Second floor common room, Thursday after classes

[sneerkite]

Marilyn Steerpike was attempting to do her his make-up in her his reflection in a soup pot. She would never be a real star if she wasn't beautiful, after all. She really probably shouldn't have eaten that cupcake at lunch. It would go straight to her his hips.

It's probably best not to ask where she got the make up. Or the white dress. Or the wig.

Seriously. Don't ask.

[ooc: open, though may have patches of rather slow play due to me being at work for another 4 1/2 hours. I apologize for the icon. At 1 am, I thought it was the height of visual wit and humor. . . .]

Comments

[morpherboy.livejournal.com]

"Drugs are on you?"

[sneerkite]

Marilyn Steerpike checked her his dress. "No, I'm still clean. But if you know where I might get some. . . ."

[morpherboy.livejournal.com]

Marco blinked. "Hell the you are who?"

[sneerkite]

"I'm Stella Pike, darling! Future star of magazine and screen!"

[morpherboy.livejournal.com]

Marco gave Steerpike a once over. "Guy you're do you realize a?"

[sneerkite]

"You really have to work on your speech patterns, honey. I can't understand a word you're saying."

[morpherboy.livejournal.com]

"Of makes me us trust that two." Marco said with a frown.

[sneerkite]

Nope, no good, no idea what that was supposed to mean. Marilyn Steerpike shrugged and giggled girlishly.