SPOTTED: ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ in new york city! heard the ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ year old belongs to ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ as a ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐. word on the streets is that they can be ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ & ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, but they can also be ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ & ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐.
๐๐๐๐๐๐.
name. alixandra bella harrigan
nicknames. alix
age. 34
birthday. june 14th
zodiac sign. gemini
birth place. malibu, california
father. conrad harrigan
mother. rosalie harrigan
siblings. eleanor harrigan
occupation. con artist for the reserve
affiliation. the reserve
๐๐๐๐.
Born and raised in Malibu, the daughter of a calculating media manipulator and a tennis champion.
Her childhood was a whirlwind of lies crafted by her mother, which was how she adopted her knack for lying and scheming. She fully believes the world works this way - that everyone lies for their own advantage and best interest.
Master manipulator, she gets what she wants and she has fun doing it.
Ran small-time scams all her life for fun, and somehow made a career of it.
As a con artist within the reserve, Alix uses charm, deception, and social engineering to secure information, assets, and leverage for the gang.
She can rig the casino ecosystem just as easily as they rig the bets. From the big fish to the smallest, sheโs got every name and net worth memorized and who should be sat at what table and who can access the higher stakes.
She navigates high-society circles as the public face of the casino while quietly running cons, creating false identities (can make anyone disappear or appear somewhere they never were), neutralizing threats, and manipulating rivals.
Every move she makes protects the empireโs interests and only ensures the house always pays the Harriganโs.
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐.
Loves bubblegum and candy. Her favourites are cherry lollipops, pink starburst and all sour patch kids.
Cannot fight for shit - in fight or flight, her go to is flight. Unless it's a threat to her sisters then she's got a taser and sheโs not afraid to use it.
Fully believes in astrology - she'll ask your sign and tell you the planets movements before she asks your name.
Cries every time it snows. She DOESN'T LIKE IT. She misses palm trees and the beach.
Makes everyone share their location with her on Find My Friends - she's collecting them and calls them her little sims.
Only calls people on FaceTime. Soz.
Never got her drivers license so she ubers, makes family drive her or walks everywhere (its hell for her in the cold). She told Pierre to get her a driver but she keeps losing Dennis and his suburban (her own fault). She'll just get creative though - party bus, limo ride, whatever appears in front of her.
Talks really fast, she's going a mile a minute.
Her go to karaoke song is Britney Spears - Circus and Gwen Stefani - Rich Girl.
Makes a special little shared ritual with every person in her family. (ex. Alfie has the secret handshake). No two people have the same one. It's sentimental for her.
Has a ragdoll cat called Goldie.
In stark contrast to her sister, Alix is messy, though she claims its an organized mess because she knows where everything is.
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Rachel had a few friends who had wanted to go to the very trendy performing space for awhile now. It sounded like a fun night and she was always up for an excuse of a random night out that was a little bit calmer. She could say so far it had been a good time and the band sounded great. She stepped away from her friends to go grab another drink at the bar, but as she walked over she noticed a familiar face. Rachel felt like if she stared for too much longer it would be weird, so she just decided to approach. Relieved that her brain helped supply how she knew her right at the moment she was in front of her. "Hi! Sorry to bother you, but I just totally recognized you and realized...are you friends with Cesar?"
Famous words of the Rosalie Harrigan looped through her mind the moment the woman - far too sweet, if Alix were asked - appeared in front of her. One that prompted three possibilities to present themselves to Alix concerning this individual she did not recognize: law enforcement, someone unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with an Alix and Cesar special con, or someone hoping the name drop would be enough to charm their way into complimentary cocktails, desserts, or a conveniently forgotten bill. Any and all were plausible.
A dazzling Hollywood smile unfurled across her features on instinct, her hands releasing their grip on the neck of the champagne bottle arranged within its chiller to find purchase upon the marble bar counter. "No bother at all but..." feigned confusion surfaced within her expression through the slight pout of pink glossed lips, a mild furrow of her manicured brows, "... Cesar.... Cesar who exactly?" Flores. Tall, dark and handsome. She knew precisely which Cesar and yet, the act must play on until confirmation was obtained of the woman's identity.
It's a peculiar thing; standing in a penthouse her sister called home, helping Alix out with her array of matcha lattes, all while packing up her things to move into her own lush townhouse in New York. Amelia Dreyer of six months ago wouldn't recognize it at all. But enough time has passed, and unlike before, she doesn't meet Alix's warmth with the usual frost and seriousness. Instead, she puts the drinks down on the coffee table, nodding along at her story. "Let's be honest. The best things start out on the West Coast." Like Amelia herself, born and raised in the beaches of San Diego.
"So for that reason alone... Okay, yeah. I'll catch a class with you sometime." This time, no arm twisting or guilt tripping. She's a pliant accomplice as she glances at the tray. Four drinks. "Any chance one's up for grabs?" That's the thing with living with Lottie and the Harrigan girls, she's picked up on a few of their habits, like it or not. "I'm just picking up the last of my things. We moved into our place last week." But it isn't just her sister she's bonded with overtime. Offering Alix as warm a smile as her serious expression can muster, she nods; "Thanks for letting me crash."
The response earned a brighter smile on Alix's part, ocean hues lit with pure joy. "I so agree." The beaches and sunshine of California remained unparalleled. Hamptons shamptons, if you were to ask Alix. The east coast ceased to equate with anything remotely near the views of the west. The I heart New York daily affirmations Alix performed in the mirror did nothing to grow a personal penchant for the rats, snow, traffic, garbage, the Hudson - any of it.
The urge to ask if Amelia was serious nearly slipped out before she caught it. "How's Friday morning?" The tote bag was shrugged free from her shoulders, allowing it to fall onto one of the kitchen island stools before glancing back over her shoulder. "One's yours already. Unless you want two?" One of the four was always allocated for Amelia. "There's an extra in the chance anyone was over or someone wanted to throw it in the fridge for later. Or, hey, you want to take it with you for Selin?" After the text exposure she'd finally viewed yesterday morning, Alix had been grappling with an approach to soothe the burn. "Please. You don't have to say thank you." A hand rose to wave in the air between them, dismissing the thanks. "I liked having you here." A nonchalant shrug followed as neared Amelia, working to extract one of the lattes from the tray. "Have you talked to her, by the way? Selin?"
โ๐ฒโ๐ค๐ง๐จ๐ฐ, ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐๐๐งโ๐ญ ๐๐ฌ๐ค ๐ฆ๐ that unless you want a real drawn-out, detailed answer,โ romy warned, the tiniest self-aware smirk tugging at her lips. โi was raised by doomsday preppers.โ she had, in a way, been raised in a bunker. at the mention of francis, her eyes instinctively swept the crowd. โhe got high and wandered off, so i got higher,โ she explained matter-of-factly. โainโt seen him in a bit, but i reckon if charlie takes him parasailing, he might drown.โ tattooed fingers tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. โoh, uh. i dunno. francisโs friend told me weddings are supposed to be about the bride. yโknow, all that princess fairytale shit. but iโve never really been into any of that.โ her gaze drifted briefly to the white fabric of her own dress. โi think francis just wants me to have a special day. like, he wants me to be happy.โ he also knew how little she liked being watched, much less made the center of a room. โwhat would you do?โ she asked, looking back to alix. โlike, if you had a wedding, what would it be like?โ
"I know, that's why I'm crashing with you if the zombie apocalypse ever actually happens. Is there a Wii on your list?" For Just Dance purposes, obviously. What else was anyone supposed to do while awaiting the destruction of the world in an underground bunker? "Didn't offer me any is crazy." Of whatever Romy had taken, she meant. A playful tease and nothing more that preceded another sip of champagne. As Romy spoke, Alix's head canted ever so slightly to one side, listening carefully to what was said, and to everything tucked neatly between the lines.
"Me? I want a cannon and I wanna launch people into the pacific ocean." Specifically because this hypothetical wedding would solely take place with the west coast as a backdrop. Her hand traced the imaginary trajectory through the air before ending somewhere over the water. "And it's a contest, obviously. Ranked on best landing. Bonus points if a dolphin appears." A production, if she had a say. "Not exactly a fairytale," her shoulders lifted in an absent shrug, "but I think it'd be way more entertaining. So, you can have whatever you want." A pause as a grin tugged at the corners of her lips. "You want Area 51?"
@alixharrigan | Alix and Amelia, The Penthouse days after the White Party
"Morning." Amelia hums from her spot in the entryway, whilst sorting through a few tote bags. Catching the striking color of blonde, it's none other than Alix, which prompts a small smile. One of the few to try and befriend her since her start at The Reserve, and as of recently, her temporary roommate (if you could call it that in a Penthouse this size) while she looked for a place. "I'm just picking up the last of my things." As generous as her new sister has been in letting her stay, Amelia isn't the penthouse type (as proven by her non-organic milk in the fridge, and making use of their untouched laundry room). "You just heading out, or coming home?" Who's she to judge? Nothing wrong with fun either way. Especially these days.
A cheery response of, "morning!" rang out across the penthouse as she made her way inside. The oversized pink Chanel tote had begun its familiar descent from her shoulder, forcing her to hitch it back into place while simultaneously extending a precariously balanced tray of iced matcha lattes toward Amelia in a wordless plea for assistance. "Coming home - from this sunrise rooftop Pilates class in the Village, it was incredible. The instructors from California," obviously, New York would never be so vein. "And she - " a pause interrupted the thought as she rescued the tote from sliding clean off her shoulder.
"Right. So, she's from California, but she studied in Bali or something. Whatever." A dismissive flick of her wrist accompanied the end of the sentence, entirely at odds with the fact she'd been hanging onto every word the woman had said. "You should come with me sometime." The smile that lingered across her face was all the proof anyone needed that Alix had yet to surrender to Amelia's long-standing campaign against anything athletic. Tennis, she'd reluctantly accepted as a lost cause. But somewhere in the endless catalogue of boutique fitness classes New York insisted on reinventing every six months, there had to be one they could claim as common ground.
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" do you --- no it's fine. they just seem a bit strict. " if strict could be the word , he swore he had seem a couple of automatic weapons and for whatever reason since his incident he was feeling a bit nervous. he would never express it to anyone explicitly , maybe he should , but he didn't deem it necessary. his parents were never one on expressing their feelings or allowing their children to so that habit carried onto adulthood. this is also the first time harry had ever been hurt in such a way , doctors were almost concerned his wrist broken but he was healing nicely.
" i don't hate it , " he said as if that was his confirmation that he liked it though alix would never truly know. " it doesn't bother you , like you want to just , " he motioned with his other hand as if he were picking up the strap on his own shoulder. " seventy seems like a exaggeration , " he looked at her. " you have seventy white dresses ? "
"Why?" The teasing slipped away almost as quickly as it'd appeared, genuine concern softening her expression as she searched Harry's face. "Did someone say something to you?" She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "And don't you dare lie to me." The seriousness lasted all of a second, overridden by a laugh that threatened to spill over at whatever expression he'd pulled with picking up his own faux strap. Her head gave a small shake once, lips pressing together to contain it. "I like it." One shoulder lifted in an exaggerated shrug as she gestured toward him. "No, I brought like, five, but I kept changing over and over, back and forth, blah blah, so in total it was probably seventy changes of the same five outfits." A pause. "But I like your outfit."
At the confirmation that the man in question was Pantheon's target du jour, he breathed out a sigh of relief, eyes setting on the man as she offered a challenge within a challenge, albeit unbeknownst to Alix. "I'm all-in on the cherry bomb. Both parts of the name account for two favorite things of any hot-blooded politican," he whispered back to her with a smirk before immediately turning his attention to the man of the hour, lips curling from smirk to bright smile. "And, speaking of hot-blooded politicians...Councilman Duarte. Wonderful to see you tonight."
Alessandro greeted the man with a handshake, embodying the showman bravado he'd donned numerous times over, slipping easily into it due to both alcohol and adrenaline. "My friend โ Alix Harrigan, of the Malibu Harrigans โ and I have quite the patriotic bet for you tonight, though you'll have to promise not to report us to the Gaming Commission if you want the reward." His practiced laugh rang out as he nodded to the blonde to reveal their options. "What'll it be, Councilman? Purple for the mountains' majesties, blue for the shining seas, or red for the beating hearts that keep this country strong?" Turning slightly to Alix, he flashed a private, knowing smirk. Even with his secrets and, by extension, his whole life on the line โ that wouldn't stop him from rigging their little bet in his favor.
The wager was sealed with nothing more than the slightest wink before Alix's attention drifted toward the unfortunate target in question. A quiet tsk clicked against the roof of her mouth, serving as little more than a distraction from the laugh threatening to escape. Barely contained, it disappeared beneath the radiant smile that settled across her features instead. As though someone had snapped a clapperboard and yelled action directed at her, the mask overrode her demeanor fully like a second skin. "Councilman, it's a pleasure." Her favoured hand extended in greeting, one that passed the point of pleasantries when her other hand met the politicians arm in a subtle second touch point. Fleeting, however, when her attention turned to follow Sandro's lead, producing the three lollipops in question from the mini Chanel sea shell purse slung over her shoulder. The options displayed with a purposeful positioning of blue at the top.
Her gaze lingered on the display before lifting to meet the senator's, only to wander past him entirely - out toward the Atlantic, where the waves rolled in over themselves. Then she returned to the target. The smile she'd worn from the beginning hadn't shifted a mere fraction. "He's so dramatic," she confided with quiet amusement, as though Sandro wasn't standing right beside them. "Always has been. He has such a way with words..." Her eyes flickered briefly toward the candy before finding the senator's once more. "Love the suit jacket, Councilman. White truly brings out the blues of your eyes."
" unibrow ? " he almost exclaimed putting his hand up to cover his eyebrows before he composed himself. " remind me to take you off the christmas list , you are not getting shit from me. " though even if she received coal , alfie was almost convinced she'd try to use it as eyeliner. " hamster ? " he scoffed as he watched how she swayed slightly , eyes landing on the champagne flute. " getting drunk at this thing is a choice , which one do you think will murder you first ? the blonde one or the scary one with the eyes ? "
Rather than muster even the slightest pretense of indignation, Alix's current relationship with champagne rendered the notion entirely impossible. Therefore, the reminder to leave her off the Christmas list earned nothing more than a bright laugh. The reality would remain that she held the ability to snatch his wallet and take it shopping though she felt no need to express it. "Hamster." Doubling down on the accusation, one hand rose a slender pink manicured index finger to aim directly towards his face. "Oh, come on, Alfie, it's the Fourth." The words tumbled free punctuated with a dramatic whine. "Have you looked around? Even The Don's over there pouring drinks like it's Palm Tree Festival." In reality, it was the other brother that had assumed that position, but the specifications had no place in her world at the moment. "You want one?"
*setting: terrace bar @ villa aurelia, an hour after pantheon's message bc he's dumb
*closed to: @alixharrigan
He and Alix were two creatures of luxury comforts with a shared penchant for forward momentum, and so, the champagne and liquor flowed freely on their tongues well into the sea-salt-soaked evening, dulling his senses to the point of confusing comfort for safety. The buzzing of his phone remained ignored for the better part of an hour, retrieving the device only to take a photo of them swirling lollipops into their champagne flutes. Seeing the message, his easy, camera-ready grin contorted into a mask of tipsy confusion, eyes blinking to stop words from shrinking and enlarging of their own accord even while their meanings remained wholly unchanged.
Too drunk to form a plan and too desperate to remain unmoving, he slung an arm around the blonde's shoulder, letting frenzied confidence lead the way. "Dolcezza, let's play a little game. I spy with my little eye...the most unlikely person we could get to mix candy into his drink." He gestures in the direction of the man he's fairly confident is the councilman. "Come on, let's see if we can't convince him otherwise."
The last remnants of the cherry lollipop met their end between her teeth before the stick left her glossed lips and was wrapped in a napkin for trash. Intoxication notwithstanding, her eyes followed Sandro's gesture across the terrace and scrutinizing the man in question akin to a puzzle of scattered pieces she was fitting together within her mind. Councilman Duarte was an instant recognition - one she'd read up on plenty of times prior. She could read him from across the terrace by the way he stood, the particular self-importance of a man who believed he'd be President one day.
"You're a genius - he's so boring. I read in US Weekly that his idea of a fun Friday night is sailing and grilling. Or," a brief, solemn pause, "curling up with a good book." The contortion of disgust that threatened to surface within her features was refrained. She straightened slightly within the easily bracket of Sandro's arm slung over her lithe shoulders, heels falling into step beside him. "I've got blue raspberry, cherry bomb, and grape flavour left." A sideways glance up at him, ocean eyes bright with mischief. "Wanna make a bet which he'll go for?" The smile that broke across her face as they approached the Councilman was nothing short of dazzling, awaiting Sandro's lead though not before a quick whispered, "my money's on blue raspberry."
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Between the sun, the champagne and the joint he had just smoked with someone near the water, Cesar was feeling great. Finally at ease and he had found a good hiding spot for the treasures he had collected tonight. He just hoped he wasn't too drunk to retrieve them later. His smile was easy when he spotted Alix in the middle of the crowded boardwalk. "My only critique is that there aren't any jet skis. I was really hoping to jetski at this thing." He laughed as he thought about it, glancing at the water one more time before holding out his arm for her. "You want to go get into some fun? I think some of these people are taking themselves too seriously." He tipped his sunglasses down his nose and looked her over. "Very sexy, Miss Harrigan. Let's get drunk."
"You sound just like Charlie." If she had a dollar for every time someone said jet ski to her this year, she'd have enough to fund a live in sort of psycho therapist for Francis' grieving era. Or maybe she could just send him off to space and by the time he returned he'd be back with better blond hair. "Find him he's probably got, like, 3." One, for the record, and he treated it like a minor religious artifact that no one else was permitted to touch, but that wasn't her problem. "Stop, my boyfriend's gonna get all jealous." A playful jest and nothing more as she twirled a stray piece of blonde hair from the Pam Anderson inspired hairstyle. "Ooooh," pink glossed lips narrowed into an O shape at the mention of getting drunk as her champagne flute lifted in his direction. "You're late. I've already gotten there. We're playing catch up for you." Without warning, her arm hooked into place on Cesar's and was already redirecting them both toward the bar. "Where have you been all night, anyway?"
" do you think this is violating dress code ? " he looked down at his wrist splint. " i tried to find one that matched the occasion but everything was black or this weird grey. " however , he knew if anyone could find a great matching accessory it would be alix. he paused looking at the woman's dress , " is that intentional the way your dress , " he motioned on his own shoulder.
"Whether it is or isn't, who cares?" He certainly shouldn't. "Just wrap a handkerchief around it if it's bothering you." Delivered in breezy nonchalance for she had already moved past the concern entirely. An injury outranked whatever the hosts thought they were owed in terms of deference, and they could think whatever they liked about that. The Mob holding a chokehold on this city did little to quite frankly, zero work, on changing Alix's mind on that front.
The pivot to her dress pulled her brows upward before the shimmy followed, one shoulder rolling up and back down. "Yeah! Do you not like it? I thought it was cute." The way the lace contrasted with the silk of the dress. "Actually, don't. Don't tell me if you don't like it." A dramatic raise of her palm between them to stop him prior to his habit of saying precisely what was on his mind. "I have no change of clothes and I already changed seventy times." She actually did, but that would require her returning to the villa they'd rented for the week.
Parked at the expansive bar for the better part of fifteen minutes, he'd been ordering drinks for anyone close enough to engage in his antics. A little inebriated sure, but not belligerently so and Dominic had no intention of crossing the line into that realm during a crucial event for his sister. He knew how to pace a buzz long enough to make it last; to make it count. "If you see Celestina walking this way, can you warn me?" His jaw angles towards the nearest partygoer to his left. "I need to like, jump into the ocean or something before she figures out I showed up to this." Only a half-joke.
Dom and Don had a certain phonetic proximity once they hit her ear, largely due to the fact that on the scale of inebriation, she currently landed somewhere in the realm of Lindsay Lohanโs Mykonos era. So, sue her that for the last fifteen minutes, and for the remainder of the evening, she would be operating under the conviction that the Don of the fucking mafia was dishing drinks out like he had the prime VIP booth at Amber Lounge during Monaco's coveted F1 weekend. Therefore, the mention of Celestina produced nothing more than a laugh escaping into the white party air. Why wouldnโt his girlfriend be fully aware of his attendance?
"Roger that." A two fingered salute from her temple accompanied the words as the entirety of her response on the matter. She wouldnโt be on the lookout, not even if she wanted to because she couldnโt see that far at present. Truthfully, she was surprised Celestina wasnโt glued to his side like every other time sheโd seen the two. On the bright side, Alix could slot that as another thing that never would garner her concern nor care. What did seize the full and immediate attention of her senses was her drinks of choice, shots of Clase Azul, hitting the bar top. "You have to do a toast." The statement left her entirely serious, as her index and thumb reached forward for the crystal shot glass.
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โ๐ข๐ญโ๐ฌ ๐ง๐จ๐ญ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ญ ๐ขโ๐ฆ ๐ฌ๐๐ฒ๐ข๐งโ this ainโt cool and all,โ romy was mid-ramble, a few drinks deep and pretty high, telling alix what sheโd rather be doing while in the hamptons. โbut they got a state park with actual cold war bunkers around here. like, imagine how cool that would be.โ she lifted a brow, glancing over at the woman she considered a softer, more nurturing version of her own sister. naturally, romy would rather be exploring wilderness and old war bunkers than attending a luxury hotel opening. though she had been enjoying the open bar situation. โdid you come here with charlie?โ she asked, pivoting suddenly, drinking alix in with big hazel eyes. she looked, as always, devastatingly beautiful. โyou look really pretty. i like your dress. how the one sleeve, itโs, like,โ she motioned, โit looks like itโs fallinโ off your shoulder. thatโs neat.โ
"If you built a bunker, what would you put in it?" Apparently that was where her mind had wandered to while the champagne flute absently twisted in her grasp, her attention shifting over each waiter walking by for a glimpse of truffle pasta. Would it sue the billionaires to provide it? "Yeah." She answered, her gaze now turning to meet Romy's with a smile breaching her features. "Where's your fiancรฉe? Think Charlie's gonna take him parasailing?" A joke, on all accounts. It's the motion towards her dress that prompted Alix to do a silly shimmy of her shoulders in response. "Thanks! Thought it was fun. You can have it, if you want." A genuine offer, similar to one she'd bestow upon her own sister. "I like your dress, too. Really pretty. Speaking of white dresses, have you thought of how your weddings gonna go?" A pause. "You know, that I know, that you don't have to do a wedding. But Francis did ask me for planning advice, so that actually makes me your wedding planner. Or not wedding. Whatever you wanna call it."
" i'm surprised the scary twins , " that's what he was calling celestina and camila , " didn't paint everything white. they sort of have this mad queen vibe going on and it's totally fucking with me. " he paused leaning closer to alix in a loud whisper after taking a bite out a random strawberry he found. " i could've sworn the del castillo one wanted to laser my head off with her eyes. i could just feel it. " and he knew if it were possibly she would've unlocked that ability long ago -- evil queen and homelander all in one. he looked over to alix , " that thing , " he pointed at her purse , or what she called a purse. " is like a magician's hat -- what'd you bring ? "
Grasped between two fingers, void of any chopsticks or utensils in sight, another sushi roll - California, to be exact, for obvious reasons she favoured it - was lifted to her lips. Followed by another, and another - similar to a mini conveyer belt up all whilst Francis spoke. The only reaction came with her blue eyes rolling north to her peripheral to shoot him a funny sort of look when he pointed at her white Chanel seashell purse. "It's a limited edition. You want a what's in my bag edit? I'll give it to you." Was mumbled over the next sushi roll she was chewing through. Blame her lack of social manners at the moment on the fact it was Francis, but also the champagne she was plowing through as though it were provided specifically for her.
"For the record, I don't think there's anything wrong with you. I don't even think they're looking at you. That's just their faces. Never seen either of them crack a smile that's wider than the editorial smiles. You know those ones?" Never full teeth, she meant. The hand grasping her champagne flute gestured vaguely to her own countenance just before her gaze landed upon it and lifted it to her lips for a sip. "Hold this." The flute was passed forward, or rather shoved into his possession as she brushed her fingers off on a nearby napkin and then set her tiny sea shell purse onto the table, undid the clasp and revealed the contents. "Lip gloss, lollipops, starburst candies, mints," a pause, as she opened the tiny pink container and launched one (gently) at Francis' face, "ID, compact, perfume, mini taser. The essentials."
