#mal8te

“ it'll still hurt like a regular whip. ” or at least she hoped it would. not that she'd know the difference. for show, she purposely slaps the end over the marble counter of the dorm kitchen, the sound practically through the space. lucy is not particularly the best to joke with, her threats always taking a turn for reality and now she's seething, stance set like a predator ready to pounce. “ it's literally ... ” head peers to the left to read the analog clock behind malee, “ four in the morning. official curfew was six hours ago. ” curfew was only a suggestion in every idol's eyes : more so a trap than anything. will you be lazy and sleep, or will you do exactly as the company expects and work yourself to the bone, while still finding a way to prevent dark circles ? she knows if she speaks any louder she would wake the rest of the members and that was another set of chaos she is not willing to sit through. it's less about malee practically breaking into their own dorm, but more about the potential backlash of what she was doing prior. lucy knows her well enough to sense it wasn't taking up space in the dance room, or even sneaking into the cafeteria. hand is outstretched in false playfulness as she gestures her to come closer, “ come here so i can hit you. ”

        wasted is the only way she can get through these events, and she's one of the rare models that can be. she's practically mastered the art of walking and being not-sober-sober. her agent doesn't care as long as she does well in the model olympics, and most of the time, she needs all of the extras to do well. she's dependent on them to deal with sore feet, quick changes, and all of the demands and yelling. it's so loud, all of it, even when no ones talking. she doesn't hate modeling, she could never hate anything, but she knows she's supposed to feel better about it than she does right now. the only reason she can even do this- have time to breathe, think, or eat -is because it's the end of the night. she's always been told that less sleep makes prettier girls, anyway. at least she can smile now, and least she can feel and dance and spin and laugh. everyone's always happy once the show is over. in her spinning and her laughing, she twirls into a table, which makes her laugh even more. among all of the empty glasses on the table, she spots a juice box. unlike the others in the mess of things, not empty. within moments, it's in her hands and she's trying it, without much thinking. it just tastes like ... grape, which makes her laugh again. her giggles seem to have caught the attention of a face across the room. pretty and sharp, if she was a model, allie didn't recognize her. besides, she was too ... vivid to be a model. she looked too brave. allie crosses the room to meet her, a bright, beaming smile on pink petals. " are you having fun? "