𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾,

❝  blanche, darling? do you hear that?  ❞    expressive as ever, sadie’s beautiful features are oh-so-twisted out of shape. she holds a finger up right in frank’s face so as to stop him from continuing to tell sasha his story about their latest african safari trip, no matter how interesting it may be, or how many wonderful compliments are to be lavished upon her throughout it (there are fifteen, to be exact).    ❝  i do believe that’s the sound of us needing re-e-e-e-fills!  ❞

❝  tell you what,  ❞    there’s a roguish grin at play as she sinks into the booth opposite veronica, two cans of cherry coke held precariously in one hand while the other moves to yank the little hat from her head, the apron ‘round her waist soon meeting a similar fate.    ❝  i think you’re the first person in this town to have not asked me what vincent price is like to work with.  ❞    she says no more than that, but it’s clear that she’s grateful, sliding one of the cans over towards veronica.

*          ‘ i  can  tell  just  by  sniffing  the  air  whether  or  not  you’re  lying, ’     @chopinsque

it’s  being  taken  aback  for  an  apparent  half  a  second  and  diane  battling  it  out  with  herself  when  she  hastily  leans  in  with  a  taste  of  genuine  intrigue  for  the  other  500000000  nanoseconds  of  said  confusing  second  (and  yes,  don’t  worry,  according  to  google  that  is  in  fact  the  translation  between  a  half  a  second  to  the  nano  sort.  mad,  innit?)  

                   ‘ are  you  saying  i  stink? ’     diane  doesn’t  like  to  be  caught  out.  she’s  carrying  lizzy’s  bank  card  and  flailing  in  an  attempt  to  act  as  the  sister  in  question  to  pay  for  a  coffee  for  herself.  (realistic  clones  get  bank  accounts  and  their  credit  scores  don’t  really  matter  if  you  don’t  look  at  their  statements).  

                    resigned,  though  animated  still,  diane  concedes  all  like,     ‘ fine,  it’s  diane.  you  caught  me.  you  could  chase  fugitives  with  an  eye  that  good. ’     and  puts  her  hands  up  in  play  of  that  faux  truth  telling  act.     ‘  liz  said  i  could  borrow  her  card  while  i  was  waiting  for  my  new  one  to  come  in.  i’m  borrowing  her  identity.  it  was  a  nasty  trick-  now,  can  i  have  my  drink?  and  when  in  hell  is  your  shift  finished  so  you  can  spend  the  day  with  me? ’

❝  don’t get your knickers in a right twist, worms,  ❞    she smirks, nose twitching as she reaches for the tower of paper cups right by the cash register, pulling the top two with her as she moves to the coffee machine.  whether it’s something akin to a real superpower that she has (what would her superhero name be?  the nose?) or just too many years spent around diane and her twin is up for discussion and for debate, whichever one happens to catch your fancy.  she’ll stick to making overpriced latte art and gently terrorising her nearest and dearest, thank you very much.    ❝  what are the chances, i was just about to clock out.  said i’d catch y’out in a lie before i did, though.  ❞    the coffee machine whirs into life, noisy and clunking.    ❝  pick a pastry and i’ll throw it in for free, how’s that?  ❞

@chopinsque.                              ‘   we’ll    go    dancing    tomorrow    night.   ’

‘    that    sounds    wonderful.   ’          eyes    light    up    at    the    mention    of    a    girl’s    night    with    jordan,      a    night    away    from    parties    &    her    parent’s    expectations.          ‘   i    say    we    make    a    whole    day    of    it!      dress    shopping,      an    appointment    at    the    salon;      it’ll    be    fun!   ’

❝  doesn’t it just.  ❞    not posed as a question, nor as a response; truth be told, there was an element of selfishness involved in miss baker’s suggestion, as there so often is.    ❝  it’s been too long since we’ve had fun together, don’t you think?  ❞

❝  one of those nuisances is going to escape someday,  ❞    she huffs out a jagged breath, energy very clearly depleted as she leans the entirety of her weight against the door, blocking both entrance and exit from the kitchen into the courtyard.    ❝  wind up wedged behind a cistern or somethin’, and then where’ll i be?  ❞    leftover grain has taken root in the chunky knitwear wrapped loosely ‘round her frame, but all it takes is a simple shake for them to dislodge themselves.    just another job for her to do, she thinks wryly, watching as they fall instead to the kitchen tiles.  no matter, it’s far from a priority for her right now; recovering from those little terrors outside is the first order of business.  sensible loafers make hardly any noise as she potters around the table, heading straight for the cooker and bringing the kettle with her as she goes, putting water on to boil.  (nothing like a good brew to recover from the daily ordeal.)

@chopinsque,  multimuse    ––    you are here!

@fauxcette,  k/aren w/heeler    ––    hiatus

@malerituals,  w/endy c/arr

@shivawne,  s/hiv r/oy    ––    low activity

@patholoqical,  f/reddie l/ounds

@plasticked,  l/aura p/almer

@miserysmiss,  e/sme squalor    ––    low activity

@wizengamod,  a/melia b/ones    ––    hiatus

@on441,  c/atherine m/artin

@suaimhnease,  charlotte skeffington (oc)

@adelaing,  adelaide laing (oc)    ––    low activity

❝  it’s a family-run business, mr. wingfield?  ❞    curiosity abound, as always.  her husband would roll his eyes and call it plain old nosiness, and he’d be right to do so.  you can dress it up however you like, in whatever way pleases you, but at the end of the day, she just likes knowing things about people, the ins and outs of them.  it’s very rarely for any sort of malicious reason; it’s just the way she’s always been, having grown from a tot who asked too many questions to a young girl with a thirst for knowledge.  no time for the scholarly stuff, now, or the fancy subjects that you have to go off to college to study  –  oh no, mamie is far more intrigued by the practical and the mundane.  and maybe the morbid, too, given the interest she seems to be showing in the funeral home.