#capitaineconor

L’Ortolan, without question. Anyone tells you it’s not mine, do let me know. I’ll be glad to tell ‘em the story of how I earned it. With my own work. 

My own talent. 

Me.

Then again, if I tell you, I have to kill you. So maybe trust me. 

Your funeral. 

🖼- Framed photos (also asked by @luciennepicou!)

Photos are a relatively new form of decor in Vivienne’s home, but so far she’s amassed an impressive mix of photos and sketches from her various houseguests, plus just a few snaps from one of her parties, when a rather  drunken photographer was someone’s plus one.

Toys or stuffed animals, huh?

She legitimately doesn’t have any toys, but not in a sad way. Her toys are people.

Wait that came out wrong. I mean that people have always been far more interesting to her than objects. She lived in an area that was lively enough that if she went outside there was always someone to talk to or watch or listen to regardless of the hour. Her neighborhood was always alive. Someone was always awake. Maybe even playing some music too.

“Large? Reasonably straight? I’m not very good at this, I’m afraid. Have an example.”

“There are quite a few reasons why I wear high heels so often. They make my legs look long and luscious, they’re always in style....and they can kill a pesky bug with ease. Does that answer your question?”

“I run a comedy nightclub at which I am also the headliner. I spend my nights performing and spend my days preparing to perform. Plus, I like to party. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t get much sleep at all!” 

“I am truly in love with myself. Does that count?” 

“I haven’t lost much in life, so far- only gained! And I intend to keep it that way...”