…

Ashton! You dumb blonde! You’ve used that line before! Remember? The second time you two had a conversation. He taught you about the art of excuses. After he offended you a bit, you used that!

But this time, it made more sense. At least, she hoped it did


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Old 12-16-2010 at 03:45 AM
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Lucian Michaud

Why was Lucian imagining himself sitting beside Ashton in a library, a thick tome of international trade regulations between them; Lucian, finding little excuses to scoot closer to her, hand brushing hers as he indicated the text?

“You know, I really should go.”

And you really should stop thinking that way, he chided himself. When you were studying political science, Ashton wasn’t even born.

He shook his head and dismissed the thought. It had been school-boyish. Immature. Fleeting. Lucian was just lonely and tonight was his anniversary. He craved human contact and the image of him and Ashton getting cosy over a textbook might as well have been a memory from his college days with Natalie. That part was just wistful, lonesome thinking.

The offer to help was not. Lucian wouldn’t have minded lending a hand.

But Ashton neither accepted nor rejected it. She just said she had to go. Lucian tensed up for a moment.

She knows what you were thinking of, he thought suddenly. And now she thinks you’re a creep.

“I have a midnight curfew at the college. I could lose my scholarship money if I’m not there in time.”

“Ah, I see,” Lucian said, blinking, accepting the excuse. “Would you like me to walk you back to campus?”
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Old 12-16-2010 at 04:21 AM
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Ashton Greene

“Ah, I see,”
Lucian said, his blinking seeming to believe her. Ashton sighed, relieved that her excuse was passable. “Would you like me to walk you back to campus?”

Again, Ashton grew tense, feeling her knees lock up, both out of fear of being caught in her own lie, and from the cold. “No!” she said quickly. “Sorry. That came out weird.” She passed it off with a laugh. “I meant ‘no thank you’. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Ashton considered telling him something about the strict ‘no boys’ rule, but never in her life had she lied this much in as little as ten minutes. Her knees began to knock. She bounced around a bit to warm up, shoving her hands hard into her pockets to keep them warm and cozy inside them. “Good night, Lucian” she said, almost a bit too proper. “I’ll see you later. Feel free to come to the shows whenever you want. I can get you a comp ticket on occasion if you’d like,” she said with a playful, but innocent wink. At her last show, she got a complimentary ticket for the VIP seating. Considering it was the Moulin Rouge, VIP seating might have a different connotation than that of the show he attended previously. But Ashton waved away that thought.

“So…” she said, unsure how to end the conversation. “I’ll see you when I see you?” she added slowly, chewing her words with uncertainty. She wasn’t sure when that would be, but it certainly was better than pushing a date at him that he would feel obligated to see her on.


If I can't hear the music, and the audience is gone,

I'll dance here on my own.


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Old 12-16-2010 at 04:50 AM
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Lucian Michaud

What was he tonight? An awestruck schoolboy? His loneliness was getting to him. That was for certain. Lucian dreaded the idea of trekking to his hotel room for the night, alone in the cold and wanted to prolong his time with Ashton as long as he could. She was the only person he really knew in Paris. Maybe that was why her “no” hurt a little. Or maybe the sheer vehemence of it. The only other person to have been so adamant about not wanting Lucian there was Natalie.

“Sorry. That came out weird.” She passed it off with a laugh. “I meant ‘no thank you’. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Lucian had the social grace to nod in acceptance, even though he was still a little shock-wounded by the rejection. He wasn’t asking for anything ridiculous; just to see to it that his son’s fiancée made it home safely and for a little bit of company before he had to face the rest of his night alone.

“Good night, Lucian,” she said in that stiff, formal tone Lucian was so used to hearing from everybody but her. I’ll see you later. Feel free to come to the shows whenever you want. I can get you a comp ticket on occasion if you’d like.”

She shot a playful wink his way and though Lucian half-smiled at her in return, it left him feeling more confused. The tone and gesture were at odds. Plain and simple. But, he supposed, nothing about his family was “plain and simple” these days. Not even his budding friendship with Ashton.

“So… I’ll see you when I see you?”

Lucian almost suggested she call him if she wanted a tour of the city. He knew it well, even if he didn’t know the people. But something stayed his tongue. His smile was part grimace underneath, but it was a smile nonetheless.

She’s not obligated to keep you company. She’ll be plenty busy with classes, without having to waste time keeping you entertained.

“Sounds about right,” he said. “Have a good night, Ashton.”

He watched her walk away down the snowy, cobbled street before pressing his gloved hands to his face as a shield from the cold and prying eyes. He now had to find a way to spend his otherwise dismal anniversary alone. Maybe he would ring Natalie, after all...
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Old 12-18-2010 at 02:52 AM
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OOC: For Reese and Rachel...GIRL POWER!!!

Reese Cordova

Reese had been dragged along on an outing with some of her fellow ballerinas to the Moulin Rouge, just for a night on the town. She certainly hadn't been expecting Rachel to be working there. It made sense as Reese hadn't seen her around the Opera House lately. She knew it had been Rachel's dream to be a performer and Reese was incredibly happy for her. She'd clapped enthusiatically for her friend when the curtain had come down, feeling the need to talk with Rachel again and congratulate her.

Reese had assured her other friends that she was going to wait and talk to Rachel and that they should go ahead and go home and she'd catch a cab back a little later. As everything was closing up for the night Reese decided it was best to wait out by the stage door. It was a rather chilly night and she pulled her black pea coat closer around her and the pulled the brim of her 'news boy' cap down further.

She was the only one in the back alley so when the sounds of footsteps came, she immediately looked up though the shadows obscured her face. It was a group of men coming towards her, making her incredibly terrified. Instinctively she moved up the steps to the stage door, banging on it in the vain hopes someone might hear her and come help.

"Been looking all over for you..." one growled menacingly. That didn't make any sense...she didn't know any of them! "I don't think anyone will be coming to help you Ms. Day," the man hissed. Rachel...they thought she was Rachel! Before she could think of anything else, one of them reached out and grabbed her, making her scream. He shoved her into a wall, her head hitting the brick building a sickening thud. Things got a bit dizzy as they all began to surround her, the man's grip tightening on her. The world around began to spin fast and faster until suddenly it all went black.


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Old 12-18-2010 at 06:22 PM
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Rachel Day

The men in her life would absolutely kill her, if they knew she was walking home alone tonight. Well, that's why Rachel Day would not be telling either Myron or Santiago. They worried way too much, anyways. She was her own woman; she could make her own choices. Well, really, this wasn't exactly her choice. The Rouge was closed up for the night; meaning, Myron went home, Madeleine went home, and just about everyone but the leftover performers went home. That was how it usually went. The doors would lock behind them, usually, and all the girls would walk home together. That was the usual, usually. Tonight was not just a usual night, though. Rachel Day had performed her best tonight, even if she was still ensemble, and it had gotten her much attention. This, for the other women performers, was not usual. So, when Rachel Day walked out of her dressing room door, hot coa coa and bags in hand, she was alone. No, it needs to be more dramatic than that: She was utterly alone.

Rachel supposed she could begin singing the great song, While Shivering in My Shoes, from the show King and I, but she was not afraid. No, this felt thrilling! Finally, she was alone. Finally, she was going to be taking independent steps home, alone, with no buddy system, or someone carefully watching out for her. Nope, it was just Rachel Day! Just, alone. Free at last. One, singular sensation! She barked out a laugh, purposely making it even a little more powerful, because- well, she just could! Beginning to walk down the hallways, she gave a twirl with the bag hanging over her head, a little hot chocolate spilling on her glove, and began breaking out into the infamous Broadway ballads that filled her mind-

"On my own! With no one else beside me!" She squealed out in a sing song way. The ballad from Les Miserable was suppose to be all depressing, but it had a lovely twist tonight! "All alone!" She belted out, walking toward the stage door, where she was totally planning on kicking open, and doing a ballet move or something! "I walk.." She haulted in her steps, and then continued to laugh, twisting up the lyrics to suit her current situation- "by myself til' morning!"

BANG.

Rachel Day's body jolted in a hault, like she had just hit a brick wall.

BANG, BANG.

Her round eyes stared at the stage door, that someone from the outside was pounding on intensely. Oh goodness, this was ruining her night. Was it some hobo just wanting a place to sleep? Was it an adoring fan wanting an autograph, and was greatly set on getting it? Well, if Rachel knew that were the case, she would very much be whipping open the door right now. But, she had no idea who was on the other side of the door, or what was going on. In fact, Rachel Day was just mindlessly staring at the door, but something in the pit of her stomach was clawing at her insides.

Rachel should turn around. She should call Myron and tell him there is something going on at his place of business. She should call Santiago- No. Absolutely not. Rachel Day was not going to call anyone in a breathless damsel in distress manner anymore. That was beginning to get old. Rachel did not need to be taken care of. She could very much take care of herself, and this peculiar situation. She would just turn on her fuzzy boots, and go out the other way-

"I don't think anyone will be coming to help you Ms. Day."

"Huh?!" Rachel noised, looking at the door. The voice outside the door was very much incorrect. The little actress was not even thinking about what the voice had said, but the fact that the- obvious man- was not even speaking to her?

It didn't click on the threatening thing he had just said, until a girl's voice screamed into the silence, filling up the hallway.

Something inside of Rachel Day snapped. Something that told her, someone was in trouble of there, and she needed to fix it. She needed to burst through that stage door, and fight. Something odd snapped, though. It was like, she had been trained for this, or this was routine for her. As if, she knew exactly what to do- when really, she was just as frightened as whoever was screaming. Goodness, she was not that intimidating! She had seen Santiago fight, and Rachel, in all honesty, would just run away from him, with just the looks that he gave people. She couldn't do that. She wasn't even that tall! Why couldn't she have just brought that gun Santiago gave her so long ago?! Oh, that's right ... because it was illegal.

Scared as all get out, but passionate about what was going on behind the door, Rachel Day whipped open the stage door, and her eyes widened in complete horror. Men were cornering up in the alleyway; big, scary looking men- and they were holding up...

"Reese?!" She breathed out, so she didn't have the attention just yet.

The streetlamp hit her features just about right, that under her cap, Rachel Day could make out her old friend from anywhere. Her heart pounded against her chest, watching her be choked up against the brick wall. Goodness, this made sense! Well, it didn't in normal eyes, but to those blood thirsty, whoever they were- it clicked. They thought, Reese was Rachel. They wanted Rachel, meaning ... They were just old friends, weren't they?

In a panic, Rachel's fight mode set in.

"Get off her!" She screamed out, taking the lid off her hot chocolate, and splashing it on the man's face that was holding Reese. His screaming howls made Rachel Day twitch slightly, and want him to shush up! She watched him let go of Reese, and hold his scorching face.

Rachel would have felt accomplished, if there wasn't two men.

"You stupid-" Rachel screeched as the other man yanked her by her hair, so her head went downward, and twisted up. Then he stopped. She looked at his eyes that went wide. He studied her for a moment, and only the other man's hot chocolate tantrum could be heard. "Wait, hold on a second..."

The lightbulb clicked that Rachel Day, was Rachel Day.

The lightbulb clicked for Rachel Day, just what to do next.

In one swoop, Rachel's over sized rehearsal back flew up, and knocked the man that was holding her, right in the face. He fell to the ground, and rightfully so. She had whipped it pretty hard at this noggin, and the bag contained some pretty heavy items. She had decided to bring home her coffee maker that was in her dressing room that night. Enough said.

That man was down...even see it in the cold night.

She was terrified, but so in the moment.

Knuckles connecting with her lip, and she could very much taste the blood. Very much, feel the skin rip open, and very much feel the screams wanting to come out. Rachel knew, that if that were to happen, her and Reese would just be over. The most frightening part about that hard punch to her mouth, was that she could not feel it. This sounded so odd- but it was like Rachel Day was seeing red or something.

She blinked a few times, and realized that he was back to attacking Reese again. Without a moment to loose, Rachel Day rushed up behind him, and kicked straight up into where the sun does not shine. The man let go of Reese, and held himself. His knees began to buckle down. Rachel gave it a good kick again, making sure that he would be going down, and staying down in time for her and Reese to get away. The man fell to the ground. But, that wasn't going to be enough.

Rachel's features twisted in disgust, wanting to gag. She knew she had to make sure he was out. Goodness, she didn't want to kill him! She didn't want to keep kicking him, because she could feel him against her foot, and hear the pain, and it was just so gross! "Oh, goodness.." She gagged, hearing the man's whimper, and shutting her eyes tight.

Rachel Day, as hard as she could, kicked the man's head into the cement.

The screaming stopped.

Rachel Day was panting, and half whimpering, but mostly panting. She had to stay strong. She could feel the blood trickle from her lips down her neck, but her friend Reese, was probably in worse shape. Not only had they choked her, but they had gotten ahold of her while battling it out with Rachel. Goodness knows what they could have done to who they thought, was herself.

"Reese!" She panted, spinning around. She felt dizzy, but she felt... good. "Reese, are you okay?!"

They had to leave.

Knocks to the head, could only leave a man down for so long.

When Rachel spun around, though, she met with a Reese lying sprawled out on the cold cement, eyes shut, and body lifeless. Her eyes burned, and she felt her entire body rip terrifying, as she slammed her knees down to Reese's side. "Reese!" She shouted out, beginning to shake her. Goodness, was she dead?! No, she couldn't be dead! Forcing herself to be calm, Rachel slammed her head against her friend's chest, and began moving up and down with... her heartbeat.

"Thank goodness!" She breathed out loud to everyone who was passed out around her, but it felt good to talk out loud, and feel like someone was there with her. Like, she wasn't alone on this. This was what Rachel Day had wanted when she left the dressing room. Just, to be alone. She needed to finish this alone. She couldn't give up now.

Her eyes looked all around her at the bodies, slapping her hands helplessly against her thighs. Rachel couldn't breathe. She needed to control her breathing, and control this situation. She was not use to this, though. Usually, in these cases, Santiago was with her. Santiago was with her, putting her in sleepers, and taking care of it himself. Now, it was just Rachel Day. What was she going to do?! Couldn't she have just sucked it up, and taken notes or something?

Closing her eyes, Rachel took a break, imagining that... Well, Santiago was with her, over her shoulder. What would he say?

"Chica," She murmured in a deep voice, channeling her inner Spaniard boyfriend. "You will not go to the police."

She couldn't help but huff out an aggravated noise. Goodness, she had heard that about a zillion times in her life....

"Alright, Rachel-" She breathed to herself, re-shutting her eyes. "Don't call the police.." Which meant, "Can't go to the hospital." She answered out loud.

Rachel looked at Reese, and realized, she had wanted to be alone in on this, but she wasn't alone anymore. She had Santiago Ortiz to help her.

In a rush, hearing the men's breathes get heavier, she acted quickly.

Thank goodness Reese was just as small as little Rachel Day. Out of mostly panic, she had managed to scoop her friend in her arms, and rush out of the alleyway, heading toward the apartment.

Rachel licked the blood on her swollen lip...

She looked down at her passed out and beaten up friend ...

She forced her burning eyes toward her destination ...

And all she could think about, was how she wished she had brought her gun.


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Old 12-28-2010 at 06:51 AM
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OOC: Rachel and Chianna! Two words: Awe. Some. BIC:

Chianna Mimieux


End of her shift. End of "merci, monsieur," and "oui, madame" and "I'm sorry, let me take that back for you." Thank God - or whatever imaginary being was up there in the clouds, glaring down at her, tsking at her. Whatever. If God was called "Father," he sure was a lousy parent. He was negligent. If there was a God, why was the world so bad? Chianna was going to hell. Yep. No denying it. She was. And that was okay. That was perfect, actually. She had always preferred the heat anyway. There was no place in "heaven" for someone like her.

She blew out a whisp of smoke as she pulled the cigarette from her mouth. The thin, white death-on-a-stick was steady between her index and middle fingers. Chianna watched in boredom as the small embers from the end of the cigarette faded. The smell of the smoke was warm, sickly and familiar. Leaning against the wall diagonally across from the stage door, Chianna looked up and down the alleyway. There was a soft lull in her mind. It was like people talking to each other in a library. It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was boring. She needed some action and she needed some fast. Perhaps she'd make a round at La Zone Foncee tonight.

Closing her eyes again and leaning her head back against the wall, she put the cigarette in her mouth and inhaled. The more she thought at La Zone, the more excited her mind became. It was a gradual change. It was like more people talking in a library. And more. And more. And more. Soon there was a crowd of people around a table. A crowd of drunk teenagers. They didn't care that the librarian was hushing them now. They just went on laughing and discussing random crazy sh-t. Chianna took the cigarette from her mouth again and blew out, a smile growing on her lips.


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Old 12-28-2010 at 07:13 AM
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Rachel Day

“So, what are you ladies up to tonight?!”

The dressing room door slammed.

Hmm. They must have not heard her?

Rachel Day shrugged it off, grabbing her rehearsal bag, and began making her way out. So much for a girl’s night out or something. Goodness, each night continued to get a little more disappointing. Each night, Rachel made it an errand to chit chat with the girlies in the dressing room, and try to get in on what their activities were for afterward. A lot of the time, they… Well, they didn’t hear her. That was it. They couldn’t hear her. Whatever- it was a good thing. Because, they were all out gabbing away someplace exotic, and she went home to get a sleep for another hard working day, that was a day that would get her closer to her stardom. That was probably why she was never invited out. Everyone knew how passionate and destined Rachel Day was to be a star, so they probably just did not want to get in her way. It was lonely at the top. Not that, Rachel was lonely. Goodness, she had everything she needed in her life. Santiago, the love of her life- Myron, the quirky father figure, and … and the Rouge, the step to fame and her full potential. So, all the performers here were probably intimidated. After all, Rachel Day was one of the hardest working; most devoted, and did get six standing ovations in a week. But, who was counting?

Tonight’s Broadway strut out the stage door ballad was, I’m Not That Girl. Not because, Rachel wanted to act depressed or anything, but because, she could pull off the sad songs quite well. She rolled her bottom lip, and ka-blam, the pool of tears came strolling down! Not only that, but Elphaba sings the song, and she is dressed in black, much like Rachel Day was today. It was Toddy St. James’ choice of apparel. He assured her that it was more womanly and adult-like. Not that, she cared much for what other people thought, but everyone around here looked older, and wore black a lot. Goodness, Rachel never wore black unless attending a funeral, but she supposed if that was the Rouge fashion, she must lead it. Oh, and also, the low notes in the ballad, really show of her alto range.

“Eyes meet, sudden silence,” Rachel Day sang to herself quite well, opening the stage door. “Sudden…heat.”

She stopped when she saw a flickering light in the night, and a woman against the building. Rachel tensed for a moment, not quite exactly having luck with the stage door alley at night, but she calmed down when she realized it was a Rouge worker. She didn’t really know her name, because, who has that time to know everyone’s’ names? But, Rachel had seen her around before. She was a server, and she was quite pretty too. Of course, everyone at the Moulin Rouge was pretty to some extent- it seemed like a law or something. She had never met or said one word to this woman before, but she saw her now, and was with her now- and she was smoking.

“Excuse me,” Rachel Day chirped, not leaving the alleyway and not continuing her ballad until justice was served. “But you aren’t supposed to smoke this close to the building.” She said politely, but matter of factly. Second hand smoke was disturbing. She could feel her vocal chords shriveling up. She squinted to get a look at the woman, but couldn’t really see her all that well in the alley.

“I believe it’s like, ten feet or something.”


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Old 12-28-2010 at 07:59 AM
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Chianna Mimieux

Chianna rested her head against the wall and blindly smoothed down her work shirt. It was a plain white button-up blouse tucked into her black slacks. Her hair was up in a messy bun that was just borderline professional. Once she hit La Zone, she'd pull it all down, let her hair fly, loosen a few buttons on her shirt... That was the best she could do coming straight from work. If she had more to work with, she'd change into something that showed a little more skin, even though it was kind of cold outside. It was worth it. Show a little more skin, reel in a few more customers. That's how it worked.

Her thoughts popped and dispersed at the sound of the door opening. Chianna opened her eyes and held her cigarette up, her elbow resting into her side as she looked to see who was coming. It was a brunette femme, one of the performers, non? Oui, it was one of the performers. Chianna recognized the face. The name didn't quite come to her memory yet, though. This was going to bother her, not remembering the woman's name. She took another drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke out with an "o" shape of her mouth.

“Excuse me,” Chianna's eyes shot up, one eyebrow raised. Is she talking to me? Eye contact. There was no one else in the alleyway. Yes, yes the woman was talking to her. What did she want? Chianna closed her mouth and let the remaining smoke come out of her nose. The smell tingled in her nose as she breathed out. “But you aren’t supposed to smoke this close to the building.” Chianna wasn't sure what to think. What was this woman? Performer and security guard? Chianna raised both eyebrows upward and inward in slight disbelief. Her English wasn't perfect, but she could understand what the American was saying. So what? What was the woman going to do? Report Chianna for smoking too close to a door? She looked over at the woman challengingly and didn't say anything yet. “I believe it’s like, ten feet or something.”

Chianna didn't say or do anything for a moment. What to do. There were so many things she could say, bark back at the American for telling her off. She could just ignore her. What could the American do, really? Nothing. But Chianna was in a good mood - thinking about La Zone often put her in that kind of mood. So she would humor the American.

She pushed herself from the wall and, maintaining eye contact, took three steps to the side, away from the door. With a curt nod of her head, she raised the cigarette to her lips with a little more showiness than she needed to and took another drag. The heat filled her mouth and her throat and she let it out in a long puff of smoke when she took the cigarette away. Chianna closed her eyes to take in the nicotine taste and then opened them again to look at the American. "'appy?" She said, heavily accented. English wasn't easy for her, but she could manage. She'd had enough English-speaking customers to know enough English to get by. This American... There was some fun to be had. Chianna could feel it. "You are one of zhose - quel est son nom? - 'goody two shoes?' Am I right?" Chianna took yet another drag of her cigarette and leaned against the wall, facing the American woman. Her English really left something to be desired, but the American would understand her enough, right?


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Old 12-28-2010 at 08:37 AM
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Rachel Day

It was the devil’s breath. It was, Shrek the musical. It was, a Tony award being crashed and shattered into tiny pieces against a hardwood floor. It was, cigarette smoke. Rachel Day would never take a puff for as long as she lived. She did not understand it, did not want to understand it, and certainly would not ever be understanding it in the near future that is her life. One puff, and her dreams would fall apart. One puff, and all her morals, would just burst into fiery flames! Santiago Ortiz, her boyfriend smoked, but not around her. They had never really discussed it. Rachel did not feel like it was her place to change that, without him wanting to change it for himself first, and she certainly did not feel like she wanted to change this woman at this current moment. It was not her place too. But, it was very much her place to prevent the smoker from harming others. Goodness, if she were going to do it, the least she could do, was save it until she got home, or was out of the way of the Rouge. For goodness sake, it was a performers sanctum! It was a theatre! It was life art, that needed bodies and vocal chords in tip top condition, to bring entertainment to the world! Rachel Day, would not fall victim to second hand smoke.

But, when the woman stared at her to the point- if Rachel would place a temperature on it, she would label as cold- she felt like she would soon fall a victim to possibly something else. Oh goodness, not again Rachel thought internally, still standing her ground, as she awaited for the next move. I do not have a cup of hot chocolate to protect me. Oh! But, I do have my pink cute gun!

A half cough caught in Rachel’s throat, when she took another sip of the cigarette. She narrowed her eyeballs at her. Well, what a rude thing to do. “Appy?” Appy? What kind of emotion was that? It rhymed with- Oh! An enthused flicker shot through Rachel’s eyes. She was French accented! Goodness, that was such a moment not to be proud off. She was around French people the entire day. It clicked in Rachel Day’s mind, that yes, she was French, because… It was Paris. It just seemed that most people of Paris, weren’t actually naturally French. And, appy? Absolutely not. In fact, she was all the more upset with her! The cigarette was not out, and Rachel felt like the woman was mocking her more than anything at this point. Yeesh, couldn’t people just admit they were wrong?

"You are one of zhose - quel est son nom?“ Rachel faced the woman straight on, as she leaned up against the wall. She furrowed her brows, not quite understanding what that meant. Alright, so maybe she was not understanding her English, so that was why she did not put out the cigarette yet? '”goody two shoes?” Alright, so maybe she could understand her language. Rachel’s body squirmed in place, clearing her throat. She did not particularly like that way of putting her lifestyle. She hated it! She was called that all the time. Goody two shoes? Oh, she was not all that good! Wait, no, she was not a bad girl…. But she was not goody two shoes! For instance, when she saw a 3D movie, she never recycled the glasses! Rachel Day always felt like she was stamped with that label. Which, was why the women of the Rouge, did not appreciate her.

“Am I right?”


“No!” Rachel Day blurted out defensively- a little too blurting out, and a little too defensively- but then she regained composure, clearing her throat yet again to play this off, smoothly. It was obviously this woman was those, sleek women of the Rouge, and Rachel Day more than belonged with them. She was not a goody two shoes. She just wasn’t.

“I just…” Rachel adjusted her bag, “Do not appreciate-“ Her throat stuck, not really knowing what to say. She was put on the spot! “I just don’t like-“ Rachel Day rolled her eyes, trying to speak this again. “You just shouldn’t-“

Squeaking out, literally, in aggirvation, the little diva shot at the woman, grabbed ahold of that demonic piece of smoking sewage, and threw it on the ground. Rachel gave it a nice stomp, twisting and turning it, until the light was no more. There! How was that for goody two shoes. Well, she mostly did it because, the police would completely catch them if they saw them, and she did not need a gruesome print in her record, and she needed to protect her vocal chords. The situation mad her highly uncomfortable. But, Rachel did not have to show that. Oh goodness, no. She could, play it off, to this woman’s game.

Rachel Day grinned, slowly twisting the cigarette with her heels now, and swaying her hips in accomplishment. Oh, this probably looked so not goody two shoes either!

“There, now I'm appy."

Outwardly, Rachel Day looked so good!

Inwardly, Rachel Day was praying she would not punch her in the face!

Then, Rachel cracked, clearing her throat weakly, and feeling incredibly guilty.

"I'm sorry..."


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