Kenia was just trying to get her groceries for the week, but she always seemed to hit a snag at the store. Whether they didn’t have the ingredient she needed, or there was someone walking devastatingly slow and taking up the entire aisle, she always left the store annoyed. Right now, she was in the pasta aisle, repeatedly tossing a package of rice up at the top shelf, trying to knock down a box of the giant shells she couldn’t reach. “Mother... fucking...” She whispered as she threw the rice up again. “UGH!” She groaned in frustration. 

            caffeine. that’s what luana was in need of after that tiring day of meetings and prepping for court. so she made her way to her favorite coffee shop to order her usual-- black, no cream. not being able to resist the look of a red velvet cake, she bought it too, thanking the barista and wishing them a good rest of the day. as she turned around, cup in one hand, cake in the other, she slightly bumped into a figure that had been standing behind her-- shit, were they wearing white??

            “ oh!! i’m so so sorry. ” cursing under her breath, she quickly scanned the other person’s state, visibly sighing in relief after confirming that she didn’t drop anything on them. looking up to meet the other’s gaze, she knew she’d blushed in embarrassment. “ shirt’s good as new-- can i buy your drink to make up for the scare? ”

Starting the weekend with a pair of bloody knees was not something Demi anticipated or wanted, for that matter. The woman had taken a hard tumble after colliding with someone outside on the pavement. The other person in question flew the scene without a trace, mumbling some incoherent profanities under their breath. Demi couldn’t exactly blame them, especially as she does the same thing, hoisting herself from off the ground and into the nearest store. 

The sidewalk had ripped right through her stockings, cutting the delicate skin of her knees. With her luck, she ends up in a bar, and she quickly grabs a couple of napkins that were stacked on the counter near the front. Once acquired, she plops down onto a barstool and begins dabbing at her bloodied knees, blowing a strand of perfectly styled hair from her make-up clad face. She was the kind of woman too pretty for situations like this and much too put together. Her injuries and sudden disheveled nature almost seem unnatural from the outside looking in. “These stockings are probably more expensive than that person’s electric bill,” Demi mutters, both to herself and to the onlooker beside her. A quiet sigh sounds from her, continuing to aid her stinging knees. Brown eyes avert towards the person, “Quite a way to start off the new decade. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.” She says, crumbling the pile of napkins and grabbing a few new ones. “Do you think they have a first-aid kit in this place or what?”