Nancy. Was. Bored. She had dropped into one or seven proms before, but this one had to be the single most boring one she had been to. There had been a really great after party in, like, 1985 or something, but this one really did not compare. Maybe it was because there was less carnage this time around. Yes, that was definitely it. Nancy was quite desperate to sink her teeth into something fun.
There the miniature terror sat on the back of one of the sofas, chin in her hands and a well practised pout on her lips. Maybe the urge to absolutely tear someone apart would go away if someone gave her the right kind of attention. As someone sat on the sofa at her feet, the positively nuclear looking punch (undrunk) in her hand happened to tip over, squarely onto their lap. “Oops,” Nancy chirped, still pouting away like it was the worst thing to ever happen to her.
