CONNECTION

✎ㅤ. . .ㅤ𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.

setting: any museum who: open

The museum is quiet, a good place to hide away in a corner. She might as well be an art student working on a piece - rather than someone who's mainly there because it's a free place to fuck around on public wi-fi. She does take some opportunities to look at the art though, visiting different galleries and looking at the works, trying to make sense of them.

starter: open to everyone! location: likely public, feel free to get creative

To say Tima is unimpressed would be a vast understatement. She has always believed that how people treat service workers is a good indicator of who they are, considering it costs nothing to not be a shithead. She crosses her arms over her chest, lingering there in the line behind this infuriating blonde, and can't help but heave a sigh. Her impulse control is lacking at the best of times and having to leave the house in winter generally puts her into a bad mood, so it's not a good recipe.

"I would have to agree," she nods. "And if there is any truth to 'beauty is pain', then we're left with very feeble arguments to champion comfortable heels and breathable corsetry." Had the two crossed paths before? Anaïs can't remember. "That's a great question. Perhaps a very will-powered hand could get the job done. Or so, I'm hoping."

She's tempted to offer her own services, but she knows all too well where any sort of flirtation with the enemy has gotten her in the past - not to mention her disdain for the money clearly dripping off Anaïs's perfectly painted lips. "Well - you look beautiful either way," she finally says, adjusting her costume a little bit as she turns her gaze back to her reflection. She keeps talking, though, as she's wont to do. "You're a doctor, then? Or something like that? Is that why you can afford to be covered in diamonds?"

No, she decidedly doesn't. She'd need to grow a few inches, not to mention look a lot more panicked and— well, be overall whiter. Alan shrugs and leans back against the wall opposite the sink she's claimed.

"Mh - true. You're much more of a spring," she muses, as if she has any idea what the fuck that actually means. It's probably not even true, but she can't resist saying it anyway. She hands the joint back and shrugs, leaning back a little to try and get comfortable. "I guess that's a problem. I have perfume in my purse, but that probably won't help." She looks around, but of course there's no window to crack and let in fresh air. "I don't know if anyone out there would really give a shit. Unless you think the Secret Service are worried about the President getting a contact high." She smiles then, amused at the notion. "Has he ever smoked? He's from Cali, right?"

@timaelmasri setting: halloween @ the brooklyn paramount “My tits are about to drop off.”

Tima had actually more been talking to herself, staring in the mirror, but as the night's gone on she's sore, despite the fun she's having. "Mh - but if I loosen the corset, it just doesn't quite sell it," she says before she finally glances at the woman beside her. Anaïs is nearly ethereal beside her, all sparkles on top of her existing beauty, and Tima would be a fool not to recognize the Murad heiress. "Speaking of corsets, Christ. Is someone going to have to cut you out of that?"

context: halloween at the brooklyn paramount with: open !!

"Do I look like a narc?" She has no particular interest in this white boy, but - hell, free weed is free weed. Perched there on the edge of the sink, she inhales and takes in the newsboy with vague curiosity. "If we can just... tussle you up a little bit, maybe we make them squeamish enough to think we were up to something else." She's playful as she looks at him, dark eyes sharp despite the fact she's definitely been enjoying herself. "A boy, a girl, a locked bathroom... people could put two and two together. Though, no offense - I just wouldn't smudge my lipstick for you."

Location: Halloween at the Brooklyn paramount For: Open <3

WHO: Open! WHERE: Outside, a little ways off the smoking area.

"Are you sure you wanna smoke, with the...?" Tima gestures at the front of the woman's mask before she can stop herself, one brow raised, but she shrugs and she's already reaching in her purse. The voice is familiar, and somehow she knows it's not from anywhere good, but she doesn't linger on the thought too long. Instead, she takes out a cigarette and hands it to Audra without complaint.

He stays sunk into the booth. In reality, yes. He could ask her more in-depth about work and talk business. See what thoughts she has on potential plans, what systems could be created for an idea that's been bothering in the back of his mind.

"You got it," she nods, waving down a staff member with a bit of a coy smile. "We'll try the citrus," she explains. "And whatever he wants to drink." She gestures to Mars, giving him a chance to order something.